London Town: Its Elementary

London Town: Its Elementary - by Russell Shor

Photo by Russ Shor

London is an old town -- it goes back to the Roman days -- but one of its most famous addresses didn’t exist until 20 years ago: 221 B Baker Street. The guy who lived there never existed at all, but he got sacks of mail at that address for nearly a century.

If you guessed the Sherlock Holmes’ “residence” -- you get a feather for your travel cap.

The very proper townhouse with the black door and brass plaque is exactly what Holmes’ creator described in his tales penned between 1887 and 1927 -- but the house, built in 1815, actually sits between 237 Baker Street and 241 Baker.

The actual address of 221 belonged to a bank, Abbey Society, for decades. And for all of those years, the Abbey Society employed a full time secretary to answer the volume of mail addressed to Sherlock Holmes, asking his assistance in solving mysteries. (Alas, his foil Dr. Watson never received much mail).

By the Centennial of the first Sherlock Holmes tale (1887), the venerable Sherlock was still receiving sacks of mail, despite the fact that he would have been about 150 years old had he existed in the first place.

So, the then-president of the Westminster City Council decided the old house up the street would make a better home for old Sherlock -- which promptly set off a battle between the Abbey Society and the folks organizing the museum -- it seems the bank liked answering Mr. Holmes mail.

However, in 1990, the Museum succeeded in getting its “221 B” Baker street address and opened for business a year or so later. The building is true enough to the tales that one can almost see Mrs. Hudson, his landlady, eyeing the street traffic.

As a museum, it’s not much. Some wax figures. A few relics of his creator Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and, of course, the usual arrays of coffee mugs, T-Shirts, pens, bookmarks and knick-knacks.

But the museum remains a testament to the power of words: the author created a character so appealing, and stories so compelling that people still respond a century later.

Indeed, in 1892, Sir Doyle tried killing off the great detective but the public outcry was so intense that he was obliged to resurrect him.

So, next time you’re in London, take a ride to the Baker Street underground station, turn right on Baker and walk down a half block and marvel at the elementary power of the written word.

Comments

We Need Awe More Than Ever

In this episode, Why We Need Awe More Than Ever Yesterday morning, I slipped into the cool stillness of my backyard before dawn. The air was crisp, the silence deep—broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the familiar calls of birds waking early. Then I looked up. A thin crescent moon hung low in the east, with Venus just above it like a shining jewel. The sky was clear and full of stars, and for a moment, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time: Awe! For thousands of years, the heavens have carried on their steady dance, untouched by human noise. No ruler, no election, no breaking news has ever changed their rhythm. And yet here I was, tempted to reach for my phone—to trade the eternal for the urgent. Instead, I stayed. I watched the moonrise, the sky slowly lighten, and the world around me stir. Ducks passed overhead in a loose V, hummingbirds zipped past to visit their feeder, pausing mid-air as if curious about me sitting so still. Little by little, the static in my mind f...

The Silent Grid–Part Two

In this episode, The Silent Grid – Part Two Sirens split the night as Greenwood went dark. Marvin knew instantly—the blackout wasn’t an accident. It was a warning. In this quiet town, where life once unfolded at a predictable pace, a sleek, intuitive smartphone—a so-called gift from the future —has arrived. But it’s no tool for connection. It’s a silent force, erasing individuality and turning neighbors into something less than human. Marvin Gellborn, a man who values independence, sees the truth. His device isn’t helping; it’s testing him, watching him, and quietly embedding itself into the life of Greenwood. Welcome back to On the Fly . In this week’s episode of The Silent Grid , GridBot tightens its grip. After a hopeful community gathering, Marvin and his robot companion, Norman, notice a troubling absence—the very generation they hoped to reach has vanished into the neon glow of The Signal Box , a youth tech hub pulsing with digital obsession. When Greenwood’s lights vanish, Marvi...

The Pessimism Aversion Trap

In this episode, The Pessimism Aversion Trap Picture this: a room full of bright minds nodding in agreement as a bold new strategy is unveiled. The slides are polished, the vision is grand, and the future, we're told, has never looked brighter. Everyone beams—because who wants to be the one to say, "Um… this might not work"? Heaven forbid someone spoil the mood with a dose of reality. Better to smile, add a buzzword or two, and march confidently toward disaster. That's how the Pessimism Aversion Trap works. Even now, I can still hear the sound—a high-pitched shriek and a digital hum, followed by the slow, rhythmic clatter of data pouring from a 5¼-inch floppy disk. It was the late 1980s, and my makeshift home office (our living room) was dominated by what felt like a marvel of modern engineering: a used Tandy 1000 PC with not one, but two floppy drives. To top it off, we purchased a 'blisteringly fast' 300-baud modem—which, for the uninitiated, could downloa...

History Isn’t a Museum

✨ In this episode, History Isn't a Museum—It's a River . . . History isn't a museum—it's a river, and like it or not, we're already swimming in it. Its waters carry timeless lessons forward, flowing through each generation, waiting to be rediscovered . This profound realization struck me while reading Marcus Aurelius's Meditations . Imagine: a Roman emperor and philosopher two thousand years ago, writing notes that sound like advice from a modern mindfulness coach. When he says, "You have power over your mind—not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength," it feels like he's speaking directly to us. The water may change, but the river is the same. Examining this writing with a fresh, childlike perspective and a wealth of experience, I realize how consistent human nature remains over time. Every generation faces familiar challenges, marked by frustration, peace, courage, faith, baseball, and the search for meaning across the ages...

On The Fly

Search This Blog