May 22 2025
Today I celebrate my 43rd birthday, and with it, the beginning of a personal challenge: to read and reflect on a meaningful selection of books between now and my 44th birthday. I've decided to begin this journey with A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. There’s a symbolic poetry to this choice—not only is it the first story ever written about the iconic detective Sherlock Holmes, but I also happen to share a birthday with the author himself. It feels only right to honor the start of this literary adventure with a nod to that synchronicity.
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was a man of many dimensions: a British writer and physician whose influence spans genres and generations. He is most famously remembered as the creator of Sherlock Holmes, arguably the most recognizable fictional detective in literary history. But his work didn’t stop at fiction. Doyle also wrote serious treatises on politics, war, and historical subjects, and later in his life, he became an ardent spiritualist, advocating for belief in the supernatural with the same intensity he once reserved for rational deduction. This duality—the man of science who later pursued the spiritual—makes him all the more intriguing as a figure.
I’ve long been aware of Sherlock Holmes as a cultural icon. Even if you’ve never cracked the spine of one of Doyle’s novels, chances are you still know who Holmes is: the deerstalker hat, the pipe, the sharp mind, the icy demeanor. His persona has been reimagined endlessly in film, television, and literature. Yet despite this cultural saturation, A Study in Scarlet is the first Sherlock Holmes novel I’ve ever read. There’s something special about encountering such a well-known figure in his original form, unfiltered by adaptation.
What immediately struck me was how vividly drawn both Holmes and Dr. John Watson are, even in their earliest appearances. Holmes, with his quirks and startling powers of deduction, commands attention. Yet Watson is far more than a passive observer or sidekick—he is intelligent, principled, and reflective, and it’s through his eyes that we experience Holmes’s brilliance. Their dynamic is rich with tension and fascination, and it’s easy to see why this pairing has endured for over a century.
It’s well-documented that Doyle based Holmes on one of his former professors, Dr. Joseph Bell, who impressed Doyle with his seemingly supernatural powers of observation and inference. Bell’s methods—piecing together precise conclusions from subtle physical clues—inspired much of Holmes’s deductive style. Watson, meanwhile, is plausibly a stand-in for Doyle himself. Like Watson, Doyle was a physician who served during wartime. While Doyle never confirmed this explicitly, the parallels are difficult to ignore. Watson’s steady, observant nature and medical background serve as a perfect narrative counterbalance to Holmes’s rapid-fire deductions and social aloofness.
Reading the first few chapters, I was particularly struck by Holmes’s personality traits—his social awkwardness, intense focus, unusual interests, and somewhat erratic emotional responses. From my perspective as a neurodivergent individual, these characteristics feel deeply familiar. Holmes’s behaviors align with what we might now recognize as signs of autism or other forms of neurodivergence: a strong preference for logic and pattern over emotion, difficulty interpreting or engaging with social norms, and an encyclopedic knowledge of subjects he finds relevant, while completely disregarding others he deems irrelevant.
At one point, Holmes makes an analogy that I found especially compelling. He compares the mind to an attic—a finite space where every new fact displaces an old one. As such, he insists that one should be selective in what they choose to store in this mental attic. “The capacity of the brain is limited,” he says, “so we must prioritize what is truly useful.” This philosophy, while controversial, offers insight into Holmes’s unique prioritization of knowledge, and perhaps also his detachment from social conventions. He isn't disinterested in people per se—he simply filters the world through a utilitarian logic that values information strictly in terms of utility. As a neurodivergent reader, I resonate with this metaphor. Many of us live in a world that expects us to absorb and adapt to norms that feel irrelevant or overwhelming. Holmes’s “attic” offers a kind of justification, even if not a universally accepted one, for focusing mental energy where it serves us best.
Watson, in contrast, is more grounded, socially aware, and emotionally attuned. His analytical mind is steady and rational, and yet he’s frequently startled by Holmes’s uncanny leaps of logic. Their intellectual chemistry is part of what makes the story so engaging: Holmes dazzles, while Watson humanizes. He serves not only as narrator but as a surrogate for the reader—questioning, skeptical, and fascinated. Their dialogue is crisp, their differences stark, and their mutual respect palpable, even if tinged with occasional irritation.
As I read, I am reminded that this story is more than just a mystery—it’s the birth of a legendary partnership and an invitation into a unique way of thinking. It asks us to look closer, to listen more carefully, to understand that beneath the surface of what seems obvious, there may lie something astonishing. It’s a fitting beginning for a year-long journey through books, where I hope to learn, reflect, and discover not only the stories within the pages but also the thoughts they awaken in me.
This post is also available on my Substack. A spoiler-filled version is available exclusively to paid subscribers. Margins and Metaphors | Jaana Humlie | Substack
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