HAVE A LOOK AT THESE SCATTERED OBJECTS

'It is glue, Watson,' said he.

Sherlock Holmes had been bending for a long time over a low-power microscope. Now he straightened himself up and looked round at me in triumph. 'It is glue, Watson,' said he. 'Unquestionably it is glue. Have a look at these scattered objects in the field!' I stooped to the eyepiece and focused for my vision.--"The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place"

The Sound of the Baskervilles had their second in person meeting this past Sunday since pre-pandemic early winter 2020. It was my first in person official Sherlockian meeting since 2020. Other than an out-door picnic last summer, I had not ventured past Zoom for Sherlockian activities. I wondered if I would be comfortable there; the world has changed in many ways in the last three years.  Like the fragments viewed in Holmes's microscope, the SOBs (all Sherlockians, really) are scattered objects in the field of everyday life, objects sometimes held together by the glue of an abiding interest in Sherlock Holmes and, in the case of the SOBs, decades-long kind and dependable group leadership.

The nature of Sherlockian 'glue' has been on my mind lately as I prepare to venture to New York for the upcoming weekend activities. I wonder if I will be comfortable there? I've only gone once before, way back in 2007 or 2008. I knew no one and no one knew me. I went to the Mysterious Bookstore and I went to the first Gaslight Gala. People were kind but I was a stranger in a strange land.  Of course, much has changed in the ensuing years thanks to the proliferation of social media and my willingness to volunteer for things. In the midst of all this thinking, an odd scattered object turned up on Twitter, posted by The London Sherlock Holmes Meetup Group:

I have no idea if this is a factual thing, supposedly it is from the late 1940s. (Hey, its on the internet, it must be true, right?) It seems odd to think someone would go to the trouble to invent it. For the moment, then, I've decided to treat it as real. It is very difficult for me to understand why a group would want a very subjective (and in my mind, ridiculous) qualification test.

The last condition caught my eye, especially the need to spend a certain amount of money in the name of Sherlock Holmes. If spending money is an absolute requirement, I'm lucky to not have found Sherlockiana until my middle age because I certainly could not have afforded to give Sherlock Holmes a dime before then.  Prior to, I would have been a faithful soldier for any group but as one armed only with a library card. The 1948 group might not have been too impressed with me. I might not have been too impressed with them if handed that questionnaire.

One can spend a lot of money on Sherlockian things (true of most hobbies, I think) but I don't see it as absolutely necessary, depending on what route one chooses to take. I'm grateful that I don't need a lot of money to participate on a regular basis in the SOBs, or amongst like-minded friends on the internet. The trip to New York is a treat this year but I'm grateful that I can be a Sherlockian, no matter if I ever go to New York on birthday weekend, or ever pass some arbitrary questionnaire. If that is a true relic of the Sherlockian past, I hope it stays firmly there.

The glue held fast for the SOBs; the meeting was good. It was wonderful to present a silly play and discuss "The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle" for the gazillionth time. Nobody minded it was the gazillionth time.  The meeting had about twenty people which isn't too bad for a football Sunday the week before Christmas. That twenty included two new people, pleasant, knowledgeable, and engaging. One told us a fun story about his great-grandparent's marriage license listing his great-grandfather's occupation as "Commissionaire." The other had a lovely singing voice and an easy laugh. I hope our congenial welcome was strong enough to bring these two back. 

The two already had the sticky base: an abiding interest in Sherlock Holmes, the unifying thing among the random objects. Bob Katz surprised me at the October meeting of The Crew of the Barque Lone Star when he said this is one of his favorite lines from the Canon: '"There is only one man,' he cried.'" Bob is right, of course: there is only one man. The line is even better when coupled with the one that follows it:

  'There is only one man,' he cried.
'Exactly,' said Holmes.

Exactly. All will be well.  See you in New York.

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My compliments of the season to all this post may reach.