Only true, series 2 watching. fellow Sherlockians will get that title. That’s okay. (And when I say “that’s okay” I’m really saying “going and watch Series 1 and as much of Series 2 of BBC’s Sherlock as is available to you in your region).
Per my last post, I’m sure anyone, even Watson, could tell I’m more than a little “sad” to have left Europe. But there are still all these thoughts swimming around in my head…much like Sherlock’s. “A rocket trapped on a lunch pad” he once used to describe his mind. And so are my thoughts.
Tomorrow, in England, is the series 2 finale of Sherlock. The show that, since mid-November, has captured my entire mind. And it all comes to an end tomorrow. (It’s the Reichenbach Fall or in Doyle canon, the Final Problem, where Holmes and Moriarty fall off the cliff to their deaths…until Doyle resurrects Holmes several years later). No matter what happens, Sherlock lives or dies, it’s all ending for the year. It took a solid 1.5 years between the release of Series 1 and Series 2 (which just started on New Year’s day 2012)…I can’t wait another 1.5 years for Series 3! This is as bad as me having to wait for Mad Men to return!
But all this deducing reminded me of a time I was on my way home from a solo trip to the ocean at Formby….
I was on the train that had just connected from Formby to Sandhills and then from Sandhills to Ormskirk…the train to Ormskirk was PACKED. Which had basically never happened in all the time I’d been at EHU. You could always find a seat, even if it was one seat in the midst of three friends. There was always a place to rest your weary legs. Alas! Not tonight! (Which was unfortunate because I’d been walking all afternoon after having gotten lost and my legs were quite done in). So here I am, standing in the door/bike area by a couple of blokes reading the paper…pretending to mess about on my mobile (because that’s what one does when in solo, awkward situations) and as we moved from station to station the gents one by one grabbed open seats until I was the only sod left standing…and then I sat down (in those fold-down “extra” seats that you’re not supposed to sit in when the train is packed so more people can fit standing).
For some reason, my mind launched into Sherlock mode. I started looking at people from the corner of my eye…trying to guess things about them. The bloke next to me had a folder…a hole in his shoe…a suit that looked like the shades didn’t match but he was trying to make them match…Wearing a suit says businessman…hole in the shoe? Work related? Factory? But it looked like it had been there a while…so either too cheap to replace his shoes or knowing that said incident might happen again and it wasn’t worth it. Most people when on a train alone read, sleep, or mess about on their phones. This fellow had neither a phone nor a paper. Couldn’t afford either?
On and on my thoughts went…until I saw him turn over his folder. My mind instantly stopped and I felt like the biggest jerk in the world. It was a “getting back to work once you’ve lost your job” unemployment agency-like folder. Here I’d guessed all these mean (but correct) things about him and it made me kind of sad.It’s exhilarating at first, trying to guess things about people, ya know? Something to pass the time and keep your mind sharp…
The mind is a powerful and dangerous thing, is the lesson I learned. The “science of deduction” really is there…we can all be Sherlock’s…but at what cost?
I’ll leave the deducing to my favourite Sherlock of them all, Benny. I might not make it out of my bed past tomorrow night anyway, for having sobbed too much at Sherly’s passing (if that’s the case). We’ll see…
