Fandoms, as a whole, have become a force of nature.
Take a look at the Comic Cons, those conventions that once were a comic-geeks-only thing unheard of in mainstream media and the change in the world is obvious: what once drew 13,000 people in 1990 now sells out its limit of 130,000 tickets in less than an hour and fifteen minutes. In the Sherlockian world, 221B Con pulled in an impressive (for Sherlockiana) seven hundred folks last year and then followed up with more than a thousand this year.
With the connectivity of the web and commonplace air travel, the old statement that Sherlock Holmes made about his original Baker Street irregulars has become true of the great masses of fans out there: "They can go everywhere, see everything, overhear everyone." Except, ironically, in the case of the carefully guarded exclusive function that is the annual dinner of the capital "i" Baker Street Irregulars.
And one can see some reasoning behind keeping the wagons in a circle against the whoopin' and hollerin' hordes of newly minted Sherlock Holmes fans, to use an old folks metaphor. But it wasn't always so. In 1950, for example, the number of Sherlock Holmes fans gathering for dinner in January in New York City was a grand total of fifty, thirty members and twenty representatives of the scion societies. And at that time, one can easily imagine that they weren't turning too many people away. If you known to someone in the group who could vouch for you and a way to get there and pay your check, you could likely got a pretty decent welcome from Edgar Smith.
I say this, not because I was alive back then, but because it didn't seem all that different when I first got into Sherlockiana. A solid Sherlock Holmes fan who got around a little seemed to be able to make their way into the Irregulars without too much of an issue. At one point, there was a bit of a ruckus from people bringing along non-Sherlockian friends who ignored the program -- it was that easy to get and invitation with a B.S.I. friend. And getting to be a member? John Bennett Shaw used to speak often of only vetoing the potential membership of two people, an asshole and a Nazi, so it seemed like if you weren't one of those (or could pass as otherwise), you'd probably be welcome.
Did that change as the years passed? It seemed so. Was it the growth in our Sherlockian communities fostered by Nicholas Meyer and later Jeremy Brett? Was it air travel becoming much easier? Or was it the admittance of women to the ranks, effectively doubling the potential attendees? All of the above? At some point, it just seemed a whole lot harder to get in the door. Especially if the one guy in charge didn't think you had the right stuff, despite the fact that the previous one guy in charge seemed to think you did for numerous years before.
And then came our current wave. Circle those wagons, Gracie, we don't want a thousand 221B Conners knocking down Vincent Starrett on their way to the bar! (Yes, he still attends at 127 years of age. He's very brittle. Okay, so don't believe me . . .)
We live in a world Edgar Smith could never have imagined, and he had a pretty good imagination. His Baker Street Irregulars no longer exist, an honest observer must admit. It is a different day. Smith still makes good reading on the subject, as it's surprising how many things come 'round again. But the internet has us changing as a society, and how can any society within that society remain untouched?
Sometimes the barriers around the exclusive B.S.I. dinner seem like building up the levees around New Orleans as the sea level rises. Some folks leave the city to set up shop elsewhere and try to preserve a lifestyle. Some crazy guy is just going to say, "Let the water in, make it a floating city." Change is going to come, one way or the other. And it already has.
But who knows, maybe the tide will still turn . . . . the force of nature that fandom has become is still a mostly uncharted thing.
The ongoing investigation of Sherlock Holmes, reported from the Peoria, Illinois outpost of Baker Street's dirtiest half a dozen.
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
And now we're clock-watchers.
I don't think I was ever so aware of what time it was in London until the BBC started playing with time.
First it was the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Who last year, broadcast at the same time around the world. And now we're back to 2:21 P.M. again, less than two hours away. Something is coming. Something Sherlockian.
Sitting here in Peoria on Central Standard Time (No wonder we have so many narcissists in the American midwest -- our time zone literally tells us we're in the center of the universe!), we may be six hours behind the home of Holmes, but it's getting hard to think of 8:21 A.M. as anything but 2:21 PM London time since the word started to spread yesterday in the Twitterverse of an announcement to come at that magical minute.
I've blogged about 2:21 before, because it is a magical minute, that one time twice a day that an ardent Sherlockian will take note of the moment if a digital clock is anywhere at hand. It didn't jump out at you nearly so much when the big hand was just past the "4" and the little hand a bit past the "2" on an old round clock, but seeing that "2:21" appearing if you glanced at the time . . . well, there's a spark of Sherlockian joy our predecessors from the 1940s never got to have.
And the folks behind BBC Sherlock seem to enjoy using the magic minute to stir up enthusiasm for their latest announcement -- undoubtedly the date of the next episode(s) of the show -- and while not exactly a stroke of unparalleled genius, it's pretty damn cool. One more sign that they get what it is to be a fan, and how the littlest things can be a part of Sherlockian fan-play.
2:21 P.M. in Mecca passed a while ago, now I'm waiting for 2:21 P.M. at Reichenbach Falls in twenty-one minutes. It would be fun to spend a day noting 2:21 as it occurs in sites from the Canon of Holmes -- hey, anyone wanting to steal that idea for a Twitter day, if someone hasn't done it already, feel free.
And an hour after 2:21 P.M. at Reichenbach Falls comes 2:21 at 221B.
2:21 at 221. It's a bit like the stars and planets aligning to announce the birth of some major religious figure, isn't it?
And so we wait. And watch. And enjoy the antici . . . . . . . . pation, Sherlockian-style.
First it was the fiftieth anniversary of Dr. Who last year, broadcast at the same time around the world. And now we're back to 2:21 P.M. again, less than two hours away. Something is coming. Something Sherlockian.
Sitting here in Peoria on Central Standard Time (No wonder we have so many narcissists in the American midwest -- our time zone literally tells us we're in the center of the universe!), we may be six hours behind the home of Holmes, but it's getting hard to think of 8:21 A.M. as anything but 2:21 PM London time since the word started to spread yesterday in the Twitterverse of an announcement to come at that magical minute.
I've blogged about 2:21 before, because it is a magical minute, that one time twice a day that an ardent Sherlockian will take note of the moment if a digital clock is anywhere at hand. It didn't jump out at you nearly so much when the big hand was just past the "4" and the little hand a bit past the "2" on an old round clock, but seeing that "2:21" appearing if you glanced at the time . . . well, there's a spark of Sherlockian joy our predecessors from the 1940s never got to have.
And the folks behind BBC Sherlock seem to enjoy using the magic minute to stir up enthusiasm for their latest announcement -- undoubtedly the date of the next episode(s) of the show -- and while not exactly a stroke of unparalleled genius, it's pretty damn cool. One more sign that they get what it is to be a fan, and how the littlest things can be a part of Sherlockian fan-play.
2:21 P.M. in Mecca passed a while ago, now I'm waiting for 2:21 P.M. at Reichenbach Falls in twenty-one minutes. It would be fun to spend a day noting 2:21 as it occurs in sites from the Canon of Holmes -- hey, anyone wanting to steal that idea for a Twitter day, if someone hasn't done it already, feel free.
And an hour after 2:21 P.M. at Reichenbach Falls comes 2:21 at 221B.
2:21 at 221. It's a bit like the stars and planets aligning to announce the birth of some major religious figure, isn't it?
And so we wait. And watch. And enjoy the antici . . . . . . . . pation, Sherlockian-style.
Monday, June 30, 2014
Letters from a Baker Street Irregular.
Want to know how to tongue-tie a blogger? Make him stop and think.
As any regular follower of Sherlock Peoria might have noticed over the years, a lot of what appears here is reaction. Reaction to the Canon, to television, to some event in the Sherlockian social swirl. Sometimes, a single blog-post evolves from one topic to the next, just because the title was written before the rest of it was completely thought-out, and new ideas occur . . . and are allowed to derail the entire process. Just like these opening paragraphs.
Given recent events, I had been telling myself all week that I should pull out a certain old correspondence file from 1989 and see what one Jon Lellenberg, B.S.I., wrote me back then, at a time when I had just become a member of the Irregulars, tried to put into words what made my investiture a bit troubling (the male-only thing), and was more successful at offending folks than moving the cause forward. They're hard letters for me to read, as it brings back a time when this fun little hobby of Holmes was not so fun for a time, and it's very hard to see yourself fail at communicating something you feel strongly about. A few calls for my resignation did ensue, but Tom Stix gave me a phone call and not the boot, but it seemed near enough at the time to make the old business worth reflecting on.
With many another summer distraction, however, I didn't get to pulling those letters out last week. But then, upon returning home this Saturday night, I found a new letter from Jon in my mailbox . . . a letter in itself being a nearly magical anachronism these days.
And I immediately got blog-writer's block, as I found myself stopping to think again. There are a small handful of Sherlockians who always make me have to stop and think, whether agreeing or disagreeing with whatever I'm up to, and Jon Lellenberg is definitely among them.
So, for the moment, I have an actual snail-mail letter to write in reply, as seems appropriate, in which thoughts will be passed along that won't be appearing in blog-world just yet. Just like most folks used to do in the olden days, before Facebook and its kin started bringing folks up to turn private thoughts public on a regular basis.
I suspect many of us are going to be thinking a lot about what it is to be a Baker Street Irregular this summer, and I think I'm done reacting on that subject for the moment, looking back on what happened in 1989. But I'm not nearly done writing . . . or thinking about it all.
Stay tuned.
As any regular follower of Sherlock Peoria might have noticed over the years, a lot of what appears here is reaction. Reaction to the Canon, to television, to some event in the Sherlockian social swirl. Sometimes, a single blog-post evolves from one topic to the next, just because the title was written before the rest of it was completely thought-out, and new ideas occur . . . and are allowed to derail the entire process. Just like these opening paragraphs.
Given recent events, I had been telling myself all week that I should pull out a certain old correspondence file from 1989 and see what one Jon Lellenberg, B.S.I., wrote me back then, at a time when I had just become a member of the Irregulars, tried to put into words what made my investiture a bit troubling (the male-only thing), and was more successful at offending folks than moving the cause forward. They're hard letters for me to read, as it brings back a time when this fun little hobby of Holmes was not so fun for a time, and it's very hard to see yourself fail at communicating something you feel strongly about. A few calls for my resignation did ensue, but Tom Stix gave me a phone call and not the boot, but it seemed near enough at the time to make the old business worth reflecting on.
With many another summer distraction, however, I didn't get to pulling those letters out last week. But then, upon returning home this Saturday night, I found a new letter from Jon in my mailbox . . . a letter in itself being a nearly magical anachronism these days.
And I immediately got blog-writer's block, as I found myself stopping to think again. There are a small handful of Sherlockians who always make me have to stop and think, whether agreeing or disagreeing with whatever I'm up to, and Jon Lellenberg is definitely among them.
So, for the moment, I have an actual snail-mail letter to write in reply, as seems appropriate, in which thoughts will be passed along that won't be appearing in blog-world just yet. Just like most folks used to do in the olden days, before Facebook and its kin started bringing folks up to turn private thoughts public on a regular basis.
I suspect many of us are going to be thinking a lot about what it is to be a Baker Street Irregular this summer, and I think I'm done reacting on that subject for the moment, looking back on what happened in 1989. But I'm not nearly done writing . . . or thinking about it all.
Stay tuned.
Summer of Sherlock: The Engineer's Thumb
Well, summer can't be all play, sad to say, and in the summer of 1889, there came a day at the end of June when everybody had a little work to do.
The guard at Paddington station, Dr. Watson, a hansom cab driver, Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Bradstreet, an un-named plain-clothes policeman, the crew running a train, the Eyford station master . . . all of them had work to do that June, and much of it revolved around Mr. Victor Hatherly and the results of a job he had taken that summer.
Some of that list were public servants. Some, the the cabman and the rail folk, we can assume got their pay as a part of the natural course of things. But Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes? Did they bill Hatherly later, or were they just working pro bono due to his tragic situation crossing their paths?
"If it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes before you go to the official police," Dr. Watson suggests to Hatherly, with no mention of Holmes's rates and a tone of "I have this friend . . ."
Of course, Watson is the one who really has anything to bill for services rendered in this case. Sherlock Holmes is pretty much along for the ride with the police to see if there's anything interesting in it.
In fact, Sherlock Holmes's payment in this particular case is exactly what he tells Victor Hatherly that the hydraulic engineer got for his thumb-costing job out in Berkshire: Experience. Holmes had probably learned to take that in payment a lot as he first worked his self-directed internship at a profession the world had never seen before, making his first inroads with Scotland Yard and his clients. The big money would come later, at least for Holmes.
The thumbless engineer probably didn't do too badly for himself either, as his story surely made him stand out among all the other candidates for any job he put in for later in life.
For a story that is, in the end, all about money, there is very little of it floating around in "The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb," but it doesn't keep people from being on the job. And as we head into July, staying on the "job" of the Summer of Sherlock continues as well.
The guard at Paddington station, Dr. Watson, a hansom cab driver, Sherlock Holmes, Inspector Bradstreet, an un-named plain-clothes policeman, the crew running a train, the Eyford station master . . . all of them had work to do that June, and much of it revolved around Mr. Victor Hatherly and the results of a job he had taken that summer.
Some of that list were public servants. Some, the the cabman and the rail folk, we can assume got their pay as a part of the natural course of things. But Dr. Watson and Sherlock Holmes? Did they bill Hatherly later, or were they just working pro bono due to his tragic situation crossing their paths?
"If it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmes before you go to the official police," Dr. Watson suggests to Hatherly, with no mention of Holmes's rates and a tone of "I have this friend . . ."
Of course, Watson is the one who really has anything to bill for services rendered in this case. Sherlock Holmes is pretty much along for the ride with the police to see if there's anything interesting in it.
In fact, Sherlock Holmes's payment in this particular case is exactly what he tells Victor Hatherly that the hydraulic engineer got for his thumb-costing job out in Berkshire: Experience. Holmes had probably learned to take that in payment a lot as he first worked his self-directed internship at a profession the world had never seen before, making his first inroads with Scotland Yard and his clients. The big money would come later, at least for Holmes.
The thumbless engineer probably didn't do too badly for himself either, as his story surely made him stand out among all the other candidates for any job he put in for later in life.
For a story that is, in the end, all about money, there is very little of it floating around in "The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb," but it doesn't keep people from being on the job. And as we head into July, staying on the "job" of the Summer of Sherlock continues as well.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
Bored now.
One of the attributes of Sherlock Holmes played up in BBC's Sherlock has been the detective's capacity for being bored by any given moment in time. Out of the original sixty stories, we actually find him being bored only four times -- three of them after he defeated Professor Moriarty at Reichenbach Falls and one being a hypothetical boredom regarding social invitations.
At least, that is "bored" by name.
"It saved me from ennui," Holmes says at the end of "The Red-Headed League." "Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me! My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so."
And we can't help but agree with Holmes, as his little problems help us escape the commonplaces of existence as well.
When one looks at all the creations, activities, discussions, events, and actual work that Sherlock Holmes fans have done over the years entirely apart from just reading his stories or watching his movies, one can easily see how much Sherlockiana is a life tool in our long ongoing effort to keep ourselves from being bored.
In The Sign of the Four, Sherlock Holmes chooses a different tool for "avoiding the dull routine of existence" -- his three-month experiment with morphine, cocaine, and probably some other drugs in various dosages. It's a little more dangerous than the three month, twelve hours a day, reading the annals of crime that he proposes to Inspector MacDonald in The Valley of Fear, giving one the distinct feeling that Holmes has done so himself. That reading session is a lot more intense than the drug session, which a drunken Watson finally complains about, early in the partnership.
In fact, that fanatical reading of the annals of crime sound a lot like fan behaviour. And since Sherlock Holmes didn't have Sherlock Holmes to be a fan of when he chose his "particular profession" and became the only unofficial consulting detective in the world. (At that time . . . but does anyone in such a profession exist now? Would he still be the only one?)
Last week, this blog asked the question, "Are you Holmes or are you Watson?" Now, I'd like to turn it around and ask "Who is closest to us? Holmes, the fan of studying and solving crime? Or Watson, the devoted follower of Holmes's exciting times?"
One has to escape the dull commonplaces of existence somehow, and a exploration of some piece of the Watsonian ouevre is always a helpful tonic for that.
At least, that is "bored" by name.
"It saved me from ennui," Holmes says at the end of "The Red-Headed League." "Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me! My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so."
And we can't help but agree with Holmes, as his little problems help us escape the commonplaces of existence as well.
When one looks at all the creations, activities, discussions, events, and actual work that Sherlock Holmes fans have done over the years entirely apart from just reading his stories or watching his movies, one can easily see how much Sherlockiana is a life tool in our long ongoing effort to keep ourselves from being bored.
In The Sign of the Four, Sherlock Holmes chooses a different tool for "avoiding the dull routine of existence" -- his three-month experiment with morphine, cocaine, and probably some other drugs in various dosages. It's a little more dangerous than the three month, twelve hours a day, reading the annals of crime that he proposes to Inspector MacDonald in The Valley of Fear, giving one the distinct feeling that Holmes has done so himself. That reading session is a lot more intense than the drug session, which a drunken Watson finally complains about, early in the partnership.
In fact, that fanatical reading of the annals of crime sound a lot like fan behaviour. And since Sherlock Holmes didn't have Sherlock Holmes to be a fan of when he chose his "particular profession" and became the only unofficial consulting detective in the world. (At that time . . . but does anyone in such a profession exist now? Would he still be the only one?)
Last week, this blog asked the question, "Are you Holmes or are you Watson?" Now, I'd like to turn it around and ask "Who is closest to us? Holmes, the fan of studying and solving crime? Or Watson, the devoted follower of Holmes's exciting times?"
One has to escape the dull commonplaces of existence somehow, and a exploration of some piece of the Watsonian ouevre is always a helpful tonic for that.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Have we hit maximum Sherlock saturation?
The prominence of Holmesian headlines these days is amazing:
TIME: Court: Sherlock Holmes Is Public Domain, My Dear Watson
Forbes: Get Ready For More Sherlock Holmes As Appeals Court Affirms Character Is In Public Domain
Smithsonian: “Sherlock Holmes” Is Now Officially Off Copyright and Open for Business
New York Times: Appeals Court Affirms Sherlock Holmes Is in Public Domain
If you had the least bit of interest in a famous detective named Sherlock Holmes and have missed the fact that his character is now in the public domain, you just haven't been paying attention. And this news bit comes at a very interesting time . . . just after the crest of one of the biggest waves of popularity that Sherlock Holmes has ever ridden. (Individual thoughts on the crest of the current wave may vary -- my gut says we just passed the peak.)
So now we come to the big question: Can Sherlock Holmes get any more popular?
The genie would seem to be loose from the bottle with the decision in that appellate court case, as news outlets everywhere are telling us. And folks looking to make a quick buck by doing something with Sherlock Holmes are going to take advantage, yes, but weren't a lot of them already doing that? The court decision virtually guarantees that there will be more Sherlock Holmes in the days ahead. But will it be high quality Holmes enough to raise that popularity bar another notch?
Or, forget high quality . . . Sharknado was popular, Kim Kardashian was popular, the McRib sandwich was popular . . . will we get Sherlock Holmes in more forms that are more consumable by the masses? The McRib sandwich of Sherlocks?
We've had a lot of Sherlock Holmes lately, but we haven't really hit a saturation point. The fans are far from satiated and non-fans aren't complaining about him like he's World Cup soccer yet. Will that be the tell-tale indicator, when you hear someone at work going, "God, I wish they would quit with all the Sherlock Holmes stuff!" Could we even imagine such a day?
I don't know, ten years ago, it would have been pretty hard to imagine the state of Sherlock that we're in now.
And here we are now, with a public domain Sherlock Holmes and recent demonstrations of just how popular he can be, even in variant forms. The time is ripe for . . . .
You see, that's the really good part. The time is ripe for anything. We don't even know what's coming.
And as we haven't hit that critical saturation point yet, I'm guessing, so it most certainly is coming, whatever it may be.
Yay.
TIME: Court: Sherlock Holmes Is Public Domain, My Dear Watson
Forbes: Get Ready For More Sherlock Holmes As Appeals Court Affirms Character Is In Public Domain
Smithsonian: “Sherlock Holmes” Is Now Officially Off Copyright and Open for Business
New York Times: Appeals Court Affirms Sherlock Holmes Is in Public Domain
If you had the least bit of interest in a famous detective named Sherlock Holmes and have missed the fact that his character is now in the public domain, you just haven't been paying attention. And this news bit comes at a very interesting time . . . just after the crest of one of the biggest waves of popularity that Sherlock Holmes has ever ridden. (Individual thoughts on the crest of the current wave may vary -- my gut says we just passed the peak.)
So now we come to the big question: Can Sherlock Holmes get any more popular?
The genie would seem to be loose from the bottle with the decision in that appellate court case, as news outlets everywhere are telling us. And folks looking to make a quick buck by doing something with Sherlock Holmes are going to take advantage, yes, but weren't a lot of them already doing that? The court decision virtually guarantees that there will be more Sherlock Holmes in the days ahead. But will it be high quality Holmes enough to raise that popularity bar another notch?
Or, forget high quality . . . Sharknado was popular, Kim Kardashian was popular, the McRib sandwich was popular . . . will we get Sherlock Holmes in more forms that are more consumable by the masses? The McRib sandwich of Sherlocks?
We've had a lot of Sherlock Holmes lately, but we haven't really hit a saturation point. The fans are far from satiated and non-fans aren't complaining about him like he's World Cup soccer yet. Will that be the tell-tale indicator, when you hear someone at work going, "God, I wish they would quit with all the Sherlock Holmes stuff!" Could we even imagine such a day?
I don't know, ten years ago, it would have been pretty hard to imagine the state of Sherlock that we're in now.
And here we are now, with a public domain Sherlock Holmes and recent demonstrations of just how popular he can be, even in variant forms. The time is ripe for . . . .
You see, that's the really good part. The time is ripe for anything. We don't even know what's coming.
And as we haven't hit that critical saturation point yet, I'm guessing, so it most certainly is coming, whatever it may be.
Yay.
Monday, June 23, 2014
And now, a song!
Somewhere on my Sherlockian bucket list is one day finally making it out to an ASH luncheon . . . or dinner . . . or brunch. The Adventuresses of Sherlock Holmes have been known for their soirees for as long as I've been a fan of the great detective. You never know what's going to come out of an ASH event -- other than that somebody sure seemed to have some fun.
When the summer issue of The Serpentine Muse showed up in the mail today, I got to read of one of those little ASH treats, a tribute in song to TV's Elementary, by Karen Wilson. I'd heard good things about it along the Sherlockian grapevine, but the actual lyrics, meant to be sung to the tune of Frozen's "Let It Go" had a really great build to it . . . along with the line, "Watch the show, even though, in Peoria, it's panned."
Well, given that I'm Peoria's panner-in-chief when it comes to Elementary, and given that Sherlockiana has a long, rich history of songs being written in response to other Sherlockian songs . . . well, you know I had to come up with my own tuneful tribute to Elementary . . . from perhaps a slightly different angle.
And given that the original was created from a popular Disney tune, it seemed only appropriate to pick a popular little Disney tune from a bit further back. And so, without further ado, allow me to present:
When the summer issue of The Serpentine Muse showed up in the mail today, I got to read of one of those little ASH treats, a tribute in song to TV's Elementary, by Karen Wilson. I'd heard good things about it along the Sherlockian grapevine, but the actual lyrics, meant to be sung to the tune of Frozen's "Let It Go" had a really great build to it . . . along with the line, "Watch the show, even though, in Peoria, it's panned."
Well, given that I'm Peoria's panner-in-chief when it comes to Elementary, and given that Sherlockiana has a long, rich history of songs being written in response to other Sherlockian songs . . . well, you know I had to come up with my own tuneful tribute to Elementary . . . from perhaps a slightly different angle.
And given that the original was created from a popular Disney tune, it seemed only appropriate to pick a popular little Disney tune from a bit further back. And so, without further ado, allow me to present:
The Elementarys . . .
(Sung to the tune of "The Bare Necessities," from the movie The Jungle Book.)
(Sung to the tune of "The Bare Necessities," from the movie The Jungle Book.)
Look out for Elementarys,
Those network shows, not NBC’s,
Designed to numb your Thursday evening strife!
Beware of Elementarys,
Those funky clones of the BBC’s
Attempt to bring old Sherlock Holmes to life.
Whenever I turn on, I see a cop show
With a brand new Watson, whose balls had to go!
The bees are buzzing’ on the roof
Yet I still don’t think that’s the proof . . .
When Mycroft’s smart as a rock or plant
And then he gets into Watson’s pants . . .
Oh, please don't try this, too!
Those Elementarys each week will brainwash you!
They’ll brainwash you!
Look out for Elementarys,
Those scary Elementarys,
Forget about your Sherlock, two years off!
I mean they’re Elementarys
Addiction’s a spreading disease,
They're only missing David Hasselhoff.
Now when you watch some Cushings,
Or a Jeremy Brett
And you’d like some more things
You’d better beware!
Don’t gawk at Sherlocks found in New Yawk,
Ones that have pet cocks
And no Reichenbachs.
It might be Roger Moore, old sock,
Who’s down at the dock ripe for a good mock!
Don’t you miss Without A Clue?
Those Elementarys at night will brainwash you!
They’ll brainwash you!
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