Ode to Sherlock...and my Admittance to the Sherlockian School of Deduction

 There are those of you who may know me well enough to understand the delicate situation of the incredible maddening passion I undergo when it comes to my love of Sherlock Holmes. I thank my nine year old self for that.
 It all began when I was bored one day (as many of us nine year old selves would often find ourselves in) so I decided to hop over to the library near my house to see what sort of new releases they had in store in the children's section. Rather than take my pick on one of the Beatrix Potter stories,  my overwhelming curiosity let me to the adult fiction section. The shelves were much taller and the books seem so grand, so thick, and so different compared to the stuff they had for us kids. I wanted to touch all of their spines, to open each one of them and just...read. 
As I was absent-mindedly walking along the rows of shelves, one title stood out and I paused,
 The spine read: "The Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes" by Arthur Conan Doyle. 
Right there and then, I had the overwhelming urge to take a few deep breaths ( I got easily excitable at the prospect of a great read. Times haven't changed.),  pull the book out of its cozy place, bring it with me to the nearest armchair, open it, and be amazed by what was in store. Which is exactly what I did. 

Since then, Sherlock Holmes has been my hero in every sense of the word. I'd like to think that this sort of admiration has blend into my lifestyle in some way or another. I have listened and loved all the scores made for Sherlock Holmes, not to mention watched everything that was adapted to television and film, read every story and read other books regarding Sherlock and/or the author. In short: have anything Sherlock? Will read/listen/watch/research.  One might say that I am a Sherlockian in its truest extent.

Furthermore, I knew that one way or another, us Sherlockians would be in for quite a big surprise. And a big surprise it was, when on a trip to the mailbox early this morning, I was greeted by a mysterious black envelope sealed with a gold crest which I then immediately tore it open on the spot, read it, ran back home going:  "Oh my god, oh my god, it's really happening, I KNEW it!!"- booked a ticket to London, and began to pack.

Once you've read this, you would understand my irrepressible urge to skip down the sidewalk, whopping with excitement, and hugging random strangers throughout the entire time:

SHERLOCKIAN SCHOOL OF DEDUCTION. 

Headmaster: 

Sherlock M. Holmes

(Consulting Detective, self-declared High Functioning Sociopath, Genius.)

Dear Sherlockian,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Sherlockian School of Deduction. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on November 1. We await your owl by no later than October 31.

Yours sincerely,

John H. Watson,

Deputy Headmaster. 

________________________________

SHERLOCKIAN SCHOOL OF DEDUCTION 

Uniform

First-year students will require:

1. Seven sets of woolly jumpers (preferably cable-knit)
2. One plain scarf (navy blue) for day wear.
3. One Milford coat (black)
4. One umbrella (black, wooden handle; family sized)
5. Two Westwood suits (black)
6. One lab coat (white)
7. One forensics sterilized suit (blue)
8. One “bobby” uniform (reflectant vest, checkered hat)

Please note that all pupil’s clothes should carry name tags.

Set Books

All students should have a copy of each of the following

• The Stories of Sherlock Holmes by Arthur Conan Doyle
• The Science of Deduction by Sherlock Holmes
• Notions in Army Medicine by John Watson
• The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout (Also known as DI Lestrade’s writing alias)
• How to Run a Country While on a Diet by Mycroft Holmes
• Dealing with the Jerk you Love by Sally Donovan and Molly Hooper
• Psycopaths: The rules to spot and/or become one by Jim Moriarty and F. Anderson

Other Equipment

• 1 British Army Browning L9A1
• 1 Pocket spyglass
• 1 lab kit (vials of various sizes, chemicals capable of causing explosions combined)
• Jam and Milk supplies for the rest of the Year

Students may also bring a cat OR a fox OR a hegehog OR a bee OR a dinosaur OR a hammerhead shark.

Of course, when it comes the wardrobe part, I will be tweaking it a bit according to my suitability. I look forward to owning a British Army Browning L9A1. Don't look surprised- us Sherlockians secretly want to own one.
I was thinking of bringing my hammerhead shark- his name is Gladstone- but I don't think he could fit into my suitcase, the poor chap. My second choice would be a fox. I imagine I would name it Watson.




So if I unexpectedly vanish from my usual haunts in Toronto- you know where I am.




Joanne






(Note: This wonderful letter was inspired by disequilibrium- I took out the "Badassery" part because the Sherlockian School of Deduction is itself, already badass. It needs no further emphasis.)

In This Way Only

Painter: Janet Hill



The power of a glance has been so much abused in love stories, that it has come to be disbelieved in. Few people dare now to say that two beings have fallen in love because they have looked at each other. Yet it is in this way that love begins, and in this way only.

- Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

A Second's Thought

(Photo: Oxford's Bodleian Library)

Lovely minds, think alike:

Virginia Woolf  described walking past a library at Oxford in contemplation: “I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse perhaps to be locked in.”



(Photo: Inside the Bodleian Library)

I have always dreamt of opening a book store that would reminisce an atmosphere Sherlock Holmes would enjoy walking through, in a lovely neighbourhood somewhere within the city. If that can't be done, I will continue to improve and collect unique editions and rare books as I have done thus far, and create the most stunning home library the world has ever seen.
 A girl can dream...and possibly succeed.

Prelude

Prelude
Tomas Tranströmer


Awakening is a parachute jump from the dream.
Freed from the choking vortex, the diver
sinks towards the green map of morning.
Things magnify. He sees, from the fluttering lark's
position, huge tree-root systems
like branchings of subterranean chandeliers. Above ground,
in tropical flood, earth's greenery
stands with lifted arms, as if listening
to the beat of invisible pistons. And he
sinks towards summer, is lowered
into its dazzling crater, lowered
between fissures of moist green eons
trembling under the sun's turbine. Then halts
the downward dive through time's eyeblink, the wingspread
becomes an osprey's glide over streaming water.
Bronze Age trumpets:
their outlaw tune
hangs motionless over the void.


In the day's first hours consciousness can own the world
like a hand enclosing a sun-warm stone.
The skydiver stands under the tree.
With the plunge through death's vortex
will light's great chute spread over his head?


To my great delight and much cheers, a hearty congratulations to Swedish poet Tomas Tranströmer, who has won the 2011 Nobel Prize for Literature.
The reason for his win? "...through his condensed, translucent images, he gives us fresh access to reality".
Tranströmer's words are so mesmerizing, capturing our world and the human understanding with such depth, it is fair to say that he is one of a kind- not to mention he's also a favourite poet of mine! He is truly one of the greatest Scandinavian poets.
Although you may not have known of his existence previously, you sure do now. Look into some of his works at your local bookstores today.