With “My Sherlock” we arrive at the end of the 11-poem odyssey that is Sherlock Suite. It is a quiet good-bye to the era of black doors, black cabs, black coats and dark turns. It is a quiet sigh as you glance for the final time from Euston Station to the right, where North Gower Street is more Baker than Baker street ever was.
Good-bye, magical and cruel London.
And he is right. Good-bye, Sherlock. Next week, there is always another obsession waiting.