Last summer after I ran away from home, I traveled around the UK for six weeks. On my last night there, before heading to South Korea, I finally visited 221b Baker Street, one of my lifetime ambitions. It was late and I had spent the day running around London trying to get the last of things on my checklist. I remembered passing the pub on the coach trip into town so I grabbed my handy bus timetable and soon found myself in front of the one of the most famous addresses in literary history, if not the world!.
He claimed to be the night caretaker at a local mental institution (I swear this is true) and wanted to work on his technique for picking up women. I figured it was a public space with lots of witnesses and I wasn't foolish enough to follow him anywhere and I helped him introduce himself to a bevy of young ladies at the bar (My god - where do I find these people?) Anyway he was charming, paid for the beer and showed me where to catch the fastest bus back to the hostel where I was staying. And that is my silly Sherlock Holmes London adventure!
Happy birthday Mr. Holmes - we are in good company!