I just did a post on my Holmes blog about Rex Stout that mentioned what was clearly his magnum opus, "Watson was a Woman," which claims that Watson was a woman, Irene Adler in particular, who was married to Holmes- and that the two of them produced Lord Peter Wimsey.
Stout's allegation about Wimsey being born of Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler/Norton/Watson (!?!?) is obviously garbage, as contrary to the scrupulously researched and deathly serious rest of the article /s, this statement is based on Stout vaguely assigning Wimsey a birthdate around the turn of the century, when The Second Stain was published- presumably because that connotes a clear point when Holmes and Watson were no longer actively solving cases, and presumably their removal to the Sussex Downs to raise bees was also intended to provide a place for them to raise their son away from the hustle and bustle of the city. Or something.
The problem here, of course, is that Wimsey was, per his author, born in 1890, when both Holmes and Watson were in the public eye solving cases. And, like, we know who Wimsey's parents are. So that's a wash.
There is another possibility. Wimsey's birthdate of 1890 is mentioned a number of times, one of which is in DLS's radio story written for the Holmes birthday centennial. In this story, she helpfully situates that Wimsey's birth came just before Holmes's apparent death, and that Wimsey's father was a "minor member of Cabinet" during the period of The Naval Treaty, and thus was involved in the affair at the time. It is implied that he may have met Holmes at this juncture.
The Naval Treaty is dated, in-story, as the July after Watson's marriage. Watson becomes engaged to Mary Morstan in 1888, and has married her by June 1889, per Twisted Lip. Ergo, Naval Treaty takes place in July 1889.
Apropos of nothing... let's consider Sherlock Holmes's hands. We're told over the course of the stories that he has "long, white, nervous fingers" and a "delicacy of touch," which he obscures by the fact that he always has punctures and chemical stains all over them. We'll of course get back to this.
So it's July 1889. Mortimer Wimsey, Duke of Denver (or Viscount St George, unclear), is a minor cabinet minister, a position he has most certainly fallen upward into. He is in a marriage of more or less friendly detente with his wife Honoria, much cleverer than he is, on whom he is constantly cheating. She's already given birth to the heir, a clear chip off the old block. One day, Mortimer comes home and tells Honoria of the calamity of the disappearance of the treaty. A month or so later, he excitedly comes home to share that the great Sherlock Holmes has found the treaty, solved the case, and saved the empire. Honoria is, of course, pleased to hear this, and even more impressed by this Mr Holmes than she already had been from other tales of his exploits which had made their way to high places.
We know that Holmes did not shy away from connections with nobility and royalty, and that for all his protestations that he did not discriminate by class in his detective practice (clearly true), in his private life he did not object to being feted by the upper classes. It was probably not that difficult for Honoria to invite him for dinner, or get herself invited to a party celebrating Holmes's accomplishment. Or perhaps it was Mortimer, respecting intelligence greater than his own, who invited Holmes. It could have happened pretty much anytime over the next few months- and, somehow, and without my attempting to explain exactly HOW, because the mind recoils, Honoria's second child resulted without her husband's involvement.
We know that Mortimer had no idea, as he seemed uncomplicatedly joyful when, as DLS noted, he came home to Honoria to tell her the news of Holmes's return. We wonder if Holmes knew- Wimsey's narration makes clear that he's not sure why Holmes let him into the 221b rooms, but what else would he do for his secret son? And, of course, the Wimsey hands, the only positive trace of Wimseyness that wasn't quite overcome by Delagarditude, were in fact Holmes hands, delicate and sensitive. (But Gherkins had the same ha- shut up.)
And no, in case you're wondering, I have absolutely no shame. After all, as DLS herself said, the Game "must be played as solemnly as a county cricket match at Lord's; the slightest touch of extravagance or burlesque ruins the atmosphere." And two can play that Game.
