And the Cumberbatch rises like the sun over Comicon.

Would Basil Rathbone have magically visited the Hall H line at Comicon during the night?

Would William Gillette have sat on a panel with Arthur Conan Doyle and John Kendrick Bangs to discuss where Holmes would pop up next in 1899?

We can't really say how the icons of Sherlock past might have behaved in our modern media world. All we have is what we have, and in the center of so much of it is that this week was about that Sherlock at the center of our six year resurgence of Sherlocklemania, Benedict Cumberbatch.

Hard not to be a fan of the guy at this point, and if you're still not (and I know many out there aren't), well I  applaud your staunch resolution, ability to remain fixed in time, or peculiar taste in Sherlocks, whatever the case may be. You are the rare Pokemon that someone will want to throw a Pokeball at one day. 

(Oops . . . if you're tired of hearing about Benedict Cumberbatch, you're probably really tired of hearing about Pokemon. My 'pologies.)

But with a big Marvel Comics movie and what might be the ultimate season of Sherlock both tickling fancies at this year's San Diego Comicon, Benedict Cumberbatch is more in the catbird seat than ever before this summer. And it seems to suit him well.

As a Sherlock Holmes fan, there is a time to resist the tides of fad and fancy, and a time to just let the wonder of it all wash over you . . . and I'm pretty sure this is a season of the latter. Those who, six years ago, were seen by some judgmental sorts as less than serious Sherlockians due to their excitement over the actor have proven themselves over and over again, just as their favorite Sherlock actor has in his own career.

Has it only been six years? As the saying goes, "Thanks, Obama!"

(Hey, the guy gets blamed for everything, might as well give him credit for everything, too.)