A Visit To The Doctor

One day last week, the realization hit me that I hadn't been to the doctor in quite some time. Of course, I had had no reason to visit him-the past few years have been fairly healthy ones for me. The mere fact that I hadn't had my health confirmed, by a licensed medical man began to bother me anyway, gnawing away at me until I finally took action. I went to consult the only doctor I had seen on a regular basis during the last decade: John H. Watson, MD. A few words from him would certainly satisfy my hypochondria... and cheaply, too.

Dr. Watson has always been good about letting me make an appointment on the spur of the moment, and this was just such an occasion.-I found him in his Sign of the Four consulting room, looking on while his most frequent patient, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, administered an injection of cocaine to himself. Watson was none too happy with Holmes's self-treatment, but in the midst of arguing the matter with the detective, he managed to throw out some words which I knew were directed at me.

"Count the cost!" he exclaimed in tones of utmost urgency.

It sounded like sage advice to me, so I left the doctor to finish attempting to advise the stubborn Holmes.

Count the cost. Those words could apply to only one thing, and I knew it -- my Sherlockian avocation. The hundredth anniversary of the publication of A Study in Scarlet had been an opportunity seized by everyone from book publishers to travel agents to celebrate in the only way they knew how-by selling something. Suddenly, the Sherlockian marketplace, which had been as barren as the Utah salt flats only a few years earlier, had been deluged with items of interest.

Watson certainly hadn't needed to tell me to count what the cost had been to me so far. A book-buying binge at Bouchercon had left the household budget with a hangover like Sherlock Holmes never had on the morning following his birthday. And with The New Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and The Revenge of the Hound finally bought and paid for, I was taking a much needed breather from Sherlockian purchases. What Watson was advising me about, I was certain, was to watch out for what this Sherlockian hobby could cost if let run unbridled through my bank account.

Over the past three months I'd let a lot of Sherlockian junk mail pile up on the dining room table. Bit by bit, a person manages to get on mailing lists no matter what his or her area of interest, and being a Sherlockian is no different. Gathering up that pile from the table, I got out my calculator and proceeded to do just what Watson advised: count the cost.

In a roughly two-and-a-half month period between mid-August and the end of October, I could have spent a total of $2300.24 on things Sherlocklan, had I wanted to. And that total is based only on items offered for sale for the first time during those months. If I really wanted to spend even more than that, there were always those items from the last 100 years of Holmes that can still be had for a price. For example, in those same two-and-a-half months, I passed up a copy of The Misadventures of Sherlock Holmes which a book dealer had for $150, and that was not the most expensive of his Sherlockian line. To take the possi-bilities a step further, somewhere in the world in that same time period, an 1887 Beeton's Christmas Annual changed hands at a cost of $25,000. Care to tack that one on to the possible purchases list?

"There are no limits to the possibilities of monomania," my doctor once told me during a "Six Napoleons" consultation, and I can see now that he was right. Even in a field as seemingly harmless as the study of Sherlock Holmes, there are pos-sibilities for catastrophic financial illness. I just hope that centennial indulging Sherlockians didn't pick this time to dabble in stocks as well. Like so many other medical conditions, however, Sherlockian monomania is easily preventable. A strict diet, lean on deerstalker-and-calabash wearing toys and artwork . , combined with moderation in the consumption of pastiches, and regular outdoor exercise can be an effective preventative. The occasional non-Sherlockian vacation can do wonders as well.

Sometimes it's cheaper to stay away from the doctor-especially if the doctor's name is Watson.

(Printed in Plugs & Dottles, December 1987)