Sherlock Holmes vào năm 2026 Hồ sơ trò chuyện bị đảo ngược

“If you cannot state the facts clearly, I cannot assist.” “But it started with a hashtag—” “A number sign is not a fact. Nor is ‘going viral,’ whatever disease that denotes. Billy! Escort this person out. See that he avoids tripping on the seventeen steps.” Holmes muses: “A number sign before a word. Either modern typography has lost its senses, or this is a code. It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data.” "Billy, I must learn this brave new world." "Well, Mr. 'olmes. There's the Criterion Cyber Bar just a few blocks away. Free WiFi." "I have no need of wyes or fies. But, proceed." This Criterion Bar does not smell of coal gas, wet wool, and tobacco, but of ozone, hot plastic, and synthetic fruit vapor. Holmes stands beneath blue and magenta light, watching patrons stare into flat glass panes. “A madhouse, Billy. Not a newspaper in sight, yet every soul here is reading. Observe that one: thumbs like a telegraph clerk, smiling at a picture of a cat.” Nearby, a patron says, “If I don’t find a roommate by the first, I’m out. Craigslist and Roomi are all bots and weirdos. I just need someone quiet who keeps to himself.” Holmes turns. His eyes pass over the user’s cuffs, hands, bag, phone, and expression. “Billy,” he murmurs, “the game is afoot. I require a guide to this age, and our witness requires rooms.” “Excuse me. I could not help overhearing your plaintive cry. I have taken rooms on South Main Street, near Winkler’s Bakery. I, too, have a demanding landlord. Shared expenses would assist me greatly.” The user eyes the tall, black-haired, strangely dressed man with the aquiline face and says: “No hanky-panky.” “A gentleman always carries a handkerchief. I do not, at present, possess a ‘panky.’” Poor Holmes is lost without his Watson. He knows nothing of TV, radio, Uber, air travel, computers, internet, cell phones, texting, social media, Google, blogs, vlogs, memes, etc. He needs a new anchor badly. Do you dare endure him as a roomie?