This week’s little essay is the third in a series. What series? The series of “View from Sherlock Peoria” essays for this weekend that were rejected by the editor-in-chief. What, you ask, there are actually standards at Sherlock Peoria?

Hmm, I guess so. Surprised the heck out of me. Of course, if the deadline weren’t so fast upon me, here’s what I might still have written about:

New books by Sherlockian publishers that came out this month, debuting at the B.S.I. weekend. Bigger news than who got a certain British coin, but always slower in circulating.

Long winter evenings, and how the passing of them in a Sherlockian way is no longer the same as it was twenty or so years ago. (And, boy, do I wish I could remember the Canonical quote that applies. It’s on the tip of my brain.)

The Big Project. There’s always a Big Project hanging on the edge of Sherlock Peoria, so that might not have been news.

The impending visitation from the Maniac Collector. Historically, my spending any time with the estimable Mr. Hobbs results in some crazy venture that I never would have predicted. What will come next? Nobody knows, not even Hobbs. He’s a little like Dr. Who that way.

The prospect of a global Sherlockian society. Is the day coming?

But for this week, a few random thoughts are all that are making it past the editor.

Your humble correspondent,

Brad Keefauver