My friends, it seems, seem to have rather odd interests. IM is VERY interested in Mobile Suit Gundam series, which appalled me. And now that the new movie came out, I stumbled upon another of their “interests”…

Sherlock Holmes.

Now, I myself am an avid Holmes fan. While the tricks detailed in his adventures are rather simple sometimes (The Solitary Cyclist case was rather easy enough to predict the outcome), I do love his mannerisms and well, his “flash of brilliance” as opposed to the very common John Watson. But never had I been a Sherlock maniac, as IM and JB are.

So when I inquired them whether I should go see the newly-released film, their immediate response was a solid, definite, “NO.”

“Why?”

“Because no American can do Sherlock Holmes. It is a sacrilege to everything Sherlock stands for. Only an Englishman raised in England during the Victorian era who attended Oxbridge can exude that kind of particular mannerisms. It is rather obvious that Sherlock would be clean-shaven, meticulous in his habits.”

This young man who said it, might I add, is an Englishman who, while not raised in the Victorian Era, had attended Oxbridge and is clean-shaven. I’m not certain what to think of this.

“Has to be an Englishman, hasn’t he?”

“Of course. A Scotsman has a rather different outlook of life. No, only an Englishman, I’d say; Jeremy Brett was Sherlock himself. Rupert Everett isn’t so bad either, but none shall stand up to Brett’s rendition of that detective.”

I should hope so. After all, Jeremy Brett spent his life doing Holmes.

“What about the game? You know, Sherlock Holmes VS Jack the Ripper?”

“That game is a farce. If Sherlock was kind enough to be charitable to the street urchins, I am going to eat my hat.”

“But, IM, you don’t wear a hat.”

“Regardless, I will eat my hat. That is no Sherlock. Sherlock is a cold-hearted, calculating, meticulous, observant bastard.”

“… why do those phrases sound peculiarly familiar?”

“Because, Gabrielle, they were used to describe you at some point. And me, now to think of it.”

“How pleasant, JB. I’m honoured.”

I do agree wholeheartedly, however, that no rendition of Holmes, no matter how much money had gone into it, shall beat Brett’s rendition of that detective who dwells in 221b Baker Street. Now to come and think of it, I do remember popping in at that particular post office which is around the corner of 221b Baker Street in the Granada Television edition.

Much is said about Sherlock, and so much more isn’t said; but as far as I know, those two shall always admire Holmes’ ingeniosity (which the word, by the way, apparently dos not exist according to my spelchecker). I’m just hoping I’m not Watson. Being above-average is one thing, but being the utter definition of “common” is quite another. I’m not asking to be the spark of brilliance here, but being the foil to the spark of brilliance is rather humiliating by itself.

We then went onto typing Sherlock. To me, Sherlock is an INTJ. He is meticulous, has his own little rules, introverted to the extreme (in fact, he only had one friend during the varsity years), uses his intuition rather often, and almost seems heartless. Watson might be… well, I don’t know if he’s an extrovert or an introvert, but he certainly senses rather than relying on intuition. He might be a J, but again, I can’t tell.

So there we are. Hollywood has messed up Sherlock (how dare they to think that they can match Doyle’s writing?) quite badly. Sherlock Holmes cannot become action, because he rarely does move until the very last minute. He’s a chair-detective, not an action detective, leaving all the physical exertion to Watson if at all possible.

But seriously, Hollywood, haven’t you anything better to do?!