The Adaptation Problem

One thing that has delighted me about the fabulous Sherlock & Co. podcast is that one of my totally non-Sherlockian friends is listening to it and loving it. Today he texted me that he'd finished Sherlock & Co.'s "Gloria Scott" adaptation and how intense parts of it were. He then asked if these were based on the original stories . . . and I had to do a "Yes, but . . ."

"The Gloria Scott" is not really a favorite among Sherlock Holmes stories. I would not recommend it to anyone who was not already a fan of Holmes and the better tales. Because it's not really a highlight, sad to say. Yet Sherlock & Co. made it pretty darn fun.

And that presents a new issue with adaptations that I never thought about before.

What if they actually are better than the originals?

As our local library discussion group is fond of noting when they discuss first looks at the tales, they are dated in ways we didn't even think about twenty years ago, and they were dated in ways we did think about then. And its more than the "isms" one encounters. Some of the situations involved are harder and harder for a modern reader to relate to. Very few Sherlockians in 2024 are coming to the fandom directly from the original stories. Sherlock Holmes clicks with them in some other medium and they follow the river of Holmes back to its source. 

In the last century, "not as good as the originals" was a constant refrain. The question "Why can't they just do straight adaptations to the screen, like the Jeremy Brett series?" could be heard again and again.

But did we really want to see a straight adaptation of every one of the sixty stories? Like "The Gloria Scott?" Young Holmes goes on vacation meets his friend's father, leaves, and later comes back just as his friend's father dies of a stroke and reads the story of what was stressing the old guy out. Oh, and he figures out a word puzzle. When Granada did adapt a "young Holmes" story with "Musgrave Ritual," even they added Watson to the mix.

At some point, we actually need adaptations of the Sherlock Holmes stories to be better than the originals, to keep Sherlock Holmes alive in the culture. No one can afford to make productions just for the populace of avowed diehard Sherlockians -- we a literally less than a millionth of the world's total population. If we were a country and went to war with the fans of any NFL team, South Korean boy band, or, bless her heart, Taylor Swift, we'd be snuffed from existence immediately. But all those regular folks who find some version of Sherlock Holmes entertaining enough to watch a TV show, see a movie, or listen to a podcast keep our hero alive for us.

As I said, I am delighted my friend is into Sherlock & Co. We've been friends for over thirty years, and he knows more than enough about Sherlockiana just from knowing me. But he's not jumping into a local scion or coming to Dayton, Minneapolis, or New York. His enjoyment of Robert Downey Jr. or Harry Atwell is enough, reminding me that I'm not entirely crazy for dedicating so much time to this hobby. (Not entirely! Hee hee.)

So bring on the adaptations! Some will rise to the top, and some will sink into the great Grimpen Mire. (Speaking of which, after their adaptation of The Sign of the Four, I am dying to see what Sherlock & Co. does with the best of the novels.) But in the end, they will keep Sherlock Holmes alive, for generation after generation after generation.

The Practically Canonical Tent Joke Prequel

While the classic tent joke premise is non-Canonical, there is a place where a tent joke actually does fit in. Before Sherlock Holmes, there was Watson's other friend . . .

Dr. Watson and Murray the orderly went camping, somewhere between Mumbai (then Bombay) and Kandahar. 

"Why do they call this a 'dome' when the canvas is draped from that single center pole?" Murray asked as he stared at the roof of their two man tent. "Aren't domes round?"

"Who called it a dome?" Watson inquired, as he hadn't heard it described in that way.

"Captain Moran -- you know, the one with that grand moustache."

"Ah. The gambler. Heard he bagged a Bengal today that had attacked a mail runner." Watson sighed. "I suspect that fellow enjoys going out of his way just to shoot things."

"Still sore from Moran picking at your double-barrelled musket, are you?" Murray chuckled. "Why do you even have that thing? You're a doctor."

"My brother insisted I take it. More of a hunting piece than an army one. You'd think Moran would have appreciated that, if he's the sportsman he claims to be."

Murray suddenly sat up and froze, motioning Watson to keep silent. 

"What is is?" Watson whispered.

"I hear something," Murray whispered back.

Something pushed against the side of the tent, then again closer to the front flaps. The front tent flaps rustled and a furry feline head came through.

"TIGER!" Watson shouted and grabbed for his double-barrelled musket, swung it toward the intruder, and pulled both triggers. The musket clicked on empty chambers.

"Rowr" chirped the curious tiger cub.

Murray broke into hysterical laughter and Watson found himself laughing along.

"Shoo!" he said and tried to wave the cub off, but the young tiger started swatting back at Watson with his paws. Using his musket's barrels, he pushed the tiger cub out of the tent and tied the flaps up tight, also holding them together until he was sure the cub had moved on.

"We should have brought a guard dog," Watson suggested. 

"Only Americans use pup tents," Murray quipped.

"Go to sleep," the doctor ordered.

And so they slept. And at some point in the night, Murray attempted to wake Watson.

"Watson . . . Watson . . . wake up," the orderly spoke quietly.

"What?"

"Look up and tell me what you see."

"If somebody didn't steal our tent, I'm not opening my eyes."

Something snuffled next to Watson's face.

The tiger cub was back.

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Okay, I have no idea how to write a joke. And I don't know what happens with that tiger cub now. So I guess this is just random fanfic at this point.  Thanks and apologies to all who make it to this sentence.

The Grand Game turns out to be a match, or have a match, or . . .

 It's been a good week.

Sherlock & Co. had my favorite episode ever. I signed up for March's Holmes, Doyle, & Friends conference. And a noted Sherlockian authority declared that Sherlockiana and professional wrestling are pretty much the same thing.

I KNEW IT!!!!

Going back as far as June 1985, and a little newsletter article entitled "When Holmesamania Was Running Wild" commemorated the "Brawl at the Falls" where Holmes surely body-slammed Moriarty into the abyss (and Watson horribly corrupted "body slam" to make it sound faux-Japanese), I've been trying to connect professional wrestling and Sherlockian scholarship. Always trying, but never quite getting there, I have spent the laster nearly four decades trying in vain to tie the two together.

And then, like some Krampusnacht miracle, it happened. 

I Hear of Sherlock Everywhere posted Scott Monty's revelation "The Sherlockian Game Gets A New Word in the Dictionary."

"What could that word be?" I wondered aloud, as I often claim to do when I'm writing my reactions to things. Could it be "Canon?" No, in the dictionary already. "Headcanon?" I had, just this week, heard a wrestling podcaster refer to his own headcanon about a particular wrestling storyline and wondered where that word came from first. And then I just went "Heck with all this guessing!" and read Scott's article.

Kayfabe! Kayfabe was the wo . . . wait a minute. That's a pro wrestling term!

But it all became clear as he cited the word's broader usage: "tacit agreement to behave as if something is real, sincere, or genuine when it is not."

And just as wrestlers train, work out, and strain their bodies to perform their art, so do Sherlockians train their minds, exercise their studies, and push their talents with words to perform their art. Both occasionally risk looking quite ridiculous, and sometimes just go for it and look quite ridiculous on purpose. The same countries seem to favor both . . . Japan, England, America . . . though the Saudis haven't arranged a BSI function in their homeland the way they got the American WWE to bring their best.

And of course, there is that one classic movie that brought in a pro wrestler to fight Sherlock Holmes, only to have Watson do a run-in and beat Holmes's foe with a chair -- those guys knew what was up! One more sign that Holmes and Watson was far ahead of its time and the rest of the world will catch up to it eventually. (And that, my friends, is NOT me doing kayfabe.)

As the producer of a podcast called Sherlock Holmes Is Real, I guess I probably knew there was some kayfabe in this hobby all along. But I just didn't know that word connected us with pro wrestling so well until today. Thanks, Scott, and a happy Krampusnacht to all, and to all a good night! (Except for those bad kids who are going in the bag!)