Chapter 8: The Drug Experiment

So Billy had reached a point where he no longer cared much; he felt he was not the type to possess advanced knowledge yet refuse to share it, watching cases remain unsolved. Nor did he want to see simple cases complicated due to trivial tool issues, causing Holmes to waste more time solving them. Thus, he feared that sooner or later, he would reveal many things—especially considering his peculiar golden finger ability.

Thinking of that bizarre fishing skill, Billy felt more at ease; there were already stranger things happening, so the odd knowledge he inexplicably possessed now seemed less peculiar. After all, everything is relative, he thought.

Holmes did not return directly to Baker Street with the wooden floorboard but led Billy first to the University of London, then to the hospital where Gaskell had interned, inquiring about Gaskell’s condition before his disappearance and his social relationships. From these, they hoped to deduce who might have harmed Gaskell.

However, from their conversations, Billy only learned that Gaskell was an outgoing, enthusiastic person, average in medical skills but by no means dull. He enjoyed various social activities and was always kind to others; neither the college nor hospital staff had heard of him having any enemies.

Regarding Gaskell’s secret girlfriend, his friends knew a little but believed they had broken up months earlier due to parental disapproval. None of them knew her name or identity. Apparently, Gaskell was good at keeping secrets.

So what had caused Gaskell’s disappearance? The only clue now was the floorboard Holmes had brought back.

Upon returning to Baker Street, Holmes placed the wooden floorboard on the chemical lab bench in a corner of the living room and began scraping powder from the dark stains to conduct experiments, effectively sidelining Billy.

Feeling somewhat useless, Billy wanted to watch Holmes’s process but feared disturbing him, so he turned instead to the bookshelf. Holmes’s shelves held all kinds of books—not just forensic science related to detective work but many encyclopedic volumes.

Now that he was to be a detective’s assistant, Billy immediately picked up a forensic science book and began reading.

But the more he read, the stranger it felt—as if his mind spontaneously generated knowledge beyond these books, comprehensive and detailed, reminiscent of his past life’s expertise. Why did he remember forensic knowledge so well? Could it be that in his previous life, he had been a forensic pathologist?

If so, working as a detective’s assistant now would hardly be a waste of his past knowledge, Billy mused with a bitter smile.

On the other hand, applying advanced knowledge to solve cases could quickly make him famous, especially as Holmes’s aide, though that might raise suspicions. But he was already under suspicion.

Just as Billy pondered his next move, he heard Holmes’s voice.

“That’s not blood.”

Billy immediately put the book down and hurried over to Holmes, who held a transparent test tube containing a clear liquid.

“If it were blood, the liquid would turn dark red, and brown powdery sediment would settle at the bottom. But it doesn’t,” Holmes explained, turning to Billy and casually placing the test tube on the rack. “Billy, what do you think is on the floorboard?”

Considering the floorboards’ locations, Billy stuck to his earlier guess: it was likely something from the victim, Gaskell.

“Probably vomit. Most poisoning cases induce vomiting as a protective reflex—whether intentional poisoning or food poisoning,” Billy responded quickly.

Holmes smiled. “You always surprise me, Billy. You’re right; it very well could be vomit. The poison concentration in vomit can be higher than in the body because many toxins break down after entering the system and can’t be directly detected. So, what poison do you think it might be?”

Billy was stumped. He had no idea which poisons were popular in the Victorian era. In his previous life, poisons like rat poison or parathion were common, usually in suicides or accidental ingestions.

But now, recalling knowledge acquired over the past 18 years, he thought arsenic poisoning was common at the time, though pharmacy laws required registration to purchase toxic substances, making arsenic poisoning more difficult. Yet arsenic was not rare—it was even used as a dye, appearing in various pigments.

Billy vaguely remembered rumors of chronic arsenic poisoning from wallpapers containing arsenic, though he wasn’t sure of the truth. At least, arsenic was a known poison of the era.

Also, morphine and cocaine seemed less strictly controlled then. Holmes himself injected morphine in the original story Billy had read—though he wasn’t certain if this Holmes was the same character.

Billy’s gaze fell on Holmes’s arm, but even after Holmes removed his jacket, his shirt sleeves concealed his arms, leaving no visible needle marks.

“What are you looking for?” Holmes’s question brought Billy back to reality, and he quickly withdrew his somewhat impolite stare.

“I don’t know much about poisons. Maybe arsenic?” Billy answered.

“You don’t seem very familiar with them. But I don’t think it’s a chemical poison; I suspect a plant toxin,” Holmes said, picking up the stained floorboard again, his eyes shining brightly. “Plant poisons are trickier to detect, but I’ve recently developed a chromatography method that might help. Billy, go to Deptford and buy some piglets.”

Holmes handed Billy a pound coin without looking at him and resumed scraping the stain for his experiment.

At first, Billy was puzzled. Once seated in the horse-drawn cab, he recalled: pigs were commonly used for poison testing because of their physiological similarities to humans.

Holmes intended to extract the substance from the floorboard and inject it into the pigs to observe their reactions and identify the poison.

Deptford was chosen for its famous livestock market. Eventually, Billy purchased two piglets and brought them back.

Thankfully, there were cages; otherwise, he couldn’t imagine carrying two filthy piglets, especially wearing the new clothes Holmes had bought him.

Still, the piglets left a pungent odor on him. Billy went to a shop, bought new clothes for himself, placed the piglets in the living room, then immediately took a bath—washing his clothes at the same time.

Afterward, he remembered that the maid could have done it but shrugged. He wasn’t a paying tenant here; washing himself was fine.

“Why did you buy two?” Holmes asked, syringe in hand, eyeing the piglets.

“We can’t yet determine the poison or its lethal dose. We’ll inject the first pig with a certain amount and observe. Then, based on its reaction, adjust the dose. If the first injection reveals the poison, we can have Mrs. Hudson roast the second one as a suckling pig,” Billy explained.

Holmes smiled. “Sounds like you want roast suckling pig. But it’s a good plan.”

Just then, the maid brought lunch. Billy’s stomach rumbled loudly. He said to Holmes, “Mr. Holmes, shall we eat before continuing the experiment?”

“No, hunger sharpens my mind and focus. Billy, you should eat—you’re still growing,” Holmes said, opening the cage to take out a piglet and immediately injecting it, causing the piglet to squeal in pain.

Billy watched the piglet struggle wildly in Holmes’s hands, then, driven by a raging appetite, he devoured half the food on the table in a whirlwind.

Mrs. Hudson had prepared delicious fried fish from the fish Holmes had caught last night. Billy didn’t know how fish tasted in Greenwich, but this was the best fish he’d eaten in eighteen years.

After finishing quickly and returning to Holmes, the injected piglet was still lively. If not for Holmes tying it with a rope, it would have made an even bigger mess of the already chaotic room.

“Mr. Holmes, how long has it been?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Holmes replied, glancing at his pocket watch.

“Should we expect results within half an hour?”

“Except for poisons that kill instantly, symptoms usually appear within half an hour,” Holmes answered.

Before the half-hour mark, twenty minutes in, the piglet began showing unusual symptoms—staggering while walking, seeming dazed, and starting to vomit.

Holmes, unfazed by the piglet’s mess and vomit, produced a stethoscope from somewhere and listened closely to its heartbeat.