“Elementary, my dear Watson!”
Like many people, I am quite a fan of Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman in Sherlock. But theirs is not the first incarnation that I enjoyed. Jeremy Brett was so true to character that, when I re-read a short story about Holmes and Watson, I picture Brett as Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock has this amazing logic and power of deduction, of which I am very jealous. I cannot keep a cool head under pressure like the master consulting detective. I love logic and puzzles, but I am not even remotely on the same level as Sherlock.
Not only can he put a few clues together and figure out the bigger picture, but he can do so while saving a friend. People ask me for recipes and knitted clothing, both of which I love, but I rarely do anything so noble – or exciting – as save a friend in need.
Of course, I don’t have too many friends that go up against evil masterminds regularly.
Sherlock is a classic – he and Watson have stood the test of time. They are well-loved all over the world. To me, this shows the longevity of a character – he must have traits with which we can all identify. (So far, I think the most we have in common is the fact that we both keep a messy apartment with projects and experiments lying strewn about.)
I also happen to love (wait, do I love Sherlock?) Hercule Poirot, Agatha Christie’s little Belgian sleuth with the formidable grey cells. His brain also fascinates me. As does his eccentricities and love for good chocolate.
I know both of these are fictional characters. Most likely, if they were real, I would be a client who lost her puppy and needed help finding the runaway pet. Neither man would take the case because it was all rather mundane. I think I dream of living an exciting life and going to far-off places in search of missing treasures and people. Solving those mysteries and puzzles might overwhelm me at times. But if I could be Watson or Hastings, and just watch the masters at work, I might satiate my fascination.