I Believe in Sherlock Holmes
The first time John saw it, he thought he was seeing things.
And there was this small, still part of his mind that was still the doctor, still able to take a step back and rationally say: “I am grieving and I am not in my right mind and therefore if I am seeing things that should not be there, that is only natural.”
But he began to see the messages more and more.
I believe in Sherlock Holmes.
Moriarty was real.
There they were, scrawled on the pavements, on the walls, on park benches and trash bins. Spraypainted in bright colors by determined street graffiti artists. Sometimes, written with felt tip pens or ball points on restroom walls. A few times, he saw people wearing the messages as T-shirts and they would nod solemnly at him when they passed him and recognized who he was.
And they were people from all walks of life - schoolchildren, teenagers, typical office workers, street vendors…
Once, he saw the words as a bag tag while riding the Tube and the young lady who owned the bag slanted him a wink and a grin.
And even better, the messages began to flood his email and his blog - people all over the world writing I believe in Sherlock Holmes. They posted papers on street signs and telephone poles, wrote messages in the sand, scrawled it in lipstick on bathroom mirrors. Just to get the message out that they too believed.
Florida believes in Sherlock Holmes.
Moscow believes in Sherlock Holmes.
Chicago believes in Sherlock Holmes.
Madrid, Spain - we believe in Sherlock Holmes.
Manila believes in Sherlock Holmes.
Today, John Watson stepped outside and saw a little girl writing determinedly in chalk on the sidewalk.
Katie believes in Sherlock Holmes.
She beamed when she saw him standing there and toddled over to give him a quick hug before running back into the playground.
John Watson is still grieving the lost of his best friend, the best man and the most human, human being he had ever known. It’s not a pain that will go away soon.
But he believes. And there are others believing with him.
It doesn’t hurt me.
You wanna feel how it feels?
You wanna know, know that it doesn’t hurt me?
You wanna hear about the deal I’m making?
You be running up that hill
You and me be running up that hill
And if I only could,
Make a deal with God,
And get him to swap our places,
Be running up that road,
Be running up that hill,
Be running up that building.
If I only could, oh…
- “Running Up That Hill,” version by Placebo, orig. Kate Bush
Picture Source: Photo taken by darth stitch