Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson were unquestionably men of outstanding athletic ability. Holmes was a single-stick player, a boxer, and a swordsman (A Study in Scarlet). Watson had played rugby in college, and probably had engaged in other collegiate sports. They were strong men, quick of action and fleet of foot.

Quickness of action surely was needed to save Sir Henry Baskerville from the hound. It will be recalled that the fog from the Grimpen Mire that autumn night had spread over the path which Sir Henry was to follow from Stapleton’s house to Baskerville Hall. As a consequence, the visibility was so low that Sherlock Holmes and his companions could not see the hound until it was dangerously close to its intended victim. Watson describes the episode dramatically: “Never have I seen a man run as Holmes ran that night. I am reckoned fleet of foot, but he outpaced me as much as I outpaced the little professional” (The Hound of the Baskervilles). At any rate, we know that these determined men, led by Holmes, reached Sir Henry just in time and killed the hound before it could harm him.

Watson’s statement, “Never have I seen a man run as Holmes ran that night,” bespeaks high praise of Holmes as an exceptionally fast man. Watson, when a college student, had doubtless seen first-class trackmen perform, but nevertheless he distinctly implies that Holmes as a runner was in a class by himself. Holmes was making an effort to save a man’s life, but so were Watson and Lestrade, the Scotland Yard detective. Holmes, it is true, had the build of a trackman, since he was tall and lithe, whereas Watson had a decidedly burly physique, and Lestrade is described as rather short in stature. Watson, despite his stocky build, admits that he himself was a sprinter of parts, but he was obviously no match for Holmes.

Not only was Holmes a fast runner, but a skilled boxer as well. Watson writes: “He was undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight I have seen ...” (The Yellow Face). A real compliment, for Watson was a keen sportsman who probably had had occasion to attend many boxing matches. Holmes was six feet tall—at least he so described himself (The Adventure of the Three Students). The suggestion has been made that he weighed about 11 stone (154 pounds) and had a physique resembling that of Bob Fitzsimmons,[5] that is, he was rangy. A boxer with a long reach has, of course, a decided advantage. Holmes, too, was fast on his feet, as previously mentioned. Added to these attributes, he had a superior intelligence, which enabled him to analyze his opponent’s tactics and to outsmart him. He doubtless was a dangerous man in the ring. There is evidence that this is so. He gave an extremely good account of himself when he tackled such rough customers as Roaring Jack Woodley (The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist), Joseph Harris (The Naval Treaty), and an anonymous ruffian (The Final Problem); furthermore, the professional boxer McMurdo (The Sign of the Four) had a high regard for Holmes’ boxing ability.

Besides being a runner and a boxer, Holmes was a wrestler of no mean ability. He tangled with such villains as Colonel Sebastian Moran, the second most dangerous man in London (The Adventure of the Empty House); Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime (The Final Problem); and the vigorous and powerful German master spy Von Borck (The Last Bow). It has been suggested,[6] and I believe rightly, that Holmes used “baritsu” when dealing with these dangerous characters. They were real killers and would have stopped at nothing. Sherlock Holmes could not afford to take chances when he encountered them. In many instances, Holmes had the dependable and powerful Watson at his side; but whether alone or in company, we know he nearly always got his man.

We infer, especially from a certain episode, that Holmes possessed muscles of steel and had an iron grip. It will be remembered that on one occasion the fierce and gigantic Dr. Grimesby Roylott strode unannounced into the chambers at 221B Baker Street. In a fit of temper, he seized a poker, “... and bent it into a curve” (The Adventure of the Speckled Band). After the unpleasant visitor had left, Holmes without much apparent effort straightened the poker out—a task requiring more strength than the initial bending.

I have always felt that, in spite of this startling demonstration on the part of Holmes, for sheer bull-like strength Dr. Watson undoubtedly excelled him. It is true that once at least Watson met his match. He relates that on one occasion he was assaulted by an extremely powerful and active man who sprang upon him and nearly choked him to death (The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax). This is an unusual incident, and Watson must have been unprepared, for in a rough-and-tumble fight he could take care of himself in fast company. He had the courage and tenacity of an English bulldog, and, what is more important, knew how to use his strength. Watson did not pretend to be as quick on his feet as Holmes, but he had the other qualities just mentioned to a superlative degree, and these count for a great deal in a catch-as-catch-can bout. Holmes was cognizant of Watson’s prowess, for once the great detective stated that when a man was in a tight place there was no better man to have on one’s side than Watson.

An interesting query can be posed: How did these men keep themselves in reasonably sound physical condition? Watson does not help us to answer this question satisfactorily, for he has this to say about Holmes:

Watson makes two statements which especially require critical comment: the first one, “Few men were capable of greater muscular effort ...” and the second, “Then he was absolutely untiring and indefatigable.” These statements are not convincing, because they are not consistent. Watson plainly indicates that Holmes did not believe in training; and when the record is examined, we discover that actually both Holmes and Watson led sedentary lives. Neither of them engaged in any sport while residing at 221B Baker Street. The only exercise they took, when not working on a case, was walking.

It might be in order to digress a moment and speak of the physiology of exercise. As far as physical training is concerned, we know that there is no substitute for strenuous exercise. The physiology of training is not yet well understood, and but few objective criteria are recognized. There is one criterion, however, which is widely known, and that is the muscular hypertrophy produced by exercise. The classical example is the tremendously developed muscles of the arm of the blacksmith. Most of us in childhood learned Longfellow’s apt lines: “The smith, a mighty man is he, with large and sinewy hands; And the muscles of his brawny arms are strong as iron bands.”

Besides muscular development, there are other factors, although less objective in character and less clearly understood, which are brought about by training. Among these are adaptive changes in the cardiovascular and respiratory system, and certain chemical changes in the blood.

Several examples can be given to show that Dr. Watson appreciated the physiologic symptoms brought about by lack of physical training. On one occasion, he describes the unexpected visit to 221B Baker Street, upon a winter’s morning, of Mr. Alexander Holder, the financier of Threadneedle Street. “He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing ... he was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs.” Watson continues: “... the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door ...” (The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet). This excited and distracted individual finally composed himself and apologetically explained that, instead of taking a cab (because cabs go slowly through the snow), he had hurried to Baker Street on foot. Said he: “That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little exercise.” In this connection, one is reminded of Lewis Carroll’s lines:

On another occasion, Watson discloses that, because of his sedentary life, he became “blown” and was forced to slow down, whereas Holmes never faltered, because he was always in training. Watson admitted that his sedentary life had begun to tell upon him and he had to fall behind. Holmes, on the other hand, never slackened his pace, and apparently had an inexhaustible supply of nervous energy (The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist).

Another example is found in The Hound of the Baskervilles. It will be remembered that, on a damp, sullen evening, Dr. Watson and Sir Henry attempted to catch the escaped criminal Selden, who was hiding out on the moor. Watson, in his report to Holmes, writes:

In this instance, Watson mentions that he was in fairly good physical condition, although he does not tell us how he managed to reach that state. We must assume that he had been keeping his weight down by dieting and probably taking long walks on the lonely moor. These two factors alone, however, are not sufficient to fit a man for extraordinary and prolonged physical exertion. As pointed out previously, the only way this can be done is by daily, well-regulated, arduous exercise.

In the matter of physical fitness, there is another side of the shield which we must examine. A few individuals, although not many, in spite of their sedentary habits, are apparently at all times physically fit. The muscles of these men seem to keep their firmness and power even though they are but little used. This is difficult to understand. Sherlock Holmes probably was one of these unusual people.

I doubt whether Watson would fit into this category. The good doctor probably had a tendency to put on weight rather easily, and one gets the impression from reading the tales that Watson liked his three square meals each day. He was, to my mind, a typical beefeater. Furthermore, he smoked a great deal, but for that matter so did Holmes. Smoking is thought to interfere with physical fitness; it is said to be “hard on the wind.” Athletes in training are invariably forbidden to smoke. Just how smoking affects physical fitness is not known. It is generally conceded, however, that tobacco in any form, especially if used to excess, reduces both mental and physical efficiency. There is considerable scientific proof for this statement, although this is not the place to present it.

The beneficial effect of even a moderate amount of exercise has been questioned by otherwise intelligent men. A brilliant colleague of mine, for example, contends that the only thing exercise does is to make one fit for still more exercise ad infinitum. Well, in a measure this is true, for exercise really is the basis of training, as has been repeatedly emphasized. One famous educator in this country has publicly stated that, when he feels like exercising, he lies down until the feeling passes away. Then there is the story of Chauncey Depew, who lived to the age of ninety-four. When asked what exercise he took to maintain his health, he replied: “The only exercise I have ever taken is to serve as pallbearer for my friends who exercised.” I suspect that these members of the intelligentsia, in their zeal to make their points, have purposely overstated their case.

Be that as it may, many people insist that a certain amount of exercise causes them to feel better. Admittedly, it is difficult for them to explain just what is meant when they say “feel better”—it is a subjective rather than an objective matter. Several reasons can be mentioned, however, why moderate exercise seems beneficial to many people.

To those whose work keeps them constantly at a desk, exercise comes as a welcome relief from monotony. Physiologically, we know that a change of occupation in many instances is as good as a rest. A brisk walk through the park—or better still, in the country—brings to the eye a shifting panorama and relieves boredom and fatigue. Many people enjoy sports, such as a leisurely swim or a short round of golf. The pursuit of these not only calls for exercise, but rests the mind from vexing problems. In fact, there is something intangible about it all; in many individuals, a pronounced psychic component unquestionably plays an important part. Keeping fit, for example, often produces a mental lift and makes some people feel quite content with themselves. This feeling may assume sizable, if not untoward, proportions. The person who takes exercise regularly, who keeps his waistline down, and maintains himself in a fairly good physical state, may feel smug and distinctly superior. He often looks down with pity at his friends who do not believe “in exercise for exercise’s sake,” and, we might add, whose figures confirm and illustrate the fact.

In discussing the philosophy of exercise, we wish to make clear that there is no proof that strenuous muscular activity is beneficial to the body. Indeed, great physical exertion in those past middle age may be deleterious to the organism. The late distinguished English physiologist, Professor F. A. Bainbridge, has happily stated: “The exercise consequent upon the ordinary activities of life is sufficient.”

Exercise, however, should not be counted upon to bring about weight reduction. It has been shown, for example, working with marathon runners at the Harvard Fatigue Laboratories, that it took two and one-half hours of steady running to burn up two pounds of carbohydrates. It has been facetiously pointed out that the most telling exercise leading to a trim figure is the simple procedure of pushing the chair away from the dining table.

The current belief is that people who keep reasonably fit appear healthier than those who do not. Watson caught this thought when he wrote that Mr. Garrideb had a cadaverous face, his skin was dull, and it resembled that of a person who never exercised (The Adventure of the Three Garridebs).

In passing, we find a reference concerning a means of taking exercise which shows the austere Holmes in a light frame of mind. He twits Watson about an individual’s using only one dumbbell, and facetiously states that such a person would not develop his muscles symmetrically, and as a consequence might suffer from curvature of the spine (The Valley of Fear). Holmes does not tell the whole story. The single dumbbell which worried him could have been used alternately by the right and left hand, and thus unilateral development would be prevented. Watson, as a medical man, knew this; but like a good soldier he let Holmes have his fun and made no reply.

In conclusion, we may say that the principal question we have raised still remains unanswered: that is, how did Holmes and Watson keep themselves in good physical condition? This will always be a mystery. Search as we will, we can find no evidence that either Holmes or Watson kept himself in training. This seems remarkable since there were times when they needed strength and stamina in order to put their foes out of commission, and indeed there were occasions when their very lives depended upon it.

It is difficult to believe that unless Holmes and Watson kept themselves in fairly good condition they could have held their own against strong and desperate men, who presumably were in good fighting form. When one considers how important it was for our heroes to keep physically fit, one is drawn to the irresistible conclusion that they actually took much more exercise and kept themselves in far better training than appears in the tales. Besides their long walks through London, they probably took setting-up exercises at 221B Baker Street. They may even have done some weight lifting or have used dumbbells (since Holmes was so concerned about finding a single dumbbell); perhaps they boxed with each other. It is even possible that they did some swimming. It will be recalled that, after his retirement, Holmes frequently went swimming (The Adventure of the Lion’s Mane). They may have engaged in still other forms of exercise. I, for one, am ready to believe that they did not lead such sedentary lives as Dr. Watson would have us think.