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Transcript excerpt from Affaires de Coeur, Season 2 Episode 7. Aired 10/04/2026. Presenters: Ty Wilson and Greer Smith.
T: Use code ADC20 for twenty percent off your first order. Thank you, Don’t Buy Her Flowers.
G: Now, our listener submission this week comes from Marie—
T: Hi, Marie!
G: And I might be right in thinking, it’s the oldest story we’ve had so far.
T: How old are we talking? Forties? Thirties?
G: Try 1880s.
T: Ooh, okay! So, Victorian?
G: Victorian! I think you’re going to love this. It all starts in the agony columns of the London Telegraph.
T: Oh my god, it’s a Nora Ephron movie.
G: For those of you that don’t know, when I say ‘agony columns’ I don’t mean like an agony aunt. This was more like the classifieds we have today. A mixture of adverts, missed connections, requests, lost property or pets and stuff. Sometimes it was even coded messages.
T: Disclaimer, we can’t be sure that people don’t still use it for that. Careful what you say in the papers, kids.
G: [laughing] Okay, picture the scene. It’s January, 1881. The new year is underway, the streets of London are cold and grey, and someone going by J.H.W. is looking for a place to stay.
T: Did you mean to rhyme all that?
G: No, but I’m going with it. J.H.W. places the following ad in the Telegraph: ‘Room wanted. Not averse to lodging with another. Quiet environment preferred. Reply J.H.W. care of Strand Hotel.’
T: Very polite.
G: Very polite! Lo and behold, J.H.W. gets an answer the very next day, but not care of the Strand Hotel. Someone else going by their initials, S.H., replies right in the agony columns. “J.H.W. Also seeking rooms and not averse to flatmate. Could split rent between us. Do you mind violin playing? S.H.”
T: That’s eager.
G: Considering they’d never met, yeah! But it gets better; they start conversing through the agony columns. Marie really did her—hang on, yeah—her research. She’s sent us copies of all the ads they placed to talk to each other. This went on for about two weeks. You take those [papers rustling] and we can do a bit of a dramatic reading.
T: So the next one’s from S.H. again?
G: I suppose the first one didn’t get a reply.
T: “J.H.W. Have eye on suite of rooms in Baker Street. Would suit two gentlemen. Do you mind smell of strong tobacco? S.H.” Still coming on strong, I see.
G: Know what’s weird about that message? J.H.W. never said they were a man.
T: Ooh, you’re right. I imagine they were, though—it’s not likely to be a lady putting an advert in the paper to say she’s seeking a room.
G: True, but we’ll get to that. Next one’s from them, “S.H. Always smoke ship’s myself. J.H.W.” Short and sweet.
T: “Generally have chemicals about. Sometimes do experiments. Would that annoy you?”
G: “By no means.”
T: “Get in dumps at times. Don’t talk for days on end. What have you to confess? Would ask again re: violin.” They’re very persistent, aren’t they?
G: They really are! “Keep a bull pup. Object to rows, nerves shaken, very lazy. Well-played violin treat for the gods.”
T: The gauntlet's been thrown down. “That’s alright—” And picked up, apparently! [laughing] Sorry. “That’s alright then. If rooms agreeable consider it settled. Call for me at St. Bart’s noon tomorrow.”
G: That’s the last one.
T: But what happened? Did they move in together?
G: Marie only sent us the copies of the ads—thank you again, Marie—so I did a bit of digging myself, because honestly this whole thing is really cute? Obviously there isn’t that much to go on, but we’ve found more with less. I started with the census, and it just so happens that 1881 was a census year, they did it on 3rd April. Read that for our lovely listeners, would you? [paper rustling]
T: 221b Baker Street, Marylebone, City of Westminster, London. Martha Elizabeth Hudson, landlady, widowed, born in Stirling. Sherlock Holmes, detective, bachelor, born in Ripon. John Watson, doctor, bachelor, born in Edinburgh. That’s them?
G: Looks like it! But this is where it gets really interesting. The census is taken every ten years, and in 1891, they were both listed as still living at that address.
T: They stayed together all that time?
G: But then, a month later, there were newspaper reports that Sherlock Holmes had died.
T: What?
G: Yeah! There were loads of articles about it, and that's a photo from the memorial service.
T: All these materials will be available on the website alongside the episode transcript, by the way. Oh, look—
G: I'm pretty sure that's our Dr Watson.
T: He looks so sad! Not one of our happy endings, then? [pause] You aren't done.
G: 1901 census. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are back living at Baker Street.
T: Wait-wait-wait, hang on. He didn't die?
G: He didn't die!
T: You're telling this backwards. Spit it out! People are on the edge of their seats!
G: People being you?
T: Yes, but also we have listeners! We hope!
G: [laughing] Okay, okay! Let me ask you something. Have you heard the name Sherlock Holmes before? Because I thought it sounded familiar when I first read through all this—
T: Can’t have been many people in the world called Sherlock.
G: —and when I was doing follow-up to what the lovely Marie sent us, I wondered why there were so many articles about Mr Holmes’s death. Or, apparent death. Like, was he famous? And that led me to this magazine called The Strand. It was published monthly from 1891 to 1950; short stories, articles, essays, weird old adverts for Cadbury’s cocoa, that kind of thing. It’s hard to find an original issue now because obviously it’s out of circulation. People do sell them online for ridiculous prices, but some of them cut the magazines up so you can only buy one section of it. I suppose if you’re only interested in one thing? Anyway, there’s an online archive with digital versions being added. What do you think I found there?
T: I swear to God if you leave this on a cliffhanger—
G: Sherlock Holmes was famous! Kind of. He was like, the blueprint for “gentleman private detective”, and Dr Watson wrote stories about his cases and published them in The Strand. I suppose you’d call them biographies? Some of them feel a bit sensationalised. Biographical fiction, maybe.
T: Hang on a minute. Didn’t you say Mr Holmes, er, “died” in 1891? And The Strand was first published that year?
G: Well the magazine started in January 1891, and Mr Holmes’s death was reported in May.
T: So all the stories Dr Watson wrote—
G: Posthumous, yeah. At least as far as he knew. There are twenty-three of them, from 1891 to 1893, ending with “The Final Problem”.
T: No, that’s awful! Why are you telling me this?
G: You made me!
T: But I didn’t—oh, I can’t, I’m going to cry. He wrote all those stories about his friend after his death?
G: And a couple of novels before, but mostly, yeah. Keeping him alive with his words.
T: Keeping him alive with his words! [muffled sounds of blowing their nose] Gah. Okay. I’m good.
G: You’re good? [Patting them on the back] I suppose you’re wondering, then, what the heck happened to make Sherlock Holmes fake his death? Fortunately, The Strand magazine provides the answer once again. Much later, in October 1903, we have “The Adventure of the Empty House”. Yes, Dr Watson made people wait ten years to reveal that Holmes was really alive.
T: [sniff] Bastard.
G: There’ll be a copy of that on the website, too, and I’m sure it’s on the Internet Archive or something. Long story short, Mr Holmes faked his death and travelled the world for three years to take down the last remnants of a criminal network he’d been working against in the months leading up to his quote-unquote death. He explained all this to Dr Watson and they ended up moving back in together, as our friendly neighbourhood 1901 census shows.
T: Dr Watson is way more forgiving than I would be. Any stories after that?
G: Oh, yeah, loads! I think the last one was published in 1920-something, [papers rustling], 1927, there you go. The timeline is a bit jumbled, but the last one chronologically takes place right before the start of World War 1. Mr Holmes and Dr Watson capture a German spy and drink all his wine.
T: How romantic!
G: Ideal date night. [papers rustling] And after that, we don’t really know what happened to them. Mr Holmes apparently retired to a cottage in Sussex to keep bees. Whether Dr Watson went with him, well. Marie didn’t mention it, and I couldn’t find anything.
T: No helpful census this time?
G: Unfortunately not. Maybe there’s a secret diary hidden in a trunk somewhere, who knows.
T: I am choosing to believe that they lived happily ever after and both lived to be a hundred. Can’t believe I’ve never heard of these two before! Thank you, Marie, for your submission, amazing stuff.
G: Yes, thank you, Marie! Current record-holder for Oldest Listener Submission. If anyone out there thinks they’ve got that beat, you can submit your story through our website, and read any past submissions there too; adcpodcast.co.uk. That’s alpha-delta-charlie-podcast, all one word, dot co dot uk.
T: I think I’m a bit in love with these two now. I need to read the stories. But! We’re nearing the end of this week’s episode, and we’ve got just enough time for a few shoutouts to our lovely, lovely patrons.
End of transcript excerpt.