…I must first pay tribute to Conan Doyle, the pioneer of detective writing, with his two great creations Sherlock Holmes and Watson – Watson, perhaps the greater creation of the two. Holmes after all has his properties, his violin, his dressing gown, his cocaine, etc – Watson has just himself – lovable, obtuse, faithful, maddening, guaranteed to be always wrong, and perpetually in a state of admiration. How badly we all need a Watson in our lives!(Agatha Christie, “Why I Got Fed Up With Poirot” (1930) x)
Miss Morstan and I stood together, and her hand was in mine. A wondrous subtle thing is love, for here were we two, who had never seen each other before that day, between whom no word or even look of affection had ever passed, and yet now in an hour of trouble our hands instinctively sought for each other. I have marveled at it since, but at the time it seemed the most natural thing that I should go out to her so, and, as she has often told me, there was in her also the instinct to turn to me for comfort and protection. So we stood hand in hand like two children, and there was peace in our hearts for all the dark things that surrounded us.
(John Watson (The Sign of Four by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle))
A Mycroft appreciation post.
The address is 221B Baker Street
I don’t think I ever shared the final version of this so here we go. Not every Holmes and Watson, but quite a lot of them.
And of course:
(If you don’t feel like counting there are around 47 different Holmes and Watsons in this post.)
ETA: Some more Holmes.