Life without Sherlock Holmes

April has been a very strange month in Sherlock Peoria land.

As much written-about here, there was a period of totally Sherlockian living for a while, days as a Sherlock Holmes fan among Sherlock Holmes fans. But as the oft-theorized karmic balance would seem to have it, those days had to be balanced with a similar period of absolutely zero Sherlocks.

Maybe one sighting of a "Baskerville Apartments" pokestop. Maybe a couple of smart-alec text messages from a co-worker with lines like "Mariah says come find us, Sherlock!" But those hardly count.

And the week is only half over, with obligations both professional and social holding back the river of Holmes that Sherlockian synapses keep bringing to the edge of output. One's audio Dorian Gray portrait, so to speak, starts to show some very strange features. (And if that statement is overly cryptic, well . . . like I said there are things being held back . . . the sort of things being held back that start turning a bit off.) When the usual things don't get to fall into their usual places, whatever remains, however improbable, must be unusual.

And perhaps in that realm of Sherlockiana where few really care to go.

But that's what happens when one gets pulled from the normal paths for a time. Eventually things get back to normal, but when they do, a little of the abnormal comes back with them.

So lets see what comes. Something to do with Sherlock Holmes, I suspect.