221B Con 2026: Sunday Always Comes

 Well, here I am at the airport, hours early for my flight, but past security and full of a breakfast from Bantam and Biddy's on the C concourse. (Recommended. Good bacon.) My father-in-law always said, "If you have to wait somewhere, so you might as well be where you need to be." And now I have a little time to reflect on Sunday's 221B Con life.

Sunday's are hard at con, because you know the ride is almost over and you can see the place where you have to get off. Saturday night was a late one, whatever your version of late is, and that first 10 AM panel is not going to be as lively as some. Of the choices, I picked the Sherlolly panel, because I still think the hypothesized escape from the Reichenbach Fall that involved Sherlock kissing Molly Hooper as she facilitated his smooth survival strategy was part of my preferred theory on that bit. And the sweet girl deserved it . . . and let's not even get into how the bad sister used Molly against him later. I have thoughts.

And even though BBC Sherlock doesn't dominate 221B Con like it used to, you have to tip your hat to the one who brought everyone to the party on day one and inspired so much of what this convention is thirteen years later. The massive surge we saw at the start from the show has faded, and the con has gone from over eight hundred attendees to just under three hundred, but the current number still makes it one of the biggest things in Sherlock Holmes fan stuff, as well as a viable event. And that was important this year.

The transition in management this year went smoothly, and it still seemed like the familiar weekend I've known for over a decade. The Atlanta airport Marriott treats us well, and this year I even dicovered how easy it is to fly in and out with that hotel as a base. But back to the con . . .

As usual, socializing kept me from Mycroft and Lestrade panels, Conan Doyle's supernatural stories, consumption and brain fever, but I did make Raffles and Bunny for a while, before wandering off to talk to friends and take advantage of the food truck again. I was telling someone that I just go to the single-thread speaker weekends to see other Sherlockians, but since you're all in the room where the talks are going on, you have to listen to the talks. The multi-thread, multi-room nature of 221B Con makes it too easy to play hookey, and a lot of folks do. You always hear comments like "If there are almost three hundred people here, why were there only three people at panel X?" We have all of those people to talk to! And then there's the dealer's room.

I restrained myself as much as possible from a dealer's room spending spree this year, so much so that I almost missed picking up a beautiful book I had already paid for.  There's always a great array of things to shop for in the dealer's room, but I tend to focus on art. I missed getting a commission from one of the artists that was doing really good work for folks, but still managed a pretty decent array.

There are lately two final events that close out the con on Sunday afternoon the first is "An Hour with Ashley and Curtis," which is an always entertaining ramble on something from the original Sherlock Holmes stories that sometimes involves a dance. No dance this time, but a lot of good back and forth on the topic of "Dick Men in the Canon," predicated upon the fact that wherever you find a woman in the Sherlock Holmes stories, there will also be a dick man. And he might even be Sherlock Holmes.

The talk was punctuated with t-shirts thrown at the audience, as the con was purging its bins of previous con t-shirts. No injuries occurred, thankfully.

We had a half hour before "Our Last Bow," the con's final panel, so I dashed up to my room to squeeze in a nap, still feeling the effects of the day before. I returned, much refreshed, and plopped on the floor to let someone else have a chair in the filled room for the annual con recap panel. Announcements on the 2027 con, some final housekeeping, suggestions for next time, and more of those leftover t-shirts to give away (so many smalls -- none of us as as small as the attendees of that first con year these days). Everyone was appreciative of all those who helped create this year's event, and things weren't quite so emotional as when it was news of the con ending or not ending were topics.

And with that, the con was over. Those who weren't immediately flying out figured out dinner options. "Nerd soup" happens at the hotel pool. And we get the side restaurant space for any after-parties, but suddenly you realize it's 9 PM, you're very tired, and have to fly out in the morning. A few last chats and off for final packing and bed.

As with any great Sherlockian weekend, there are so many thoughts, potential projects, and follow-up e-mails to fill the days ahead as you digest this banquet of Sherlock Holmes fandom. For now, however, it's time to fly. Next time, Atlanta!