Sherlock Stiffmouse.

It has a ring to it don’t you think? I’ve just had this sudden realisation; I am Sherlockian. I mean I’ve long been a disciple of the rational calculation, like when the crew of the Star Ship Enterprise encountered thirty-foot gorillas brandishing sharpened telegraph poles were all set to risk life and limb to reclaim the slain body of their junior chiropodist officer under the aegis of spurious noble emotions, I was going, No! Tell ‘em Spock! No we high capability sociopaths have no desire to dabble in the brown waters of human emotion. The answers lie in observation and deduction. A dead body no longer has the required attributes of a chum. But alas we are branded heartless by the herd. And our powers of deduction are not appreciated. Only last night in the midst of an exquisite diatribe constructing the subtle nuances of some social phenomena, I forget what exactly, I was rudely cut short by comments such as, “you ramble on and on till we just lose interest.” Lose interest?! Where would the world be if Heisenberg’s audience lost interest? Did Plato get bored listening to Socrates? OK it may get boring listening to the expostulations of a brilliant mind when all PC Lestrade wants is someone to handcuff but someone has to do it. But thanks to the wonderful portrayal by Benedict Cumberbatch our human side can be glimpsed. We are not ‘showing off’ as Dr Watson puts it when we become enraptured by our own brilliance but must, as he suggests, curtail the exposition of it. It just becomes too much for the average brain to take in. But oh the loneliness of not being able to share it. Alas, like Spock, it is a cross even we rodents must bear nobly. Please do read my 5,000 word exposition on the magnificent aroma of various cheeses.