Arthur Conan Doyle would have been really, really old today.

I almost let Arthur Conan Doyle's 153rd birthday pass by unacknowledged (on this blog). THAT, my dear friends, would have been a travesty. And I will tell you why . . . in GIFs.

Arthur is responsible for creating two of the most loved characters in all of literature. End of story. Yay for books and all that jazz. But let's focus on what's TRULY important here. Without this dapper Scottish gentleman . . .

Can you spot the creative genius? Hint: He keeps it on his face.

. . . we wouldn't have this:

Sherlock for kids.

. . . or this:

Sherlock NOT for kids.

More important, there would be none of this:

Watson: making real-life best friends look bad since 1887. 

And I SHUDDER to imagine a world without this:

Words. I no longer remember how to use them.

So thank you, Arthur, for bringing Watson and Sherlock into our lives and establishing them permanently in pop culture. And, most of all, thank you ever so for making this possible:

You probably don't want credit for this. WELL TOO BAD.

Happy birthday, you old coot.

The Sign of Four/The Great Mouse Detective/The best way to end 2011

My intelligent thoughts on The Sign of Four may not be sufficient to fill a whole post, but I just rewatched The Great Mouse Detective and it's the last day of 2011 and I WANT TO SPEND IT WITH SHERLOCK. *Ahem*

First of all, props to Disney for making a faithful representation of Sherlock Holmes in mouse form. I was too innocent (and too traumatized by the world's creepiest bat) to see it when I watched this as a child, but Basil has all the signs of being manic-depressive and nursing a cocaine habit.

Basil is depressed (note the violin).

Basil is manic (note the pupils...and confiscate the gun).

Really, between the bat that haunts your dreams, the slutty bar mouse, the morbidly obese cat that eats anyone who annoys Ratigan, and the excessive drinking by cartoon animals, this is THE BEST KIDS' MOVIE OF ALL TIME. Sure to leave emotional scars and a deep-seated love of mice and all things Sherlock Holmes.

Anywoodle, I do have a couple of observations regarding The Sign of Four, other than its shocking lack of crime-solving mice.

When the story picks up, Watson has been living with Holmes for years and is starting to get used to his peculiarities. What he CAN'T seem to get used to is the sight of Holmes injecting himself with cocaine and/or morphine, which seems to be a regular occurrence.

Three times a day for many months I had witnessed this performance, but custom had not reconciled my mind to it. (p. 91)

Poor, sweet Watson. He's just a moral, upright mouse man who wants to live a quiet sort of life. Not much chance of that since Holmes needs either a complex mystery or drugs to keep his thinky bits stimulated.

I suppose that its influence is physically a bad one. I find it, however, so transcendently stimulating and clarifying to the mind that its secondary action is a matter of small moment. (p. 91)

But this story does see Watson finding love with the lovely Mary Morstan. And they are disgustingly adorable. Even Holmes begrudgingly admits as much as he reaches for the cocaine bottle.

In mouse form, she's quite out of Watson's league.

Next year for me will include Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (aka Irene Adler! Finally!). Until then, Happy New Year, everyone . . . and I leave you with this sage advice from Watson.

SOURCE: Conan Doyle, Arthur. (1938). "The Sign of Four." In The Complete Sherlock Holmes (pp. 91–173). Garden City, NY: Garden City Publishers.