"To put colour and life into each of your statements..."

 

"You have erred, perhaps," he observed, taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs, and lighting with it the long cherrywood pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood - "you have erred, perhaps, in attempting to put colour and life into each of your statements, instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing."

I sat down at the desk tonight to write about the ending of the Kick starter for Sherlock Holmes Into the Fire. I wanted to talk about how much fun I've had working with the marvelous writers who contributed to the book. Even with my grumbling about the countless rounds of editing, I've had a good experience with this project. I wanted to talk about how grateful I am for the opportunity to celebrate some of the work of Arthur Conan Doyle, the Round the Fire collection, and some marvelous new stories written in homage to that collection. I wanted to talk about how grateful I am for the many people who supported us via the campaign. I know how incredibly lucky I am. I hoped to write something full of  "colour and life."

And while I know I feel all these things, I simply can't find it in myself to touch the joy tonight. I look at the state of our country and the world and my heart is heavy. I think I have to regroup. Perhaps in a few days I'll find my way back to writing about the every day things that are wonderful in my Doyle- and-Holmes-and-Watson-saturated life. 

At the opening of "The Man with the Twisted Lip", Watson writes about how he and his wife attempted to help Kate Whitney in her sadness about her husband, "We soothed and comforted her by such words as we could find." I need some comfort from Watson's words tonight. I'm going to turn off the electronics and read, read, read. Perhaps  "...the footprints of a gigantic hound" will help tonight, or maybe, "...a very seedy and disreputable hard felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several places." 

I'm not sure yet what I will read, but I know that sometimes Watson is the "...the best and the wisest man whom I have ever known." Sherlock Holmes can bugger off with his complaints about Watson's words. I like and need Watson's colour and life and comfort.