I Did Not Make It Up

Oscar Wilde and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
dined together in August, 1889, in the
home of Joseph Marshall Stoddart,
the editor of Lippincott’s.

Doyle wrote of Wilde,
“He towered above us all,
and yet had the art of seeming to be
interested in all that we had to say.”

Shortly thereafter, Conan Doyle sent Lippincott’s his second
Holmes tale, “The Sign of Four,” the story in which
Sherlock Holmes begins to say Oscar-like things, such as,
“I abhor the dullroutine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation.”

Everyone has their favorite Sherlock Holmes. Mine is Jeremy Brett.