Sherlock Holmes

I've recently bought a copy of The Complete Sherlock Holmes, and as a result I am very, very angry.

Angry that no one ever told me how awesome Sir Arthur Conan Doyle was. I mean, I should have guessed: how can you not be awesome with a name like "Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle"?

I'm about 200 pages in, which leaves me near the end of the fourth story, "The Red-Headed League", and it's just splendid. It's like having all the awesomeness of Dr. Gregory House in one convenient, easy-to-carry 1,122-page tome. Get it? Holmes = Homes = Houses = House. OH SNAP.

I can't even be rude about this. There's nothing at all negative to say about these stories. I could read them forever, and at this rate, I will be. That's one problem with fantastic authors who are also very prolific writers - as soon as I start, I have to read everything they have ever written, and then everything ever written about them, and then everything ever written by anybody who even looks like them. Did William Howard Taft ever write anything?

Separated at birth? You be the judge.