221B Baker Street has a grand piano?
It must be time for the Asylum Films Sherlock Holmes, a.k.a. "Sherlock Holmes and Dinosaurs!"
This year's 221B Con, as a part of its tenth anniversary, brought the favorite back to a big-ish screen as a part of its Friday night entertainments,which is where I'm currently reporting from. This con has been much busier for your humble blog correspondent for a variety of reasons, mainly emanating from Holmesian wunderkind Paul Thomas Miller flying over from Portsmouth for a visit with us Yanks (both of the Yankee and non-Yankee varieties, this being Atlanta and all).
Wait . . . is Anesidora Ivory the original M3gan? (Sorry, distracted by Thorpe Holmes's robot girlfriend in the movie.)
In any case, the tenth anniversary of 221B Con and Paul coming over resulted in two things today: My first trip to Waffle House (a great one in the center of Peachtree City) and trying out a new side of my favorite con, taking on a dealer's table. Which meant a hearty waffle brunch followed by the unloading and set-up of a whole lot of books.
A dealer's table is a great way to see the full range of 221B Con attendees, and, being the horrible businessman that I am, besides dealing in bargain prices on Paul's books, my books, and issues of The Watsonian, the journal of the John H. Watson Society, our table was giving away copies of the limited edition book The 221B Con Decade: Notes of a 221B Con Fan in celebration of the past ten years. So, two hours of getting to see the familiar faces roll by for the first two hours of con, then doing a little sushi with Rich Krisciunas, who was checking out the con for the first time, which, as ever cost me a panel, then in to Sherlock Holmes and Dinosaurs, which should really be "Sherlock Holmes and [SPOILER ALERT] Robots" but that ship has sailed and maybe we don't want to spoil that part, but oops.
Y'see, as I'm finishing this it's well past midnight, because after the movie and a little chatting in the bar, it was karaoke time, being run by the effervescent, energetic Leslie, and the tuneful, moving, howling-at-the-moon time-honoured ritual began . . . I always love the songs where half the room just joins in . . . ah, but even though I signed up for a song, I felt myself starting to fade, which was, of course, the time my number came up. So I put the last of my energy into "Viva Atlanta," which wasn't the town Elvis used, but what the heck, it's 221B Con!
So now, I must collapse. Apologies for not being a better reporter this year, so far, but let's see what Saturday brings!
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