One of my favorite things about Holmes and Watson is that they are such an “in every universe” kind of duo. Wherever, whenever, they’re always together: they’re platonic, they’re romantic, they’re women, they’re mice, but with that little “and” between them, every time. You can write a story with just one of them, but the absence of the other is so tangible that the void becomes part of the story itself. In the past, present, and future, in every part of the globe, it’s Holmes and his Watson; it’s Watson and Holmes. Those two names twined together, two parts of one whole: that little “and” is a poem about what binds human souls.

















