Word: sherlocking
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...walls hung eight profiles of hawk-faced Sherlock Holmes, a curved pipe pendent from his thin lips and a deerstalker cap pushed down on his dolichocephalic skull. Five orange pips lay on one table. On another stood a porcelain Hound of the Baskervilles. The guests raised their glasses, drank to Holmesian characters and places-"To THE Woman," "To Mrs. Hudson," "To Mycroft." Along with place cards, women guests found Holmesian cryptograms-a single red rose and a mysterious note: "Dear Miss -, See you at 2216. Sincerely, John H. Watson." In one corner Author Christopher Morley, in a hunting cap, peered...
...place was Manhattan's solemn, dim-lit Murray Hill Hotel, where some 100 men & women had assembled for dinner last fortnight to honor the memory of their favorite detective, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes. The occasion was the publication of three new books about Holmes.* The publishers jointly sponsored the dinner. The guests were a Who's Who of crime fictioneers, included Frederic Dannay (coauthor, with Manfred Lee, of the "Ellery Queen" crime series), bearded Rex Stout (creator of orchidophilous Nero Wolfe), Christopher Morley (author of the theory that Sherlock Holmes was an American). Critic...
Holmes fans do not admit that the man whom G. K. Chesterton called "the only real legend of our time" is just a character in a detective story. They insist that since his last public appearance (1927) in The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes, Holmes has simply retired from his smoke-filled rooms at London's 2216 Baker Street to a bee farm in Sussex. At last week's dinner no whiff of Holmesian ritual was omitted. Holmesian pundits floored one another with complicated I.Q. tests based on the Master's "Sacred Writings," filled the air with...
...these rights," concluded the President, "spell security. . . . True individual freedom cannot exist without economic security and independence." Some druggists on Capitol Hill thought the handwriting on the prescription seemed strangely familiar-identical, in fact, with that of the late Dr. New Deal. Perhaps, like the author of Sherlock Holmes, the old fellow's creator might feel that popular demand required at least temporary resuscitation...
...soon over. The small-fry cases proved to be two-day stories at best. The Lonergan case, born in a palace, died in an alley. Its climax: estranged Husband Lonergan, who had fled to Toronto and been brought back by plane, had pulled the job. It took no Sherlock Holmes to untangle a crime whose tawdry details petered out into unprintable and nearly unprintable gossip...