Auto-erotic Asphyxiation in the Canon and other Saturday bits

Today was a good day for a drive down to St. Louis to see my friends in the Parallel Case of that same city.

The Saturday afternoon story discussions at their local library inspired me to help start our own Peoria library discussion group a couple of years back, and the Sherlock Holmes Story Society has been doing quite well. It's quite a different animal than our old scion society, the Hansoms of John Clayton, which often suffered from that malady that a few Sherlockian social clubs have passed through over the years . . . socializing overpowering the Sherlock, with members starting to complain that other things were discussed more than the topic we were nominally there to discuss.

The focus upon a story, without the distractions of wait-staff, guests just along for the ride (or to meet the one semi-celeb in the group), or drinking, is one of the most inspirational parts of the Sherlockian life, when a room full of people try to make sense of all those marvelous details that Watson has put to paper for us. This afternoon, for example, "The Resident Patient" --  normally one of the more slender reeds of the Canon -- brought out all sorts of layers I never considered as being in that story before. Missing time. Important letters with content unknown. Victorian cover-ups of the socially unacceptable parts of life, like death due to auto-erotic asphyxiation.

London criminals were up to all sorts of things, and sometimes Scotland Yard just goes with "Oh, they were on a boat that sunk. Cheers!" (I now have to wonder if  even "a curious newspaper cutting reached us from Buda-Pesth" in another tale was just Lestrade passing on another theory that justice was served, even though criminals escaped, and putting another "Case close" check mark in his file.)

I'll let you find the full write-up when it comes to the Parallelogram blog in the next few days, but suffice it to say that the Parallel Case of St. Louis has it pretty well figured out -- Saturday afternoon dedicated discussion followed by a trip across the street to a nearby whiskey house for drinks and an appetizer or two. (Most of us went for a "retired Sherlock" cocktail called "the Bee's Knees," which is the only drink I've ever encountered that just gets better as the ice melts, thanks to its honey-laced ice cubes.)

Good things coming out of St. Louis these days, and an event in one of our old stomping grounds next year. It made for a very pleasant Saturday.

Oh . . . and did I mention that the next Watsonian Weekly got most of its episode recorded there? Coming soon to a pod-player near you!