Chemistry for Everyone

The Chemical Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: Autopsy in Blue

Thomas G. Waddell* and Thomas R. Rybolt
Department of Chemistry, University of Tennessee at Chattanooga, Chattanooga, TN 37403; *Thomas-Waddell@utc.edu

The following story is a chemical mystery with an emphasis on qualitative inorganic analysis, forensic chemistry, and medicinal
substances. This is the 15th article in a series presenting a scientific problem in mystery format in the context of the popular
and beloved characters Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson (1, 2). There is a break in the story where readers (students and
teachers) can ponder and solve the mystery. Sherlock Holmes provides his solution in the paragraphs following this break.

They have elected him mayor five times in a row. Indeed,

The Story Holmes, he was a sympathetic figure. His wife has been an
alcoholic for many years and I know that she will be lost
“I have ordered an autopsy, Holmes.” without his
“Capital idea, Watson,” said Holmes as he set down
the book he was reading about the life of Frederick the
Great. “I will be most interested in what is discovered.”
As these words were exchanged, London was near
the end of an unusually heavy snowfall. Baker Street was
packed with deep drifts. Shops, businesses, schools, and
universities were all closed and the silence of the city was
so striking as to seem like a constant sound in itself. It was
late afternoon and Holmes and I sat in our chairs before a
lively fire that cast long, angular shadows around the
room. Billows of smoke from our pipes clung to the
ceiling. There was an aroma of brandy and cherry wood.
The atmosphere should have been warm and relaxed, but
my own mood was cold and tense.
An hour earlier I had arrived at our rooms at 221B
Baker Street from my rounds at Bart’s, visiting my
hospital patients, one in particular. Holmes had
immediately noted my sad- ness and drew out the cause.
An old friend of mine from the Afghan campaign, Mr.
Reuben Hochum, had died unexpect- edly. He had been
admitted to Bart’s the week before with a crushed ankle,
the result of an unfortunate home improve- ment project
his wife had encouraged him to undertake. The injury as I
saw it was not life threatening. Therefore, his sud- den
death both grieved and shocked me. Reuben was the be-
loved mayor of the small village of Putting Bridge. He
was a loyal public servant who had expected soon to be
elected to his sixth term in office. During the last days of
his hospital- ization, he had complained of symptoms
unrelated to his in- jury or to a secondary bacterial
infection that might occur. He complained of nausea and
dizziness, along with periods of headache and severe
agitation. He told me that he felt like every pore of his
body was suffocating. His arms felt heavy. I was
determined to learn the exact reason for my comrade’s
untimely death.
“The autopsy will be done this afternoon,” I replied,
“and I am sure that we will be informed at once.”
“Let me put forth the usual query,” said Holmes.
“Did the deceased have any enemies or anyone who
would profit from his death?”
“Just the contrary,” I countered, “Reuben had no en-
emies. The people of Putting Bridge Village loved him.

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Chemistry for Everyone

guidance. They have a son, a student at London

University who doted on his father and visited him
religiously at Bart’s. What will become of him without
Reuben’s support?”
“Just the same, good fellow,” Holmes said, “we
must maintain an open mind. If this death was not a
natural one, then the waters run dark around the body of
your friend. May I suggest a carriage ride in the snow,
Watson? How about a surprise visit to the widow
Hochum?”
The late afternoon sun dimly illuminated the cold,
par- tially cleared, snow-packed streets of London. We
flagged a hansom cab, wrapped ourselves snugly in our
topcoats, and settled in for the ride to King’s College
Station where we would board the train for the village of
Putting Bridge. An hour later we were on the step of the
modest home of the widow Mrs. Hochum. The door
opened to my knock and Mrs. Hochum herself stood
before us, with red-rimmed eyes and a countenance sunk
so deep in grief that I can surely say, I had never seen a
sadder person.
“Dr. Watson!” she cried, “Dr. Watson.” And that
was all she said. I led her into the sitting room and tried
to com- fort her as best I could. Holmes paced about the
room, ex- amining novels arranged neatly on a
bookshelf, picking up and putting down a clay figure of
a Great Dane. He sniffed the contents of an empty glass
on the side table.
“Now, Mrs. Hochum,” he uttered suddenly, “Dr.
Watson tells me that your son is a student at London
University.”
“This gentleman is my friend and colleague
Sherlock Holmes,” I told her gently. “You may speak
freely to him. We are here to help you.”
“He is, Mr. Holmes,” she then replied.
“Excellent. And may I ask what he is studying at
this fine institution?” Fine, indeed. Holmes well knew
that I had taken my medical degree there in 1878.
“Poetry, Mr. Holmes, poetry and chemistry,” she
replied. “An odd combination, I know, but Reuben was
irritated with Robert’s—that’s my son—poetry interest.
No jobs in poetry, his father said. Must study something
practical and useful, he said. Naturally I agreed. I have
told Robert that I will honor his father’s wishes in my
support of his schooling. Rob- ert seems to have a
natural gift for science and he is doing quite well in all
his chemistry classes. His classmates seem to love the
subject, but Robert loathes the time he spends on
chemistry. I believe he detests anything that steals time
from his precious poetry. He thinks of himself as a poet,
Mr.

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 Chemistry for Everyone

Holmes, very dedicated to it, but I told him he’d get over “He was here to visit Mr. Hochum in room 102, sir. We,
that nonsense. He insisted that he go to a poetry class this of course, had to tell him of Mr. Hochum’s death earlier
evening at the University or he would be here now and today.”
you could meet him.” She twisted a handkerchief and “Thank you, miss,” Holmes replied.
dabbed at her swollen eyes.
“Now, Mrs. Hochum,” Holmes continued, “we need
to know of Mr. Hochum’s close associates. Who were his
friends? Who had intimate interests in his life?”
There was a pause. “Only two come to mind,” she re-
plied. “Rodney Mieville and Mr. Lanquist Strong. Mr.
Strong is the executive officer of Notting Hill Associates,
a firm spe- cializing in telegraph applications, I believe. I
think of him because he was running against Reuben in
next week’s may- oral election. He’ll get it now, now that
—”
“What about this Rodney Mieville?” Holmes
interjected. “Rodney Mieville has been my husband’s
attorney for many years now. He and Reuben played at
cribbage every Sunday afternoon. They played for money,
Mr. Holmes, and my husband had run up a debt to Mr.
Mieville. I objected to the gambling, of course. But, then, I
have my own prob- lems. Perhaps Dr. Watson has told
you.” She glanced over at
the empty glass on the table.
“Watson,” Holmes said, clapping his hands, “can you
get us into Bart’s this evening? I should very much like a
look around.”
“I believe so. They know me there, and they know
that I was a friend of Reuben Hochum. I imagine the
autopsy has been completed by now.”
Mrs. Hochum gasped and put her hands over her
mouth. “Perhaps we should take our leave, Mrs.
Hochum,” I
said.
“Be assured that we will sort through this in due
time,” said Holmes. “Meanwhile, if you think of anything
or any- one else we should know about, here is my card
for immedi- ate communication.”
On the train back to London, Holmes gazed out the
window. He was deep in thought and I hesitated to inter-
rupt him.
“Holmes,” I said, “whom do you suspect?”
“Everyone, Watson,” he replied without turning from
the window. “No one.”
Owing to the snow, it took us more than an hour to
reach Bart’s and by the time we entered its massive
structure, the London night was dark and cold. The dimly
lit corridors of the hospital added no cheer to my somber
mood. As I led Holmes toward the room where Reuben
Hochum died, a large man wearing a dark coat and fedora
and displaying an expression of alarm rushed around the
corner.
“Whoa there! I’m sorry,” he exclaimed as he collided
with Holmes. He paused and then hurried down the
corridor and was gone.
“Who was that, Watson?” Holmes asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied. “I have never seen him
before.” “Nurse,” said Holmes. “What was that man doing
here?”
Holmes had detained a small woman, clearly of the
hospital staff.
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Chemistry for Everyone

When we arrived at room 102, there was no one in cleared things up a bit, I will inform the Inspector and the
sight and we had the room to ourselves. Reuben’s hospital authorities. Tomorrow morn- ing is early enough
personal belong- ings were still there cluttered about as for them all.”
if the man himself had just stepped out for a moment. The late night, the heavy snow, and the chilling cold
The true oddness of his sud- den death struck me. A had taken their toll on me. I was exhausted. But Holmes
novel lay on a chair by the bed along with a pack of was on the scent and the lateness of the hour and the
playing cards and a pegboard. Eyeglasses were poised laboratory work ahead made no difference to him. By the
on the pillow. time we
“Look here, Watson. What are these medicinal
sub- stances used for?”
On a sidewall shelf I could see a row of six bottles
that had attracted Holmes’s attention.
“Cocaine is used for pain such as a toothache.
Chloro- form is, of course, an anesthetic. Sodium
nitroprusside is used to treat high blood pressure.
Camphor is for headache. And the last two are digitalis
and strychnine. Digitalis, from the dried leaves of the
foxglove plant, is a cardiac stimulant and diuretic.
Strychnine can be used to stimulate the gastrointes-
tinal tract. Strychnine is also a legendary aphrodisiac,
Holmes (3). Did you know that? Anyway, I see nothing
unusual here. These are standard drugs of our modern
era.”
“Indeed, Watson, indeed. Now, let me look around
and, if you don’t mind, run off and find out the autopsy
results. And, Watson, while you are at it, also obtain a
generous quan- tity of the deceased’s stomach
contents.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” I hesitantly replied.
In fact, the autopsy report was ready and I
obtained it immediately from the basement office. My
request for a jar of the stomach contents caused a
bureaucratic stir, but, even- tually, owing to my
associations, I was granted a pint of the foul material.
When I returned to room 102, Holmes was deep in
thought, staring, it seemed to me, at the shelf of
medicinals on the wall.
“Here is the autopsy report, Holmes,” I said,
handing it to him.
“Yes, let me see.” He snatched the file from my
hand and had begun flipping through the few pages.
He stopped suddenly.
“Blue, Watson!” he cried with excitement. “Blue.
The interior lining of the stomach tissue is blue! What
do you make of that?”
I puzzled for a moment. “It is most unusual. I
would think that such an observation might indicate an
unnatural death caused by a foreign substance.”
“Well done, Watson. You are learning my
methods after all these years. And this report suggests
the very same thing.” “It is truly nothing,” I
suggested modestly, although I knew that it was
possible that Holmes was conveying some small
sarcasm in his praise. “We must inform Scotland Yard
immediately if there has been a deliberate murder.
Lestrade
will want to look into this.”
“Oh, he will indeed,” Holmes agreed. “However, I
sug- gest that we return to 221B and perform some
chemical ex- periments. As it stands, this crime is
beyond Lestrade’s limited powers. Once we have

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 Chemistry for Everyone

reached Baker Street he was energized like a tightly

you know why Reuben was murdered? Who would want
coiled spring. When the hansom cab stopped in front of
to kill him?”
our flat, he leaped out.
“Too many questions, my good fellow,” Holmes
“Stay with me now if you can, Watson. I think that
replied with a determined smile. “A good night’s sleep is
you will find these experiments most enlightening.” He
in order now. Tomorrow will give us ample time to
hurried inside.
complete our end of this most intriguing investigation.”
As I built a fire to warm the flat, Holmes prepared his
Holmes undoubtedly slept well, but I did not. Formu-
laboratory corner. I could hear him setting up glass equip-
las and equations from the chemical education of my
ment, testing burners, and arranging solutions. The cold
youth floated in my mind’s eye as I attempted to make
Lon- don weather must have been affecting my friend also
sense of the experiments that Holmes had performed. The
since I thought I heard, over the crackle of the fire, a
identity of the toxin had provided Holmes with a powerful
sharp, gagging cough coming from that distant corner.
impetus. What did he know that was beyond my
“Holmes, are you all right?” I inquired.
reckoning? But sleep did come to me eventually and I
“I am doing some steam distillations, good fellow.
awoke in my bed to the bright sun shining through my
They are routine, I assure you, and you may remain cozy
window and to Holmes standing over me offering a
and warm for a few more minutes.”
About a half an hour later he called me to his labora- steaming cup of tea.
“I have sent Billy off on several inquiries, Watson.
tory bench.
“Now, Watson, listen and watch carefully. If my He will be returning soon and you will not want to miss
his re- port.”
suspi- cions are correct, we will soon identify a foreign
Indeed, soon after I had dressed and consumed the
substance and, at the same time, a prime murder suspect.
aro- matic tea, the neighborhood lad Billy, whom Holmes
Solution A, right here, is a steam distillate of the victim’s
had used as a messenger on many previous occasions,
stomach con- tents. Solution B, next to it, is a distillate of
arrived at our door, stomping snow off his boots in the
my own stom- ach contents. As a control, you see. We
hallway and calling out. “Here I am, Mr. Holmes. I have
must do good science here.”
“Your own, Holmes!” I cried, “but how…?” Then I found out what you wanted to know!” Billy served
Holmes with loyalty and great enthusiasm.
re- membered the retching I had heard earlier.
“Come in, Billy!” Holmes clapped him on the back.
“Now, I am going to do two chemical tests on each
“Waste no time, lad. What have you learned?”
so- lution, A and B. By the way, do you detect a familiar
“Well, I took your note to the telegraph station. I tele-
aroma from solution A? It may be faint. No? Well, no
graphed Mrs. Hochum in your name, Mr. Holmes, and I
matter. I smell it. Let us then continue. Here I have a filter
waited for the reply. She said the man you saw in the
paper circle which, it so happens, I have freshly
hospi- tal hall as you described him is almost certainly
impregnated with cop- per sulfide. The paper is brown, is
Mr. Lanquist Strong–the mayoral candidate.”
it not? Now, I add potas- sium hydroxide solution to each
“Capital! What else?”
distillate A and B to make them basic. A few drops of B
“So then,” Billy continued, “I showed the list you
on the brown circle, like so, and what do you see,
gave me to about a dozen blokes in the neighborhood,
Watson?”
store-own- ers I know and the like. I told them I was
“Nothing at all, Holmes,” I replied.
“Just so, my friend. That is what we would expect doing a school writing project and I asked them which of
from the control, my own stomach contents. However, let the six items they would use in a murder mystery. Every
us see if my suspicions are correct.” one of them said strych- nine, Mr. Holmes.”
“Indeed, Billy!” Holmes smiled broadly.
Holmes placed a drop of the basified solution A on
“Finally, I did find the hospital security man as you
the brown filter paper. To my astonishment, the brown
in- structed, and he said that a container of sodium
color dis- appeared where the drop was placed and the
nitroprus- side was reported missing from the nurses’
white of the original paper was revealed.
station near room 102.”
“As I thought,” Holmes muttered to himself. Then he
“Well done, lad,” cried Holmes, shaking the boy’s
turned to me. “One more test, now, for confirmation. This
hand vigorously. I saw Holmes pass some coins to Billy
experiment, I think, will be especially interesting.”
in a clan- destine manner. Billy scampered down the stairs
I watched carefully as Holmes removed an aliquot of
the potassium hydroxide-treated distillate A, the stomach to Baker Street and Holmes turned to me.
con- tents of Reuben Hochum. He then added two drops “Time to contact Lestrade, Watson. Time to clear this
of fer- rous sulfate solution and one drop of a yellowish matter up once and for all.”
ferric chloride solution. He covered the test tube and
shook it vig- orously. He then warmed the contents of the
test tube over a low flame and added a quantity of
concentrated hydrochlo- ric acid. Instantly, a precipitate STOP
formed, a blue precipitate!
“It is settled, Watson. The foreign substance in the
victim’s stomach is identified.” Can You Solve the Mystery?
“What is it?” I asked eagerly. “What is the poison?
Do
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Chemistry for Everyone

You can solve this mystery by understanding the chemistry carried out by Sherlock
Holmes and from a careful consideration of the clues provided.

1. What did Holmes learn from the chemical tests and his observations?

2. What medicinal chemical was used to kill Reuben Hochum?

3. Who killed Reuben Hochum?

Sherlock Holmes reveals his solution in the paragraphs that follow.

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