With the prime example of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson constantly before our eyes -- like fine oil-change reminder decals on the windshield of life -- Sherlockians should be keenly attuned to the importance of camaraderie, one would think. And, indeed, most of us do know the importance of carrying at least one very good friend in our social arsenal from their model. But this week I couldn’t help but be struck by how important we are to each other at the most basic of levels especially those of us with quirky past-times.

My common lunch partner and I were off on an errand this Friday, and as it was that kind of Friday, my friend started singing his conversation. Not feeling particularly vocal at that moment, I joined in by snapping my fingers and creating a beat for the song. The result was a sort of bee-bop jazz thing that almost sounded respectable . . . simply because there were two of us participating. Alone, either one of us might have seemed simply goofy, but working together, the result was something more.

I started considering how we view those blessed souls who, all alone, start singing or dancing on street corners. They’re crazy, right? We chuckle and dismiss them as mentally unbalanced, and the sad fact is that a lot of them are. But what if you saw two homeless guys working together on their crazy act, one singing and one dancing? Suddenly they seem to have purpose, they seem to be something more than just mad. They’re creating art.

As much as the more conservative Sherlockians hate for us to admit it, the hobby of Sherlockiana grew up around the loving research of Sherlock Holmes being treated as if he were a real person. Were there only one such person in the world, we’d call him a complete and utter madman, but when there are scores of us, most holding decent jobs and earning a good wage, suddenly the “madness” becomes a whimsical hobby.

When Ronald Knox first attempted the study of Holmes, he did it as a plainly humorous speech, with funny names to make sure it was “Hey, I’m just joking, not crazy, right?” Next came S.C. Roberts with his little biography of Dr. Watson, played completely straight. He saw what Knox had done, went, “Hey, there’s another guy like me -- I can do this and people won’t think I’m nuts!” H.W. Bell and T.S. Blakenery saw Roberts’s work and joined in. And so on, and so on.

As we’ve learned from the growth of the internet, strength in numbers isn’t always a good thing. Certain harmful perversions of diet and sex have been aided and abetted by the ability to find similar people who actually are crazy. Crazy enforces and encourages crazy. But it also enforces and encourages good things . . . curiosity, moral fiber, scientific methods, the sorts of things many of us found wonderful about Sherlock Holmes to start with.

Of course, none of us would have found those things wonderful without that one other person teaming up with Sherlock Holmes. Dr. Watson was the guy snapping his fingers so Holmes’s odd singing didn’t look all that crazy. His whole “lone genius” persona would have been out the window if not for Watson’s gifts with a pen following behind. So next time you’re thinking of taking on the world alone, thinking “if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself,” consider dragging a partner into it . . . just so the world doesn’t decide you’re one more crazy homeless guy.

Your humble correspondent,

Brad Keefauver