Elementary, my dear Watson

I grew up enveloped in the world of Sherlock Holmes. I loved the stories of murder, mystery, and deception. I read about Irene Adler, Inspector Lestrade, and Professor Moriarty. I loved following Holmes through the investigation; he never seemed to be getting anywhere, but he always extracted complex secrets out of the tiny flake of dirt found 50 feet away from the body and solved the crime in half and hour.

Sherlock Holmes is the first real superhero. His powers of observation and deduction are beyond human comprehension. Surely he got electrocuted in his basement or bitten by a spider or something too? But, unlike Spiderman and such, he seems to be the perfect role model: inquisitive, observant, and educated. The perfect hero, right? Wrong.

For example, did you know that Sherlock Holmes was a cocaine addict? It's true. In at least one of Arthur Conan Doyle's short stories, Watson has to descend into a smoky drug den and drag Holmes (still under the influence) out to get him to talk to a client.

But Sherlock Holmes is the epitome of education and knowledge, right? Wrong, perhaps. Sure, Holmes knows everything about certain specialized subjects, such as medicine, chemistry, and distinguishing between various brands of tobacco. But when Watson first meets Holmes, Watson is amazed that Holmes doesn't know that the earth revolves around the sun. It's true, look it up.

But, no matter what else may be immaginations of our cultural memory, Holmes definitely said "Elementary, my dear Watson," right? Wrong. He never said it. The closest he ever came was the simple reply "Elementary!" And he only said it once.

Does this mean that we should abandon Sherlock Holmes as a cultural hero? No. To me, this is precisely the allure of the Sherlockian myth: that a man could have near-debilitating faults, but still be astounding at another task. Isn't being a real hero all about overcoming the odds anyway?