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Looking the other night, an episode of the series that he has cooked up nicely Granada, I realized that good old Sherlock Holmes, Jeremy Brett which lent his stature and class crazy A whole class British, could well be more admirable for having been, at least once in his life, in its fully imagined life hero, his talent as a logician in the service of a lawsuit that was not intended, This time, the arrest of one of these criminals rather fine-fly have planned everything except ... the impossible Sherlock Holmes for his great engineering officer for the facility, almost too easy, he has to resolve the investigations even more difficult.

Indeed, in this episode where a young man of good family had instructed him to find the thief, a thief, to steal a document stamped secret defense that he was in charge, had both , damaged his honor and perfect gentleman risked the safety of the state, the detective, the peculiar cackles and worship of self assumed, had, after long questioned and listened to this sponsor that since the incident had not left his bed, pulled, no reason, a rose from a vase and said that this resplendent in the vase life ended quietly, words imbued with poetry, a poetry rather odd to have been pronounced by a man for whom one plus one never made three: "How wonderful a rose. There is nothing in this world that is more attractive than the religion of flowers. It can be transformed into exact science by the reasoner but for me the greatest proof of the goodness of Providence is in the flowers. Only goodness makes us love life and I am sure the hope of man lies in the flowers. " Sometime later, the police officer to handle and methods would go sit under a tree. To keep your eyes perfectly closed, though the English countryside to spread out before him like a pit would have drawn an angel gardener, would have led anyone to not choose to look inside, we could have sworn that the little phrase so poetic articulated in the lounge of the young gentleman still echoed in his mind.

Intrigued by the Sherlock Holmes of pure metaphysics, less Cartesian than usual, and be at least as much as was Dr. Watson when, witnessed the scene, he saw his companion of twenty years directing, con spirito almost religioso, to a window, as if the little rose he held in his hand was guiding him towards her, as if the light that gave off more light called again, I promised myself to go the next day, reading Sherlock Holmes in the text of Sir Conan Doyle to see if he had not been betrayed.
After reading this, I must conclude that for both film and literature had gone well together, the only small alteration found is a sharp, the writer was much more verbose than the writer of the series to support there as the holy light in the flowers.
In fact, their beauty is so useless that it would almost see between their petals to a nectar that is not really the bees, or even to endorse a day of greater faith, e golly, but of course it is expensive to another detective well known to respond, as people sharing the same lot of ways, this Sherlock Holmes, for once, had put his damn talent in the service of a logician very personal quest.