Summer of Sherlock: The Grand Finale.

Reading the summer cases of Sherlock Holmes on the dates they began has had some interesting turns along the way, but here, at summer's end, we encounter something we  haven't seen since June 1 -- a double event.

According to my reckoning of the case dates, "The Crooked Man" and "The Cardboard Box" both begin on August 30, two years apart. The former takes place in 1887, the latter 1889. Unlike when this date-sharing occurred on June 1, however, this time I thought I'd take on both cases together. And that's where we practically get into fan fiction territory.

"The Crooked Man" begins with a social situation unlike any other in the Canon. John H. Watson has married. He's working exhaustingly hard as a doctor, struggling to afford multiple servants and a house big enough that those servants can lock up the hall to their quarters at night. And yet, as exhausted as John Watson is, he can't seem to go to bed at the same time as his wife for some reason. As midnight approaches, he sits by the fireplace trying to stay awake and read a novel.

And the doorbell rings. Another patient, Watson thinks, and grimly drags himself to the door.

And there stands Sherlock Holmes.

Watson is astonished, and relieved.

"You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that you have no gentleman visitor at present," Holmes says . . . a statement that sounds extremely odd to the modern ear. Sherlock Holmes has just showed up at nearly midnight, and asked Watson to spend the night. It's a reunion of sorts, as Watson seems to have been playing husband and doctor to the exclusion of his old room-mate and lifestyle. And does Sherlock Holmes come in and go, "Quick, Watson, I have a case!"?

Nope. Sherlock Holmes comes into John Watson's home in the middle of the night, Watson is relieved to see him, and the two men sit down and smoke in silence for a time. Silence, after a time apart -- not talking about Holmes's case or Watson's job -- almost like they're both struggling to find words for something. Sherlock Holmes finally breaks the ice with some observations and deductions, and a little emotional outburst occurs between the two men.

"Excellent!" cries Watson.

"Elementary!" says Holmes.

And then something even more interesting occurs. Sherlock Holmes says this about Watson's first attempts at writing up their cases: "The same may be said, my dear fellow, for the effect of these little sketches of yours, which is entirely meretricious, depending as it does upon your retaining in your own hands some factors in the problem which are never imparted to the reader." Holmes's eyes grow bright and his cheeks grow red as those words are spoken.

Never imparted to the reader. Never. Not "clues you hold to the end of the case," no. "Never."

There is something about Holmes's cases Watson is never going to tell us. And Sherlock Holmes is sure that the case of "The Crooked Man" is missing the same element that Watson with-holds from his readers. What is that element?

Get ready for a spoiler, because I'm skipping straight to the end of the case on this one.

The missing element is the former love of a now-married individual. The case ends with a discussion of whether or not that scandalous truth needs to be brought forward. It apparently doesn't, and a little Bible discussion ends the case on the straight and narrow path.

With that, we skip ahead two years to the events of "The Cardboard Box."

Sherlock Holmes has John Watson back in a blazingly hot Baker Street, and Watson writes of his "companion" many times in the opening. That companion who knows him well enough to read his very thoughts. And what does the case they are about to become involved in center around? Get ready for more spoilers, as I'm skipping to the end once more:

Marital infidelity.

Something about this case's topic of marital infidelity would later hit Watson's literary agent so hard that he would retract the story's publication and keep it out of the public prints for years, so it would end up in a different collection of cases than the one it started it. But was it the infidelity of that story's sister and the sailor that affected Watson's agent so strongly? Or another infidelity it represented to him . . .  one never imparted to the reader.

In August of 1887, John H. Watson is a hard-working medico with a wife and household that he may have been struggling to hold together. The house, like many a house, needed a lot of work, and a lot of work needs a lot of money. And needing a lot of money can make things rough in a relationship.

In August of 1889, the wife, the household, and the problems all seem to be gone. Did that state somehow tie to a midnight visit by someone Watson cared about in 1887?

Well, I've never been a great proponent of the relationship that many fans are wanting Moffat and Gatiiss to eventually get to on Sherlock, but on some occasions in reading the Canon, one can easily get the impression that it was there already. Or was it?

Part of the joy of Dr. Watson's writings, from dates of the cases on up, have always been those things never imparted to the reader and left to our own perogatives and imaginations. And this will always be one of them. Enjoy deciding for yourself.

Upon genetically casting obscure Canonical characters.

Let's talk about Jeremy Brett's cousin for a second.

Until today, I didn't know I had seen a lot of Jeremy Brett's cousin in the last few years. Or that he even had a notable cousin. Ardent Brett fans are probably well aware that Martin Clunes of Doc Martin and many other roles was Jeremy's cousin, but it was news to me.

But once that fact was learned, a follow-up though came, quick as lightning: Martin Clunes needs to play Dr. Verner. Don't know where or how, but he just has to play Dr. Verner.

You remember Doc Verner, don't you? The distant relation of Sherlock Holmes who purchased Watson's practice so John could move back to Baker Street in "Norwood Builder?" (If I loved nothing else about Sherlock fans, the fact that they made us comfortable calling Watson by his first name would do the trick.)

Jeremy Brett's cousin playing Sherlock Holmes's cousin. Too perfect.

Now that we've had Benedict Cumberbatch's parents playing Sherlock Holmes's parents and Mrs. Martin Freeman playing Mrs. John Watson, it's a trend we might as well keep going. Someone could cast Mira Sorvino to play Alice Rucastle opposite Paul Sorvino playing Jephro Rucastle. Someone could even cast Jonny Lee Miller to play Sherlock Holmes for the first time opposite Jude Law's Waston. (They were room-mates once.)

Of course, Dr. Verner certainly hasn't gotten enough screen time yet, so he'd make a fine start.

BBC Sherlock gets one more female fan.

A usually long meeting ending curiously early tonight. My friends, in dropping me off at home,  saw our wandering cat up on the porch. We went up to say "hello" to the cat, and I began the opening motions of unlocking and opening the door.

"QUICK! GET IN HERE!" the good Carter exploded from the other side of the door.

Hurrying into the house, I rounded the corner into the living room to see Stephen Moffat on TV with an award in his hand.

So that glued my butt to the chair for the next hour.

And the name Freeman came up. And the name Cumberbatch came up.

And as much as  a part of me really wanted to jump up and go, "F@*K YEAH!" and then do an endzone display of unsportsmanlike conduct that would get an NFL player heavily fined, the larger part of me just gave a slight nod, the way one acknowledges the sun coming up in the morning, or that gravity pulls something to the ground.

I mean, Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. And the great Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson of our time, at that. And the Arthur Conan Doyle of our time. 

Too much? Too lavish praise? Tell it to a little lady named Emmy.

And Emmy is even late to the party. I can think of hundreds of pretty ladies who got there years before her, first witnessed back when that first 221B Con in Atlanta took my breath away. It's been an amazing ride for Sherlockians since Sherlock first aired, and my only regret is that they couldn't squeeze a special Emmy for Mark Gatiss in there somewhere. Well, and one for Sue Vertue, Rupert Graves, Una Stubbs, Conan Doyle, Katherine Parkinson, Louise Coles, Kevin Horsewood . . . just go to IMDB.com and track down everybody who had anything to do with that show. It's a good, good thing they've done. 

So happy they get a night to celebrate!

Do these storied giants make us better people?

There seems to be a strong connection between Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Who these days, both in a certain common creator and a lot of certain fans, so it should probably come as no surprise that the premiere of a brand new Doctor might inspire thoughts of a Sherlockian nature. (Especially when Madame Vastra is involved. More on her later.)

The last season of BBC Sherlock brought commentary from several directions that the writers were servicing the fans overmuch, and I was reminded of that strongly in Stephen Moffat's opening salvo of Doctor Who for this year. A new actor and a changed persona are a staple of the Who-niverse, and in this particular opener it felt that not only was he cognizant of the fans, he was actually preaching to them a bit through his characters . . . which then made one wonder what we have to expect in upcoming Sherlocks.

But aside from such quibbles, a rebooted story, as Dr. Who does a bit with its regenerations, definitely gives one a moment to step back and reconsider just what it is that attracts us to these characters, be they Sherlock Holmes or that doctor of unknown name.

Are they mere entertainments? Pretty young men or women with clever lines popping out of their mouths? Well, since Sherlock Holmes has not always be a pretty young person, we can be very certain that's not it. And his fan base has been strong in heterosexual males for eons, so he hasn't built the House of Sherlock on sex appeal, whatever his age.

No, good Sherlock Holmes, like good Doctor Who, like good . . . anybody, to me is a not just something you go brain dead and relax through. And it's not something that merely titillates with sex, violence, jokes, or other fleeting "shock and awe" tactics. No, there's something stimulating about a good hero with whom we can share an adventure or two. And not just something to get the blood pumping a little faster. No, our greatest, most legendary heroes actually make us feel like better people after spending time with them.

That's what I've always looked for in a Sherlock Holmes, and that's what I find I'm using to judge a new Doctor as well. Do they inspire, do they make you proud to be a person? Do you come away a little more energized from your time with them? Perhaps it's a high bar, but as long as certain creators can dish that delicacy out in ample portions, I think I'll keep that as my base criteria.

Now, back to Madame Vastra . . . her character on Dr. Who always makes me a little sad. Love her little Victorian team, with Jenny Flint and Strax, yes. But Madame Vastra has always been played as the inspiration for Sherlock Holmes. Her cases seem to have been his cases. She's smart, but always eclipsed by the Doctor. And she's a lizard, and you know how us mammals instinctively feel about those scaly bastards.

Madame Vastra, sad to say, doesn't have that certain something the real Sherlock Holmes brings. She's also a major impediment to any Dr. Who/Sherlock Holmes crossovers . . . which would be a rough go in any case, as it would suddenly allow that crazy aliens exist in the world of Sherlock. (As he once said, "The world is big enough for us. No ghosts need apply." Nor aliens. They have their own big worlds.)

With Peter Capaldi, the newest actor to take on the Doctor, however, I think we find something we haven't seen since Tom Baker took the big leap (to mixed results) . . . a Doctor Who who could also do a pretty fair Sherlock Holmes. It'll be fun to see how it goes.

The rise of Sherlock Holmes, elementary, and the Garrideb.

Today I stumbled across the Google Ngram Viewer, a lovely device for charting the use of phrases in "lots of books" over time. And what great fun it is to play with!

It seems to come all ready to chart "Albert Einstein,Sherlock Holmes,Frankenstein," and if you limit it to "Sherlock Holmes," the following chart pops up:

Sherlock Holmes obviously couldn't become popular until he actually existed as a working adult in the 1880s. There were plainly many Sherlocks before him, however, as this chart of his first name reveals:

So let's try something different -- the one word most associated with Mr. Sherlock Holmes, even before that dreadful TV show: "elementary."

This is where it gets interesting. "Elementary" actually peaks in the year 1929 and again in 1938, with a nice vogue in between. And since Basil Rathbone doesn't even start his reign as Holmes until 1939, we can't give him credit -- he might have even caused the word to become less popular, as crazy as that sounds. No, 1929 is definitely Clive Brook's Sherlock era. But since the Canon had its final story in 1926 and complete editions were just starting to come out then . . . or maybe it's complete coincidence and has nothing to do with Holmes, being instead, all about elementary schools. What can we be certain had to do with Sherlock Holmes?

Garridebs. Those uniquely-named, freakin' Garridebs.

If you look at the graphs for "Sherlock Holmes," "elementary," and "Garrideb," you'll find the greatest surge of popularity among published works in the Google Ngram search occurs right around 1930, when The Complete Sherlock Holmes was published. No stage actor, no movie series, no fan club ever had the impact upon Sherlock Holmes in print as that moment in time. Of course, I am reading the data with a certain bias. Take your own wanderings through the Google Ngram Viewer and see what you stumble upon -- fun will most certainly be a part of it, if you're anything close to the data-geek this blogger is.

Sherlock Holmes and the Gecko brothers.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: Once upon a time, this study, this hobby, we called Sherlockiana was a rare and special thing. Now, we're definitely not alone.

Taking the works of Dr. John H. Watson and thinking beyond what what his Literary Agent had gotten into print, imagining the lives of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson beyond their little mysteries . . . it was something that wasn't going on in an organized fashion anywhere else before the middle of the last century. Eventually Star Trek would come along and raise a fan army whose minds would work like that of Sherlockians, but they were facing the future and not the past, and working out how warp drive might work always seemed a mite more fanciful than researching where exactly 221B Baker Street was located.

These days, however, it's not just the multitude of fandoms that are fleshing out our fictional realities . . . the professionals are doing it, too. Which is why I'm about to relate Sherlock Holmes, detective, to the Gecko brothers, bank robbers.

In 1996, Quentin Tarantino and Robert Rodriguez came out with a quirky little film called From Dusk Till Dawn. Half crime thriller, half vampire movie, Dusk Till Dawn snaked its way into the hearts of many a ". . . boy who's half a man. Or man who's half a boy . . ." as ACD would say. George Clooney was first making his mark as an actor, Danny Trejo was just beginning his cult following, and fun was to be had.

Now, in 2014, Netflix has just come out with a TV series version of the movie (Originally on the El Rey network.). Nothing new there; TV shows have been adapted from movies since TV first began. But it's the style of adaptation that has changed. Dusk Till Dawn: The Series has that same quality one gets from Sherlock -- it's a show lovingly made by fan-minded sorts who both capture the feel of the original and expand its universe to explore areas that were barely touched on in the original. Basically, such shows are doing what we used to call Sherlockian scholarship, just with video: Expanding and exploring the world we were given, with respect and admiration for the original.

Interestingly, in this expansion/exploration, the criminal Gecko brothers seem curiously like someone split Sherlock Holmes into two people. There's the ultra-cool, charming side as epitomized in Seth Gecko, and the nerdy, smart, seeing-things-others-can't-see, "is he crazy?" side of Sherlock that is embodied in Richie Gecko. There's no stretch of imagination that would believe the bank robbing brothers could have possibly be inspired by Sherlock, but looking at their dynamic can be an enlightening look at Sherlock Holmes.

In the case of the Gecko brothers, their "Watson" is a whole family, the Fullers, whom they take hostage and eventually must ally with. The Fullers, despite their little family dramas, are the regular folk, while the Geckos are definitely anything but. They're at the height of their profession, if one counts the most wanted lists. One likes to play with a hair-trigger revolver and can seem to read people's thoughts. The other is a commanding presence who naturally takes control of a situation.

As we're used to seeing a Holmes-Watson duality, getting two characters who make one think of the dualities within Holmes himself, such as the eccentric recluse versus the fellow who walks into a situation and deals with those on scene accordingly.

Are there parallels, or does the Sherlockian mind just see Sherlock Holmes in everything? Maybe we're still kind of rare and special after all.

Summer of Sherlock: The Retired Colourman

When one reads the original Sherlock Holmes cases on the dates they started, late summer takes a definite turn.

Earlier, in June and July, we say Holmes and Watson relaxing, hanging out with friends, even while solving cases. In August, however, the caseload slows a bit, and they encounter Josiah Amberly. And while Charles Augustus Magnu . . . er, Milverton might be the most memorably repulsive villain of the Canon, Josiah Amberly is memorably repulsive as a client from the start. It's almost like Holmes and Watson are in a bad mood because summer is almost over.

"What did you think of him?"

"A pathetic, futile, broken creature." (This is Watson talking. Watson! Sweet, kindly Watson!)

"Exactly, Watson. Pathetic and futile. But is not all life pathetic and futile?"

Okay, Mr. Sunshine Holmes . . . hope somebody locked up the cocaine. Holmes doesn't like his client, doesn't seem to think Scotland Yard respects him in sending him this loser, and is actually winding up the case of "the two Coptic Patriarchs," which certainly doesn't seem to be bringing him any joy. (Or at least not enough that he feels like sharing it with Watson or involving him.) So what's up at Baker Street?

Well, according to my dating of this case, it took place on August 20, 1898. And if you look back at "The Dancing Men," which took place in late July of that year, you'll find that the tragedy of Riding Thorpe Manor occurred less than ten days before . . . one of those rare, but important cases where Sherlock Holmes did not decipher a hidden message until it was too late. ("The Five Orange Pips" being another of note.) And of that event, Watson would write:

"Would that I had some brighter ending to communicate to my readers, but these are the chronicles of fact, and I must follow to their dark crisis the strange chain of events which for some days made Ridling Thorpe Manor a household word through the length and breadth of England."

And Josiah Amberley comes Holmes's way right in the middle of those "some days" of which Watson wrote. Now we get to the really weird part.

Josiah Amberley seems to be a fan of Sherlock Holmes. "So famous a man as Sherlock Holmes," Amberly says, and later, "of course, it is all art for art's sake with him."

And Sherlock Holmes did say "It is Art for Art's sake, Watson!" in "The Adventure of the Red Circle" . . . which was published in March and April of 1911, over twelve years after Josiah Amberly and Dr. Watson have that conversation. To be fair, Holmes also mentions "art's sake" in Black Peter, which saw print in 1904, but the same problem applies: How did Amberley know, "it is all art for art's sake with him," when the stories mentioning that aspect had yet to be published?

Consider this fact: At the story's start, Holmes is seriously depressed over that "Dancing Men" business going so horribly south. But in the last line of the tale, we find Holmes with a tolerant smile. He's satisfied with his work on this case. Pleased. Possibly even feeling redeemed.

All because of his fan, Josiah Amberley, who seems to have read parts of the Canon that weren't even published yet.

Now, suppose the Sherlockian Canon originally ended with "The Final Problem." And while Sherlock Holmes survived that case and returned to Baker Street in 1894, he encountered a case so dis-spiriting in 1898 that not only did he give up detection, Dr. Watson didn't bother to write or publish the rest of the Canon. And suppose a fanatical Sherlockian in the future realized that the summer of 1898 was such a key turning point, and really, really, REALLY thought he could change history, go back in time, and give Holmes and Watson a success that would inspire them both to go on, detecting and writing.

And once that time-traveller had done his deed, he could take a little, white nanotech time travel pill and return to his own time. But even his fans will often underestimate Mr. Sherlock Holmes, so that last part didn't exactly work out.

Well, since we live in the timeline where the Canon goes on past "The Final Problem," perhaps thanks to a Sherlockian superfan named Josiah Amberley, it's hard to say if that didn't happen. Time travel is such a messy business. Who knows, we might have not had Adolph Hitler had Amberley not messed with the time stream!

Did Sherlock Holmes eventually puzzle out the time-traveller's true nature? Did Watson save the full write-up of those facts for the last story to be published, only to have the British Government redact all the parts with time travel in them, as they worked to master that science themselves?

Well, if any of you are about to go back in time and set up in a place called "the Haven" to test Sherlock Holmes (and get a little time with a beautiful wife along the way), send me a note before you go . . . except I guess you already did, changed the timeline, and now don't know you did.

Okay, ignore the time travel, and the British Government probably wants us to anyway, and just enjoy the simple tale of Sherlock Holmes succeeding when he could really use a win.