My friend's temper had not improved since he had been deprived of the congenial surroundings of Baker Street. Without his scrap-books, his chemicals, and his homely untidiness, he was an uncomfortable man. -- Dr. John Watson about Sherlock Holmes, "The Adventure of the Three Students."
Ah, yes: the congenial surroundings of Baker Street, the nice suite at 221B. Watson dates his statement above as 1895 so he and Holmes had been friends and companions for about fourteen years at that point. I wonder when 221B Baker Street stopped being just agreeable rooms and became home. Because, really, that is the gist of Watson's statement: Holmes is uncomfortable because he is not at home. I'm sure Watson's companionship made the temporary lodgings in the great University town more agreeable than they might have been otherwise but still Holmes was not in Baker Street where he obviously preferred to be.
It is interesting to me that North American English most often uses
"homely" to mean unattractive in appearance, but, in British use, it most
often refers to the cozy, the comfortable, and the unpretentious. I like to think 221B was cozy, comfortable and unpretentious after more than a decade of housing Sherlock Holmes, at times with and at times without Dr. Watson.
While Watson was writing of Sherlock Holmes's actual rooms, I can certainly relate to the sentiment because my own version of the
"congenial surroundings of Baker Street" is very important to my comfort,
happiness and temperament. My version is mostly made of books about 221B Baker Street,
its inhabitants, and the Literary Agent serving their interests. I do not feel at home anywhere but here, among these many books and papers.
Holmes liked his "homely untidiness" and I like my homely books. And while I'm fortunate to own a few books some consider to be less common and a little more expensive-ish than many others, the ones which mean the most to me are run of the
mill, probably in the homes of many, many people. It hardly matters how ordinary they may be; all that matters to me is that in their company is where my spirit feels the most comfortable, and has for almost twenty years.
Like all things, I know this comfort will pass. I don't know when but in the meanwhile, I intend to cherish it and these congenial surroundings. I know whatever is next will have its own comforts, too, although I can't imagine yet what they will be. After all, Sherlock Holmes eventually left the congenial surroundings of Baker Street and found a new life in his lonely house in Sussex. I always note: he writes the house is lonely; he does not say he is lonely. I think that perhaps his congenial surroundings of Baker Street taught him how to recreate the feeling elsewhere. Maybe he can show me the way when my change comes.