A Toast to Sherlock Holmes

Every January, hundreds of people from all over the world descend on Midtown Manhattan, don black tie and evening gowns, and attend an exclusive, invitation-only dinner to celebrate their mutual love of Sherlock Holmes. These are the Baker Street Irregulars, some of the most devoted literary aficionados on the planet. For many years, I’ve been among them—lawyers, doctors, teachers, actors, authors, executives, impressive professionals from every walk—all gathering as old and dear friends on this one evening each year. It’s serious business, and also profoundly silly. My favorite combination.

In the best tradition of secret societies, the precise details of the program are not for public consumption, but I can share that this year, I was invited to be part of it. It was my task to offer the toast to Sherlock Holmes, which was no small responsibility. I’ve written two Sherlock Holmes plays—Baskerville and Moriarty—as well as a comedy disguised as a Sherlock Holmes play—The Game’s Afoot—so Sherlock Holmes has been very good to me, and I wanted to do him justice. In writing my plays, I’ve come to know Holmes well, but the prospect of penning and delivering a three-minute toast to this crowd was ten times as daunting as premiering three full-length plays on the same subject. Fortunately, my comic twist on my toast went down well with the assembled. And I even got to embarrass my Haverford College roommate and fellow Irregular Bob Katz along the way.

For a more comprehensive look at the whimsical festivities that surround the Baker Street Irregulars annual dinner, I encourage you to read my friend Michael Dirda’s recent write-up in The Washington Post, and not just because he gave me a great review.