Tuesday, August 23, 2011

It is my business to know what other people don't.

I've never been able to put my finger on precisely why I am captivated by the character of Sherlock Holmes, but captivated I am. I still have the version of 'The Speckled Band' I first read as a kid (a significantly simplified child's version, but we all have to start somewhere). In those pages the great detective sprang to life, intelligent beyond compare, charismatic, and of single-minded fortitude. Even when I discovered he had serious substance abuse problem and was, in reality, a high functioning sociopath capable of only the most basic human emotions and little empathy, I was undeterred. This was my guy. Not entirely losing touch with reality, I knew a fictional character was not an appropriate prospect for a long term relationship. Nevertheless, the obsession was banked, never abated. Recently, I've again been watching my favorite video incarnations of the amateur detective (who was anything but amateur), immortalized by the incomparable Jeremy Brett. Reading the stories, watching the episodes, are like saying hello to old friends, gone for a time, but never truly forgotten. And so I return to foggy Baker Street, pounding the cobblestones, keeping up with his hurried, determined stride. The game is afoot.

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