Just read the poem. And I am lucky to have discovered this. Thanks.

Mike Quinn loved the Fat Boy!

Great stuff! Love the two guys at 3:07:30

Always a treat. I wasn't able to get to Delancey Street today but I felt like I was there with the live stream. Thanks!

"Men make their own history, but they do not make it as they please; they do not make it under self-selected circumstances, but under circumstances existing already, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brains of the living." Marx in 1852

K e dl😢😢 0:25 bludb lold s on

Great interview and a fascinating collection for a poet! Frogs and toads and snails are meta. Lovely

Thank for continuing it monthly! ❤ Love the reference to Usual Suspects. Amazing movie. I had to watch again immediately.

One, two, Redhead is blue; Three, four, Convenient store; Five, six, Confidence tricks; Seven, eight, A two-month wait; Nine, ten, Vanish again; Eleven, twelve, Tunnel to wealth; Thirteen, fourteen, Robbery thwarting; Fifteen, sixteen, Detectives itching; Seventeen, eighteen, Flagstone gaping; Nineteen, twenty, Arrests aplenty.

Ladybird, ladybird, time to move on; Your house is on fire and the vicar is gone. All that is left is to thwart Holmes’s plan, And bid him goodnight while disguised as a man.

Stark mark, an idea sparked, And now a new beggar’s in town; Money bags concealed by rags Too tempting to turn down.

1.) My favorite cocktail of the series is the Watson Reviver (with the magic ingredient, brandy). Somewhat similar to an Old Fashioned, actually. 2.) There's quite a bit of drinking in the Canon as well. Not just brandy, but expecially clarets, sherry, and notably Tokaj wine, BUT cocktails were right out- an American corruption of liquor (whiskey and water was okay). Famously, Petri wines sponsored the New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes radio program. Some great alcoholic associations to also justify a tipple while reading. If you're worried about your consumption, you might lock your decanters in a tantalus and give the key to your housekeeper for safekeeping. 😉

Wonderful series. Thank you Ed.

You're all lovely and thank you for your insights, observations, and humor! It's been great to have another reason to hang out with other Sherlockians weekly.

I’ll tell thee everything I can, There’s little to declare: Once in my mind I saw a man, Legs crossed in easy chair. A keen grey gaze at me he cast, That seemed to pierce me through. “Who are you, sir?” I said at last, “And what is it you do?” He said, “I get my exercise By learning every street; At times I go out in disguise, My enemies to greet. When peace abides on earth,” he said, “I cannot rest at ease; But violent crime and secrets dread Are guaranteed to please.” But I had studied all my life To learn the healing art; And having earned the surgeon’s knife, I would not now depart. So, tempted as I was by such Intriguing narrative, I shook my head and said, “Too much! ’Tis no fit way to live!” He smiled, “I hunt for truth with lies, And tread where saints would fear; No client too lowly to advise, From king to mutineer. I study ash and ancient scrolls, And when I’m bored with that, I fill the wall with bullet holes To brighten up the flat.” But now new figures filled my brain: Hussars, explorers, knights, And pirates of the Spanish Main - Of these, too, I would write! “Have patience, sir,” I said to him, Convinced he’d soon forgive. A snort escaped, his features grim: “You ask me how I live? I find existence flat and stale, My mind upon me preys; I need conundrums without fail To occupy my days! Oh, Scotland Yard may pay a call, Or some disgruntled royal, But little thanks I get withal - What say you, Arthur Doyle?” I heard his weary, scornful gibe, And realised in shame That every great man needs a tribe Much more than fleeting fame. To work again I put my mind, And saw across the sea An army doctor, worn but kind, Brought home by injury. How much of me was in that man I should not care to say, But thus, a partnership began Which lives unto this day; And while Holmes never speaks a word Of thanks upon the topic, He knows full well ‘twas I who spurred His Boswell from the tropics. And now, if e’er by chance I hear A haunting violin, Or if my wilful children swear They shan’t take medicine! Or if I take a limping step Upon a flight of stairs, I smile in something like remorse For having started on this course, My fame and reputation’s source A pair that Time could ne’er divorce, As brave as two berserking Norse, Humiliating London’s force With wit and cunning sharp as gorse, A-lounging in their chairs.

Some answers to livechat questions: Q: kristin1644 so if Moran knew Holmes survived, doesn't that negate the whole fake death? A: Yes, it does. I agree with you here. What’s the point of faking his death once he knows that Moran knows he’s alive? Maybe because Moran and only a select few would know might possibly be helpful, but it seems as if Holmes only stays away to wait for an opportunity to catch Moran. Q: Joe Becker How did Mycroft come to know ‘enough’ about Sherlock’s room(s) to maintain it/them as it/they had been? A: I think Mrs Hudson would have been enough help to do this. Q: Valië Débora Does the fire ever get addressed? A: Doyle remembers to tie-in the “air-gun”, but doesn’t mention that the rooms were set on fire in Final Problem. As Max replied in the chat, Holmes did say that there was “No great harm was done.” So, I think the fire was a non-issue.

An empty street, as midnight nears; No bustling steps, no vendor’s shout. (An empty house, worn frail with years, Grimed windows staring blankly out.) An empty case, no telling clue For baffled Yarders long bereft. (Damp, peeling paper, soot-choked flue - Of cosy scenes, mere traces left.) An empty heart, consumed by grief; Best friend’s return could ne’er heal all. (A sudden draft stirs drifted leaf, New footsteps treading dusty hall.) An empty life - or is it two? Renewed by shared impending doom. (A muffled figure edges through The dark to waiting upstairs room.) An empty room... or so it seems! An empty trap now holds prey fast. (An empty house, left to its dreams; An empty flat, refilled at last.)

2:09:12 I really believed he was dead for real and all future stories were going to be memoirs

Excellent short documentary about a fascinating place.

Wonderful!

Content and presentation - so meaningful. Great work about great work.

Doyle's career was hitting a wall, Pushed Holmes over the Reichenbach Fall; Thought it was safe to pick up his pen... Found himself writing his bane yet again!

38:40 Inspired by the NYT emoji Connections, I have created this appropriately themed pictorial puzzle. This character appears in this story: >📏(🦶🏻🦶🏻🦶🏻)🍵

I know I’m absurdly late to this, but in case you check comments: Felix’ more convenient season was him deciding to wait to be converted to Christianity, after Paul preached to him.

I'm behind a few weeks and watching now. I found it very interesting how you discussed the return home, the desire to see again the sights of the home country, and how coming back is harder and not what was expected. It reminded me a lot of a pessimistic take on Frodo's return home in The Lord of the Rings, as I'm sure Ed will appreciate.

Men's shirt cuffs were often coated with cellulose, which made them easy for a laundress to wipe clean as well as lasting longer.

Little Miss Muffett told her brother to stuff it, And stayed in his bedroom all day. She locked up behind her, which served him a blinder, Caught stealing the treaty away.

"Promo sm" ☺️

LOL! I love the idea that Watson's "oh my goodness Holmes, how did you know that?" is actually sarcastic.

David J. Skal was probably the man with the most knowledge about Dracula to ever walk the earth and a true gentleman. Rest well, good sir.

My mom always used the term sticking plaster when referring to something clingy like our cats and dogs, but in an endearing way. I picked up the use of the term along the way. I am forever getting questioning looks, and then I explain what a sticking plaster is. A great memory for me in this story. By the way, my cat, Elizabeth R is truly a sticking plaster, hence I carry the term forward still. 😂❤

Monday's child has plastered face Tuesday's child begs Holmes's grace Wednesday's child is ruthless foe Thursday's child knows lover's woe Wednesday's child is unforgiving Monday's child is no longer living But the child that is swiftly borne away Is well able to make her abductors pay.

Perhaps the coffee grinder motion is to intimate that Pickwick will be put through the grinder?

Hush-a-bye patient, in fear for your head; Till the thieves find you, with care you must tread! When the thieves find you, three times they will call: Biddle and Hayward and Moffat and all!

I have played snapdragon and it is fun! If you move quickly you don’t get burned. It works best with a wide shallow (flame-proof) bowl, your reward is a liquor-soaked raisin (use big ones!) or almond. Make sure your table is one you don’t mind a few singe marks on, in case someone drops a raisin.

There was a crooked man, and he had a crooked mate Who betrayed him for a woman, so for justice had to wait. He walked a crooked road, till he reached the crooked house, And found the crooked Colonel being tongue-lashed by his spouse.

Goosey goosey gander, Whither did he wander? Outside at midnight To watch his masters plunder. Furious, the young man Made him say his prayers. Ganders shouldn't dabble In evil men's affairs!

Easy to make. Put sugar in a bowel with a bit of food coloring, mix it tot he color you want. Spread it on a cookie sheet with wax paper, bake for about 10 min at 275 (I think) you can look up the temp. Then store it

I love to hear Frank Cho is still doing well. I went to the University of Maryland at the same time as he did. I love his university newspaper cartoons and followed his post graduation career for a few years until I moved across the country. Fantastic artist!

Twinkle, twinkle, royal hat, How I wonder where you're at. Down below in cellar room, Leading butler to his doom.

I think I saw someone comment this on the FB page, but I interpreted the ending for the Hudson Beddoes situation was not that Beddoes fled and Hudson was out of luck, but rather Beddoes killed Hudson (hid or destroyed the body) and fled the country. So at least one immoral character theoretically met his end.

(The original poem is from the 18th century. Edward, I don't recommend reading this one on air, unless you're really good at tongue twisters! A few unfortunate spoonerisms may slip out...) I’m not a pheasant plucker, I’m a pheasant plucker’s foe, And I cannot rest at ease Until the pheasant plucker goes. Plucking pheasants is his pleasure, Which he does with loathsome leer; Now he’s plucking Father’s pheasants, Who exists in constant fear. I’m not a pheasant plucker, I’m a plucker’s victim’s son, And Holmes says this ciphered note Means one more victim on the run. So if I should meet the plucker On my way out to Terai, I shall pluck him good and hard Before he has a chance to fly!

In my opinion, Frank Langella's portrayal of Dracula on stage and screen was most faithful to Balderston's version. Langella has the right mix of charisma, elegance, menace, egomania, and ruthlessness. Lugosi doesn't come close. The 1931 film also suffers because it contains none of Tod Browning's unique, grotesque, and macabre style. Browning is officially the director of the film, but I suspect his disinterest meant that Karl Freund stepped into that role. In terms of films, Schreck's haunting, brilliant performance in Nosferatu is closest to Stoker's description of Dracula.

God rest David J. Skal. 🌹

Somebody needs to send Ed some edible glitter so he doesn't have to paint it. (Which honestly sounds like one of the make-work these villains make their marks do to occupy them while the nefarious deeds are getting done.)

I just found out now. What a damn shame

The daughter of a harrier had found a man to marry her, Though off her head and ill in bed, her chamber locked to tarry her. A governess was smart enough to seek Holmes and impart enough To solve the case, then quit the place, a boarding school fresh start enough.

As I was going to St Ives, I met two men with many wives. Each wife had many woes, One wife had too few years, Both men had much to fear. Fears, years, woes, wives, How long would running save their lives?

Little Jack Horner, trapped in a corner, Thought he was going to die. Though this contract most rum merely cost him a thumb, He complained, “What a poor fool am I!”