221Bcon versus The Holmes & Watson Report.

At the end of 2004, I realized that I was done with producing print. The internet made it just too easy to distribute to more eyes than printers-and-post-office with so much less work. Yes, there is a certain loss of focus when you compare the experience of a print journal to what you'll find on a web site or blog. And not everybody wants to go digital just yet. But for me, the time to move on had come.

The thing is, sometimes, even after you've moved on, you find you're still dragging some residue from that earlier time. Many, many pounds of residue, at that.

For me, that was about twenty or so copies of six or seven of the later issues of The Holmes & Watson Report. Doesn't sound like that much, but it fills a banker's box. And among my goals for the 221Bcon weekend in Atlanta? 

Making that box disappear.

Somebody at the con has to have never seen this thing before, and some of those somebodies might enjoy a free copy or copies of a defunct journal. If nothing else they can hunt up a few of the regular writers from The Holmes & Watson Report and get articles signed to raise the value. 

We shall see. The road to 221Bcon continues.

A hotel with more than a mini-bar? Could be.

Introducing the Sherlockian mini-library, coming soon to Atlanta.

As the rapidly approaching 221Bcon is looking like a fine opportunity to take a little pressure off of our overcrowded house, I started sorting out what might make good giveaways, dispersables, etc. for appropriate moments, whatever they might be. And then that small set of shelves I could never find a place for came into my line of sight. Good, solid, old-fashioned wood shelves, two feet wide by three feet wide. And I started to wonder: Could I stock those shelves with an appropriate sampling of books to provide a decent Sherlock Holmes mini-library to one of our newer passengers on the great hansom cab of Sherlockiana?

I'd need a good edition of the complete Canon, of course. Some apocrypha. Some reference books. Some Sherlockian scholarship. A sampling of journals. And an array of classic hardcover pastiches. (Every bottom shelf should have pastiches. They provide a foundation that says "Sherlock Holmes" and can sacrifice themselves to rising floodwaters to save rarer tomes.)

So I built the above. It still has a few gaps to fill, but that's entirely do-able. The thing of it is, through what mechanism might I find a willing winner for such a prize? The arrived-by-air attendees are kind of out of luck, being limited by carry-on restrictions. (They might like some of the things that didn't fit on those shelves that I'll be bringing along, though.) Elder attendees are liable to have most of it already. So how does one properly give away a Sherlock Holmes mini-library?

Any great ideas out there besides, "Just give it to me!"? (Which might not be entirely ruled out -- like I said, the house is way too crowded.)

Miss Hudson arrives.

I missed watching Elementary live this week, and I'm a bit glad I did. Watching it "on demand" gave me a little more time to savor it and appreciate a minor miracle taking place. This week's episode was actually tolerable TV. In fact, I would have to call it the best episode the series has produced to date. Why?

Well, even though a blizzard episode in April is not the most timely thing, the mass of snow gave New York a coating of clean, kept the characters close together, and brought some nice visuals to the thing all around. No silly serial killer or murder mystery nonsense. And there were continuity bits. Clyde was back.

And then there was Miss Hudson, who came to clean up. Not Mrs. Hudson, nor landlady Hudson, as that would apparently risk a Sherlock lawsuit as most classic Holmes details would. Miss Hudson was a completely charming lady, a "muse" by profession, giving her a bit of the modern Irene's cachet, and in taking up a job as housekeeper (Mr. Elementary needs a cash transaction in his relationships, it seems.), seems to have been built exactly the opposite of any Mrs. Hudson we've ever known.

Miss Hudson seems to have an organizational mind completely to Mr. Elementary's liking, and isn't nearly the lovable irritant that comes with the flat, as she usually is to the usual fellow named Sherlock Holmes. In fact, she's just adorable. Combine that with Lucy Liu's own charms getting played up in a well-directed episode where Mr. Elementary is finally letting her accompany him and behave as a proper Watson. (In the nineteenth episode. Are we trying to evolve life forms here?)

Elementary's biggest problem, however, continues to be Mr. Elementary. He might have even grown on me a little bit this episode, but is he Sherlock Holmes? No way in Hell.

In a movie version of this show, Jason Statham would play Mr. Elementary, though he might have to get prosthetic forearms to make them Wolverine-level hairy. Jonny Lee Miller's character remains a yattering, bouncy ragamuffin who seems to be consciously avoiding the quiet cool of classic Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock Holmes was many things to many people, but he was never a man-child, which seems an intrinsic part of Mr. Elementary's character. And as Mr. Elementary becomes more and more fully realized as a character on this show, such stark differences between him and the real deal become forever two different brands of detective. (Detective Bell, looking cool enough to be from the Matrix at one point this week, should give him wardrobe pointers, just the same.)

I hope the show continues upon the path begun with Miss Hudson's arrival, as I'm going to be watching it anyway -- it might as well be somewhat enjoyable. But Elementary has offered moments of hope before, only to backslide into its formula procedural silliness. Who knows, though, it might continue to improve and someday be an Emmy-level entertainment. In any case, an episode in which Mr. Elementary's past as a Baker Street Irregular to the real Holmes is revealed would still make the whole affair much more palatable, as well as keeping the marketable connection.

We shall see.

Mr. Elementary's bookshelf contains You Can Learn Telepathy by Morton Zuckerman, by the way. Make of it what you will.

Elementary! Elementary! Elementary! I can't make bricks.

"Elementary, my dear professor! Ele . . . mentary! El . . . eh . . . men . . . tah . . . ree . . . ."

No, that's not a line from the worst adaptation of "The Final Problem" ever.  What it is is part of a bit of a detective-ish ramble from a little theatrical production I was involved in back in February, where one of the actors was fishing a bit for a line and used the single word to buy time. The scene came back to me tonight, while watching the video at a belated cast party, and gave me new reason to consider that word of questionable repute.

We all know the bit of trivia that Sherlock Holmes never actually said, "Elementary, my dear Watson." He calls things "elementary" a few times, and in "The Adventure of the Crooked Man," we find:

"Elementary," said he.

But "my dear Watson," which can be found elsewhere in the original stores, is never attached. There's even a Snopes article on the myth of "Elementary, my dear Watson," which like "Beam me up, Scotty!" from a certain other fandom, entered the popular culture without a direct usage in the Canon it celebrates.

"Elementary" is just one of those words that's perfect for a man like Sherlock Holmes. It's got five syllables of big-word clout, but practically everyone knows what it means. It's used for conveying the simplicity of a seemingly complex problem, and just saying it slowly sounds like you're pondering something.

Adding "my dear Watson" to it adds a certain patronizing tone, which makes it all the more interesting that Sherlock Holmes never really used it that way in the original text. Sure, movies like to use it quite a bit, but movies gave us Boobus Britannicus, as Nigel Bruce's Watson has been called, and I'd wager that any time you hear someone talking about how mean Sherlock Holmes is to Dr. Watson, they're almost always speaking of some screen interpretation. So does our culture take for granted that Sherlock Holmes is a little bit patronizing, a little bit mean?

Well, our culture isn't decided by the Sherlock Holmeses of the world, I'm sad to say.

The Merriam-Webster definition of elementary is "of, relating to, or dealing with the simplest elements or principles of something." Which means, if you call something "elementary," you find it pretty simple, which is why Sherlock Holmes used it. If you looked over a problem and just went, "Pretty simple!" it would serve the same purpose, and "pretty simple" means no big deal . . . unless of course that thing isn't simple to you at all.

"Elementary," and one's view of it, may always be a kind of line of demarcation between the haves and the have-nots of mental prowess. Or I might just be using it like that actor I mentioned earlier, to stretch out some time when I'm trying to think of something to say . . . .

(Trivia for the day, who said "My dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes"?  Hint: There were three of them, one rather cute.)

Now he's creepy!

I'd feel worse for Dr. Watson if he didn't always make me laugh.

Sure, we've all heard folks who don't really get the Holmes-Watson dynamic complain about how badly Sherlock Holmes treats poor John H. Watson over the years. But did Sherlock Holmes ever treat Watson worse than the rest of the world?

It wasn't Sherlock Holmes who cast Nigel Bruce as Watson, and decided he should be shown as a cookie-loving doofus. It wasn't Sherlock Holmes who decided he needed other biographers and dumped him repeatedly for Teddy Roosevelt, Irene Adler, Mary Russell, Doc Holliday, any Irregular kid you'd care to name, and so many others. And it wasn't Sherlock Holmes who made Watson creepy.

Creepy Watson, the result of some less-than-stellar programming in a Sherlock Holmes video game has not only picked up some hits on YouTube, he's apparently now promoting a new video game as well, by being just as creepy once again. He doesn't walk. He doesn't move a muscle. He's just there, standing next to you. Turn away, he's gone. Turn again. He's closer than ever.

Creepy Watson now stands next to Doofus Watson, Drunken Watson (an old Peoria favorite), George Costanza Watson (the Private Life version), Cyborg Watson, Transgender Watson (well, if he used to be male, and now he's female . . .), Unrequited Love Watson, STD Watson, James Watson, Dead Watson, Whole Other Watson, Regenerated Gallifreyan Watson (yes, Burke/Hardwick), et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, in the great Hall of Watsons that surely will come to exist one day.

It's really amazing how flexible Watson is. I've always thought it do to his "everyman" quality -- he's a stand-in for all of us in the stories, he's just so relatable -- he literally has the ability to be every man (in the species sense of the word), it would seem. And he's also like an old friend that we're so comfortable with that we have no problem dressing him up in whatever costume we feel like at the moment. We know he's good old Watson. He won't complain, and he'll bounce right back to being Watson.

Even Creepy Watson has a limit on how creepy he is, for those of use who've known him for years. Tweens on YouTube may jump back and squeal, but seeing the old chap pop up at one's side just brings a smile.

Good old Watson.

April 2 . . . almost.

The day of the fool is done.  Well, not quite.

Writing yesterday's blog came at some small cost. A few thoughts had to be suppressed. Comments had to be edited out. And while I consider myself a man of some willpower when the task demands it, I have to admit that no amount of resolve could have quelled all the things that came up as I worked on praising Elementary yesterday. And so, for those of you who would know what didn't get said, here are the random jottings expelled from creating my first April Fool's Day blog.

WARNING: The following is intended for mature adults who are not fans of CBS's Elementary. Anyone who does not match that description should do themselves a favor and go somewhere else, like that Deductionist site. Here's a link to help you  get there ASAP. Seriously. Go now. You're not? Well, don't say I didn't warn you.

And now, on with the show.

• Was Elementary created to be like Sherlock Holmes? No, it was created to NOT be like Sherlock. Sherlock was created to be like Sherlock Holmes. Think about it.
• He's just such a cute little Jonnylock, like you could stick him in your pocket and take him down to the stream to scrub him up like a filthy little leprechaun or one of those Cottingsley fairies after they got into the garbage as they were wont to do.
• Seriously, does it bug anyone else that they named one detective from the Canon (Gregson) and one from Doyle's biography (Bell)? That is just kick-you-out-of-the-reality messed up. They were already using the names Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, which were both in Sherlock, would it have killed them to use Gregson and Lestrade?
• Has any pastiche used as much defecatory material outside of O Xango de Baker Street? (Which I still enjoy better than Elementary, and it featured Sherlock Holmes with diarrhea.)
• The waste of Lucy Liu still appalls me. She has been given so much better work to do, almost everywhere else she's been. Watching her in Elementary is like watching any actor you'd care to name in that second Star Wars trilogy. George Lucas took some of the liveliest folks on the silver screen and made them ho-hum, even with light sabers. But at least they had light sabers. Poor Lucy got a stick.
• He's a deductionist. Seriously. Like there's deductionism.
• I worry about people who say how much they love the relationship between Mr. Elementary and Joan Watson.  Either they were raised without human contact, or someone is abusing them horribly, because that is not any kind of relationship as I know humans. 
• Conan Doyle once said to William Gillette of Holmes: "You may marry him, murder him, or do anything you like to him." That was a.) specifically to William Gillette and no one else, and b.) in the 1800s, before anyone, even a science fiction writer like Doyle, could have foreseen what horrors the future and a thing called television could hold for Holmes. And Conan Doyle definitely didn't mean this . . . no, definitely not this . . . anything but this . . .
• If they changed all the characters names in Elementary, I think I could safely quit watching it and forget all about it. Until then, it's like they're holding the good name of Sherlock Holmes hostage, and hostage crises are riveting television.

There. That's better. Karma is balanced.

Oh, wait, it's a whole twenty minutes until April 2 . . .

April Fool! Hee hee, I was just kidding all along.

The light seen! It was Elementary all along!

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, they say. And it's true. Weeks have passed since CBS last televised a new episode of Elementary, even taking away reruns last week for some sporting event of minor importance. And without that reliable Thursday night jolt that I've grown so accustomed to, where did my heart pine to be this week?

A certain Brooklyn Heights brownstone, of course, where one Joan Watson gets paid . . . paid you understand . . . to spend time learning from the world's finest deductionist, a master of his field, a man these pages have oft referred to as "Mr. Elementary." Perhaps it was, earlier, used as a placeholder for a character I resisted calling "Sherlock Holmes" as CBS had, but really . . . what honorific could be more fitting to the next evolutionary step of Sherlock Holmes, a character boldly taken out of an old English urban folk tale and elevated it to modern American relevance?

It's just so . . . Elementary. To call him "Sherlock Holmes" would be like calling you or I "neanderthal." A bit of an insult, really. So "Mr. Elementary," he will remain here, just as his Watson remains a "Joan," stepping up from that hanger-on John of the past. But that's all that stays the same.

I admit it: I pre-judged Elementary last summer before ever seeing an episode, and when it came out, well, I didn't even watch the first six episodes and just blogged based on what I read on the web. And then, when I finally did watch a whole episode, I still just could not bring myself to admit that here was possibly a true American counterpart to BBC's sets of Sherlock movies.

And then, a single comment from a single reader of this blog put it all into perspective. I'm sure you may remember the comment, it was pretty hard to miss. The insight probably touched you as well.

Suddenly, the entire history of this country and its breakaway from the British motherland made sense . . . our fore-fathers didn't just fight to escape their present taxation, but to be a separate, better country, where we could take the old things of England, improve them, and make them our own. I mean, where would James Bond be without Hollywood, U.S.A.? He's the most American movie hero of the last fifty years! It may be hard to get King Arthur and Robin Hood to America, as it didn't exist as America proper back then, but . . . well, let's get back to Mr. Elementary, the star of our consulting deductionist firmament.

In the weeks ahead, you'll be seeing a new side of Sherlock Peoria. Or should I say "Elementary Peoria," which the blog will be changing its name to just as soon as I figure out all of this Blogger buttons and switches to do so. And then the fun really begins as we delve into a myriad of in-depth topics revolving around Mr. Elementary and Joan:

The professions Mr. Elementary loves to insult. The friends Joan has when she's not on the job. The furnishings to recreate Mr. Elementary's lifestyle. Gregson and Bell, the combo of Scotland Yard and Doyle's med school teacher. The ex-lovers of the team, including one-nighters. The clever t-shirt references. Speculation on just how much Joan is getting paid to study deductionism. Mr. Elementary's bathroom and what its contents reveal about his transition to American life.

So much material to cover! Will there be room to start speculating on how soon Elementary's ratings popularity will catapult it to the big screen to compete with Robert Downey Jr.? You bet there will be, I can write two or three of these blogs a night, if need be!

Somebody just needs to point me in the direction of ElementaryCon 2013 -- I've got my cosplay outfit already started, and -- SPOILER ALERT -- it's Father Holmes! The pictures that have sprung up on the web of that character are making him the must-be for upcoming Elementary meet-ups. So much to do, but in the meantime . . . .

Can't wait for Thursday!

Yours truly,
Mr. Elementary Peoria