Wednesday, January 1, 2014

"Want to See Some More?" "Oh, God, yes!"

My dad, my sister, and I stared at the TV expectantly, all leaning against or lounging upon Mom’s then-new used furniture which had won all our hearts with its soft and comfortable demeanor. Sherlock was on. The theme faded and John Watson lit the screen, fidgeting as he struggled to explain to his therapist why he came back for the first time in eighteen months.

“My best friend,” he eventually chokes. “Sherlock Holmes, is dead.”

“Wait, what?” my sister exclaimed, brow furrowing as the words reverberated through her skull. I grabbed the remote and paused the DVD.

“Sherlock’s dead,” I told her, a small, sad smile crossing my face. “They’re making a third season.”

The light returned to her eyes for a moment as the information processed. The film resumed, and we absorbed Sherlock’s deterioration with utter anticipation. I didn’t let a tear fall, but they hovered around my eyelids should I call for them. And even though I knew what was coming—what we all knew was coming—to watch Sherlock, looking down at John with the phone to his ear and saying, “Consider this my note.” wrenched my heart painfully.

He always preferred texting, you know.

And suddenly, Sally Donovan’s ominous prophecy from the first episode rang true.

“One day, we’ll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one that put it there.”

John came to visit the grave with Mrs. Hudson.

“One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don’t be dead. Would you do that? Just for me. Just stop it. Stop this.”

He walked away. Just a few meters to the side, Sherlock Holmes did the same. We waited, and it seems January is not too soon to meet again. I, for one, cannot wait.

The game is on, my friends.

The game is on.

What shows are you looking forward to this year?

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