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sloanee Jensen - The saga of Sherlock

THE SAGA OF SHERLOCK [a fan song/poem]

Written by sloanee Jensen

~ from the privat papers of Dr. John H. Watson ~

I was wounded in the Afghan war and lay long near Death’s door /
I was sent back to my homeland, but could not go on as before

My life was aimless and all without purpose /
living in London soon left me disillusioned and penniless

An old friend then told me of a way out of my plight /
he knew of a fellow flat-seeker who might make things right

In the lab I first met him, searching for ways to further thwart crime /
oh, blessed be the day when his life was woven with mine!

He greeted me with pleasure, all aglow with his latest discovery /
little did I know that together we would make history

Oh, what a terrifying criminal he could have been if his mind had been bent /
but he loved England, and her people considered him Heaven-sent

Yet he shunned greater society and all pleasant company /
a true Bohemian he remained secluded within the safety of his study

He was inscrutable – a deep well without an end /
undauntable – he followed the chosen trail through every twist and bend

Lies he could not abide, for Truth he did wage war /
by the God of Justice he solemnly swore

Slowly our friendship grew, he became addicted to me /
we dwelt in contentment together for many a year in 221B

Sidney Paget Sherlock Holmes Baker Street

I called him a machine; I tested his deductions /
he welcomed the challenge and overthrew all my presumptions

A great heart willingly mastered by a great brain /
emotions and sentiments could not be allowed to reign

Not for him the lover’s embrace nor the marriage-bed /
he wedded himself to that work which set him apart and ahead

He soothed his restless mind with music and morphine /
peace was in the violin-strings and a pipe all a-smoking

Cast upon the couch he drifted long in many a strange dream /
but then he awoke, ready once more to again play the game

The Yard came to him often for guidance and aid /
and helpless clients of all classes so confused and afraid

The cases of princes, kings and fair maidens he handled with discreet /
as they came flocking to his humble abode on Baker Street

Unique in all the land: the world’s only consulting detective /
to gather all the facts was his sole great objective

Robert Fawcett Sherlock Holmes illustration

His manners where peerless, his dress without flaw /
a true English gentleman and mighty champion of the law

Like a hound he hunted the lawless, Europe’s criminals cursed his name /
their defeat only served to make worthy his fame

But one evil-doer stood out from all the rest: Moriarty wove his webs with skill /
his numberless minions closed in on Holmes for the kill

Yet Sherlock matched him wit to wit; none of his schemes went as planned /
so one final fitting payment the villain did seek to demand

We fled to the Continent and he followed us to Switzerland /
trekking through the Alps Sherlock waited for the fateful blow to descend

I was lured away from him by trickery, he suspected yet said nothing /
he went on ahead, to where his doom was waiting

When I returned there was no body on the battle-ground /
a note, a case, and his walking stick was all I ever found

Sidney Paget Dr. John Watson Reichenbach Fall

I called out his name again and again in vain /
but the water rushed on unchanging
- the Professor and the Detective had been each other’s bane.

He wrote that he had reached the climax of his career /
that nothing he could do in after-days would ever compare

Sherlock Holmes was dead – the kindest and wisest man I have ever known /
he had gone to meet his foe and so his soul had flown

He was my most beloved and worthy friend /
how, by God, could he ever be dead?

Let there be one more miracle, one desperate chance /
let us all confess now: we loved watching him dance

Three long years passed, my lovely Mary died /
crime carried on and much justice was denied

I was a simple doctor, content with my common-place life /
but the papers I followed were filled with murder, mystery and strife

How England suffered without my dear Holmes /
Man’s inhumanity to Man has filled many tomes

But suddenly he appeared in my consulting room one fine day /
more healthy then many of my patients – I fainted dead away

He swiftly revived me and implored my forgiveness /
faking death and wandering the world was a very time-consuming business

Sherlock Holmes Professor Moriarty Reichenbach Fall

Moriarty he had cast like Satan into that fearful abyss /
of the final battle there was no-one to witness

As victor he emerged and hid from the face of all /
the unsung hero of the Reichenbach Fall

His return was a triumph for the Good and the Right /
more enemies and more wrongs awaited for him to fight

Let it never be said that he was a fraud, a freak or a fake /
to assume evil intention on his part would be the gravest mistake

The wheel of time turns, the ages come and go /
yet he and I still live as our stories change and grow

The East Wind is still blowing and England grows dark /
but in the heart of Holmes there flares a defiant white spark

A hero with the angels, a man of true honor and grace /
let no man be deceived by that cold look on his face

The Great Detective is as alive and beloved as ever before /
if you ever have a problem come call at his door

The Game’s always afoot and Sherlock is always on the scent /
come whatever may he will never relent

In 221B Baker Street we will forever abide /
I have chronicled our adventures so that hope may never fade

Though we are beset by danger and death from both war and crime /
we remain truly and faithfully yours – both now and for all time

- written by sloanee Jensen
Date: 12/19/2014

Sherlockian Holmesian

Sherlock Holmes as one of angels

Sherlock Holmes as one of angels
Article by sloanee Jensen

Sherlockian Holmesian

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