A new Game.

Way back in the summer of 2001, noted Sherlockian Chris Redmond said something to me that I couldn't get out of my head.

"Sherlockians need a new Game," he told me (or something very much like that).  I had to agree. Sherlockiana, as a whole, was having a hard time building steam back then. The Jeremy Brett days were long behind us, Sherlockian scholarship just wasn't having the zing it used to (as many of the best questions had been argued to death), and there just wasn't anything new under the sun. The old Grand Game of researching Sherlock Holmes in a historical fashion just wasn't what it once was.

My answer to that, at the time, was an attempt to combine historical re-enactment and the Sherlockian Canon, forming a Canonical characters club called "The Dark Lantern League." It was a lovely idea, but a career turn started taking up my time and, as always, I became a little impatient waiting for it to take off. And, let's be honest, a lot of Sherlockians of 2001 weren't looking for anything new, being content to attend the same dinners and see the same friendly faces for the rest of their days.

But Chris was right, and I knew it. Sherlockians did still need a new Game.

And now, over a decade later, it appears Sherlockians do have a new Game, a realization which occurred to me tonight as I struggled to fold an origami lotus based on a YouTube instructional video.

The video was called "Sherlock - How to make the origami lotus from The Blind Banker." By following it, one could recreate one's own artifact from the BBC Sherlock.

The original Game of Sherlockian scholarship was all about loving Sherlock Holmes so much that we attempted to bring him into the real world through scholarly research, through recreating his sitting room in our homes, through the knowing delusion that we believed in Sherlock Holmes.

Sound familiar?

Sherlockians needed a new Game in 2001, but we also needed something else: new Sherlockians. As much as we all hate to admit it, there comes a time when we get old and jaded with even our favorite things. Many is the lover of Sherlockian pastiche in their younger days who grows to disdain all attempts at it in their gray days. We never love anything the hundredth time around as much as we did that first time -- there's no fighting it.

But along came the BBC Sherlock and Benedict Cumberbatch, and suddenly we hit the jackpot: new Sherlockians and a new Game. Somewhere out there, more than one somebody is, even now, trying to recreate the modern 221B with its cattle skull and headphones. Speculative research is being done like crazy, trying to figure out just how it was Sherlock survived this Reichenbach. And some lovely young lady on YouTube is trying to teach us how to make origami lotuses from "The Blind Banker."

It's a new Game, and they're playing it the same way we played the old one back in the day. Thoughtful analysis, recreations, creativity in both word and art, visiting the sacred sites . . . as much as some "elite devotee" or the other might like to pooh-pooh these new fans, they are us and we are them. Sherlockiana lives on, and I am perfectly delighted with it. Even if you decry, "Yeah, but they'll get bored with Cumberbatch!" (which I kind of wonder about -- he's pretty amazing), where do you think all that cosplay/recreation/analytic energy is going to go then? Probably toward all of the other parts of the Holmes legend, as there is so much to discover. (And I really want to see a black-and-white cosplay Rathbone one day!)

The wisest thing a man ever sang was Jagger's, "You can't always get what you want . . . but if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need."

Sherlockiana got what it needed. A new Game.

Hansoms of John Clayton 2.0

In my library, there is a book published by the Mysterious Press in 1976, entitled The Adventures of Herlock Sholmes by Peter Todd. It contains an introduction by Philip Jose Farmer, one of Peoria's rare bestselling authors, and in it, Phil wrote:

"Recently, I decided to found a scion chapter of the Baker Street Irregulars in my home town, Peoria, Illinois. This is 'The Hansoms of John Clayton' -- a title happily combining my passion for Sherlock Holmes and Lord Greystoke, born as John Clayton, better known as Tarzan. (W.H. Starr of The Sons of the Copper Beeches scion has theorized that the cabbie, John Clayton of The Hound of the Baskervilles, was actually the grandfather of Tarzan.)"

Of course, when Phil Farmer said, "I decided to found a scion chapter," he didn't exactly follow through -- busy writer and all -- so it wasn't until November 17, 1977 when Bob Burr forced the issue and held a meeting at his house, that the group actually got started. Five members showed up: Phil, Bob, George Scheetz, Emily Sutton, aand Alex Ciegler.

In the decades that passed, the group both thrived and dwindled, and eventually Bob himself lost interest in it, which was a hard hurdle to get past for those of us that remained. Every group has a "sparking plug" (or two or three, if you're lucky), and when ours lost his spark, the engine that was the Hansoms eventually just locked up.

Now, it's thirty six years after that original start, and six years since the last recorded gathering of any Sherlockians under that club's banner. Only one of those original Hansoms still walks the Earth, and he's very hard to find. Bob Burr's passing combined with the enthusiasm of a couple of local Holmes fans, however, has made this old Sherlockian cab-horse realize that maybe Peoria's Sherlockian legacy needs to be pulled a bit further into the future. So it is, that the Hansoms of John Clayton are set to meet once more on March 15th. I already know of five people willing to show up, so we're back to square one.

But as I've said, The Hansoms of John Clayton, version 1.0, was Bob's group. It had its rituals and routines, all built in the Sherlockian 1980s, and they served us well. But it's thirty six years later, and, well, we're not just about the sixty stories any more. They are our core, our center, but in considering "The Adventure of the Empty House" for the theme of our first meeting, there is so much more to talk about. Three big name Sherlocks have gone over Reichenbach Falls on stage and screen since then, some with returns yet to be seen. And there's been this weird Sebastian Moran guy who isn't a sniper but exsanguinates people like hunters do deer. We have a lot to talk about. And we're not taking any quizzes this time around (Thank you, Occupants of the Empty House for being our guiding light there!).

We've got a great legacy of Sherlockian fellowship to draw from here in Peoria, but we won't be letting that stop us from being whatever it is to be a Sherlock Holmes society in 2013. And, personally, I'm kind of curious to see what that is myself.

If you're going to be in the area, and would like to see the start of The Hansoms of John Clayton 2.0 for yourself, just drop a line to mailroom@sherlockpeoria.net

And here's a bonus bit I found while digging up a thing or two tonight.

Burr, Brett, Sommerfield

St. Louis, 1991

(Me? I was still waiting for Benedict Cumberbatch!)

Digging out.

The snow has been falling all day here in Sherlock Peoria. Time to roll up the sleeves and start digging my way out of the drifts . . . the drifts of Sherlockiana.

Over the past few years, my Sherlockian library has become quite the uninhabitable place. Stacks of books and papers, miscellaneous trophies from curious adventures, all the odd clutter that one would expect of someone who likes Sherlock Holmes a little too much. Add to that mess the remains of a second Sherlockian's library and related files, and you get something that makes a beloved hobby someone frightening, like it is actually going to bury and smother you at some point, especially when there's a new cat in the house who likes to try to climb the piles.

This year is going to be a year of Sherlockian spring cleaning like no other. And since I hate eBay and don't really like the thought of selling Sherlock, it looks like it's time to play Johnny Watsonseed and spread the Sherlock around. Exactly what and where and to whom has yet to solidify, but I have some ideas. It will be interesting to see how much stuff I can actually get out the door.

I have another excuse for tonight's advent of the spring cleaning season, amidst a snowstorm, but that is coming in another installment of the blog, already leaked on Facebook. And that involves not only a lot of cleaning, but some rebuilding as well. More to come.

Once you have eliminated the impossible . . .

An e-letter came in yesterday from Paul Herbert, a much esteemed Sherlockian who was well-accomplished in our hobby when I was just finding out there were well-accomplished Sherlockians. He was responding to my blog on opening up the annual dinner of the Baker Street Irregulars, and pointing out that I was leaving many questions unanswered:

"Where would you hold it?" he wrote, of my idea for an open invitation. "Attendance would be much larger than it is now. Arrangements would have to made beforehand for a suitable venue and yet how would you know how many would attend if you had no limit. And what kind of program would you offer that would entertain old-timers, neophytes, learned Sherlockians, fringe Sherlockians, and spouses with only a little interest in Holmes?"

Paul is correct, I didn't answer all of those questions. And he's not the first to respond with such questions when I bring up the subject of an open and democratic B.S.I. (Nobody ever seems to question the "democratic" part, for some reason.) They are quite practical questions. And the Baker Street Irregulars is a society and a tradition held so dear by many that they are naturally afraid of anything that might upset the apple cart . . . especially a big, dramatic change like going inclusive, instead of exclusive.

I can understand that. Most people don't have my penchant for walking into the unknown. And let's be honest, one of the reasons that I've never been as enchanted with the B.S.I. dinner as many is that it doesn't take risks, tends to like its own past more than the present, and has all those members that decry whatever the suggested change is. Letting women in. Holding the dinner in a different city now and then. (Hey, what about simultaneous dinners on both sides of the country? We have the technology!) Open invitations.

But you know what, all of the questions Paul raises can be answered. They can be dealt with, and open invitations could happen. Look at everything Michael Whelan has accomplished since taking the reins of the group. Look at what the men who came before him accomplished. Look at any Sherlockian event, any Sherlockian society . . . even those awful amateur pastiches people love to complain about . . . every single accomplishment in the Sherlockian world was made real because so many Sherlockians are hard workers with imagination and some real problem-solving skills.

And what was our beloved inspiration so fond of saying?

"Once you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbably, must be the truth."

Think about that for a second. Once you have eliminated the impossible. An open B.S.I. is not impossible. It therefore cannot be eliminated. It therefore, could, however improbably, become the truth.

Paul's letter came at the perfect moment for me, having just finished the weekend of my little dinner theater and its two shows. A cast of nearly thirty. Dance numbers. Doing the catering ourselves. A lot of people leaving their comfort zones to do things they never saw themselves doing, maybe even thought impossible. And none of it would have been possible without getting people willing to step outside the status quo.

The B.S.I. will do what its leaders want. I'm just a member who doesn't come to many meetings, who has an opinion, and I know I'm not the target demographic. But let's never put limits on ourselves as Sherlockians. Let's eliminate the impossible so we can see that's what is left is possible, however improbable. 

Oh, and thanks to all those new Sherlockians out there who are already showing us new vistas of the possible, every single day. You're making this aging Sherlockian very proud of our fandom.

Yeah . . . Sir Boast-a-lot still rules.

This week's Elementary opened with Mr. Elementary trying to teach Joan Watson how to be a consulting whatever-he-is. The deductions were less that impressive, lacking that certain snap of a true Sherlock Holmes . . . I think I've seen Jeff Goldblum do better in non-Sherlock parts. (The "Grover's Mill" speech in Buckaroo Banzai is just one of many great Sherlock-ish deductive moments Goldblum has pulled off.) Soon, there was a reference to a Musgrave, more single-stick (He's teaching Watson through having her beat a dummy about the head? I really don't get Mr. Elementary's version of this martial art.), and a client turned down.

Yes, the Holmes tags are being added, but the basics of Holmes and Watson just aren't there. Mr. Elementary lacks the command, the sophistication, the almost other-worldly quality the best Sherlocks possess. There's a reason Benedict Cumberbatch is playing the villain in that upcoming Star Trek movie: he has those qualities that made Rathbone great.

This Mr. Elementary guy . . . throwing yelling fits, twitching like he's got to pee because he's chilly . . . he's a little boy. I have yet to be convinced that Watson admires or looks up to him. He has hired her to be his assistant and he's paying her to be his apprentice. Some idiotic website called "After Elton" actually ranked the relationship between Mr. Elementary and Joanie Watson to be superior to that of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson of BBC Sherlock. Watching Martin Freeman do his Watson act, I've always known his feelings and sympathized with him. He's a friend first, the basic role of a Watson. Joanie Watson might as well be an office drone in cubicle city, dragging herself around behind this little boy pretending to be a genius detective. I suspect "After Elton" equates "totally different" with "innovative and good," without considering that something that's worked solidly for a hundred and twenty-some years might actually be a the actual key to the characters.

I miss Freeman's Watson. I miss that crazy-ass Moriarty. I miss kinky and so-very-alive Irene Adler. I miss the real Sherlock Holmes. And watching week after week of Jonny Lee Miller missing the mark, it's starting to feel like Benedict Cumberbatch is that real Sherlock Holmes. And a real Sherlock Holmes that lives in the modern day, with his friend Dr. Watson, living in a London that has a ferris wheel and a Mrs. Hudson.

So I went out and made a pledge to the Sir Boast-a-lot fanbook on Kickstarter. It's well over its goal, and it should be a beautiful piece of work. That silly "After Elton" website claimed, after rating all the elements of the two, that BBC Sherlock and CBS Elementary were equals. Well, until Elementary starts inspiring lovely pieces of work like Sir Boast-a-lot, I think the evidence remains in favor of Sherlock's complete superiority.

That other guy? Well, he's Mr. Elementary. Still.

Equality! Freedom! And the one barrier left!

This from the website of The Baker Street Journal:

"We deplore and condemn the idea that proper appreciation of the stories of Sherlock Holmes should be limited to a small, elite fandom.  Sherlock Holmes belongs to the world, and we applaud all who share the devotion of The Baker Street Irregulars to the memory of the Master Detective, regardless of age, sex or the medium in which they express their views."

This from free-sherlock.com :

"The characters of Holmes, Watson, and others are fully established in those fifty ‘public-domain’ stories. Under U.S. law, this should mean that anyone is free to create new stories about Holmes and Watson."

And now this from Sherlock Peoria:

"We welcome change and openness; for we believe that freedom and security go together, that the advance of human liberty can only strengthen the cause of Sherlockiana. There is one sign the B.S.I. can make that would be unmistakable, that would advance dramatically the cause of freedom and acceptance. General Secretary Wiggins, if you seek peace, if you seek prosperity for the Baker Street Irregulars and eastern Sherlockiana, if you seek liberalization, let all come to the B.S.I. Dinner. Mr. Wiggins, open the Dinner. Mr. Wiggins, Mr. Wiggins, tear up that invitation list!"

Hey, it worked for Reagan . . .

And there were probably some people in Berlin who freaked out at the time Reagan made his "Tear down this wall" speech, the way a few do whenever I bring up the idea of an open and democratic Baker Street Irregulars. But even a wild radical like myself has to recognize one inherent problem in a B.S.I. with no invitation list, a problem which I'm sure is why the society kept itself male-only for so many years, and that's this:

The spouses.

We are a bookish people, we Sherlockians, and I suppose more than a few of us meekly reply, "Yes, dear . . ." and turn back to our Holmes tales upon occasion. My theories on the original "male only" B.S.I. rule always came back to the idea that somebody couldn't get out the door for an evening out with the guys without bringing their domineering better half, and depended upon the club's rules to keep their wife in check.

Now that the B.S.I. dinner is open to both genders, that logic still holds, and the thing that would cause the greatest rise in the dinner's attendance with a completely open invitation list would definitely be those who either wanted (or were forced to) bring their beloved significant other of whatever gender.

Will spouses one day be the final barrier left between us and a free and open B.S.I.? 

Don't look at me, I'm just a guy who has to fill blog posts . . . wait . . . what's that dear? Excuse me, folks . . . .

A Babe inspires a slightly embarrassing urge.

There are certain little impulses every Sherlockian has, but few of us like to talk about.

Living in the brilliant glow of Conan Doyle's incredible creation, that beautiful literary Frankenstein of lifeless words energized into a living, breathing superman, we can't help but dare to think, in our most private moments, "Could I possibly do such a thing?"

And as we love Sherlock Holmes so much, we don't just want to create our own legendary figure. We want to summon our own version of the genie.

Any rational person knows that trying to match Conan Doyle at that is purely insane, but still, that impulse rises in us, born of love, vision, and that eternal question, "What if . . . ?" Common sense, reading the attempts of those who have attempted that sort of flight and crashed horribly, and our own fears all work against us, and with so many mainstream Sherlockians, that urge to summon the genie has been beaten down. The mere thought of daring to try such a thing . . . one shudders.

And some of us elder Sherlockians do have skeletons in our closet. Collectors of obscure Sherlockiana might have copies of my serially-published novelette HOLMES! tucked away on a shelf. Back in the very early 1980s, not many of the Sherlockian collectors who picked it up probably realized that the villain was based on Wolverine from X-men comics. Luckily, there aren't more than a hundred copies out there floating around, so my secret is fairly safe.

Since then, I've written a vampire novel, two modern day mystery novels, but no more Holmes . . . there was an attempt I always wanted to get back to, but it always seemed  . . . foolish? A waste of time? I'm not sure. It's not like the other books ever got past my own quality-control judgments and saw print.

But then I was listening to Amy Thomas on the Baker Street Babes podcast today, talking about her own process for writing her Holmes novel, The Detective, The Woman and The Winking Tree. While she was on the podcast, obviously, to promote the buying of her book, she actually sold me on something else. As she spoke about what went through her head in working up the book, I found my own brain heading into familiar patterns of a tale that has been held inside for years now. And I found that I missed my own little attempt to summon the genie.

Is it silly to attempt to walk anywhere close to Conan Doyle's path? Obviously, Les Klinger doesn't think so, believing in it enough to go up against the Doyle estate in court. Sure, Les deals with writers much more talented than myself, but his efforts seem to be the clarion call of a new day for Sherlock Holmes. More writers writing Sherlock mean more failed attempts, sure, but they also mean more successes. And what did Sherlock Holmes say was the motto of the firm? "We can but try."

So I wound up buying Amy Thomas's book, The Detective, The Woman and The Winking Tree, on Amazon. I feel like I owe her that much, just for the inspiring interview. And after reading a certain pastiche I'll talk about another time, which came free in the mail, I really need to read something a bit better . . . which I think Amy's book might definitely be.