SECRET 5

Feed Your Passion

Our chambers were always full of chemicals and of criminal relics which had a way of wandering into unlikely positions, and of turning up in the butter-dish or in even less desirable places.

—“THE MUSGRAVE RITUAL”

 

 

 

 

 

Sherlock Holmes never apologized for being weird. He never tried to justify his numerous eccentricities or defend his decision to become a self-employed detective who worked out of his home—which, in uptight Victorian London, was a rather unusual occupation to say the least.

We have already read about how Holmes beat on cadavers with a stick to understand how bruising occurred after death. In “The Musgrave Ritual,” it was revealed that he also liked to pass the time by shooting holes in the wall of 221B Baker Street with a pistol, and stored his tobacco in the toe of a Persian slipper. And in the opening lines of “The Adventure of Black Peter,” he surprises Watson early one morning by returning from the butcher’s shop with a spear under his arm. He calmly mentions that he had been busy stabbing a dead pig with the spear to work out a theory on how someone might have been killed. Did he try to hide these bizarre actions? Not on your life. In fact, the Holmes adventures abound with examples of the master detective merrily following his muse without giving a second thought to anyone’s opinions (including those of his clients). Think of all the time he saved by not having to explain himself! He just went about his business, supremely confident that he was doing the work he was born to do. Nothing was going to stop him.

The legendary science fiction writer Ray Bradbury—award-winning author of countless short stories (one collection is The Martian Chronicles) and classic novels like Fahrenheit 451—faced a similar challenge when he was a young boy growing up in the 1930s. He loved to collect “Buck Rogers” comic strips from the newspaper every morning, and thrilled at the interstellar exploits of the main character; he was already dreaming of the stars. But his friends started making fun of him. In fact, they razzed him about it so much that one day, desperate to fit in, he ripped his entire collection to shreds. And then promptly burst into tears.

“I started thinking, ‘Whose funeral is it?’” he told a reporter years later. “Then I said, ‘Fool, it was your future you killed.’ If you have a passion, do it. If people doubt you, they are not your friends.”

So he went right back to collecting “Buck Rogers” comic strips and jumping headlong into the things he really enjoyed doing—the very things that would build a foundation for his future success. The rest is history.

Conan Doyle wrote almost nothing about Holmes’s upbringing, so we’re left to guess at how he evolved into a single-minded individual capable of tuning out the sneers and laughter of mainstream society. But perhaps it was as simple as Holmes deciding that he was going to be happy regardless of what anyone said.

Above all else, by focusing on his singular passion and ignoring the opinions of other people, Sherlock Holmes proved that substance wins out over style every single time.

Holmes was a master detective. He achieved this status through an incredible amount of hard work—through obsessing over the details and vacuuming up every bit of relevant knowledge that he could lay his hands on. In the end, he had Scotland Yard at his beck and call. He was the man who could solve the unsolvable crimes. Members of royalty personally visited him to ask for help. As Watson noted in “The Naval Treaty,” “To my certain knowledge he has acted on behalf of three of the reigning houses of Europe in very vital matters.”

And yet Holmes lived and worked out of a respectable but somewhat shabby little town house on Baker Street. He didn’t care about appearances. He had no secretary. He didn’t invest a lot of money in nice furniture and the latest fashions. He didn’t try to impress his clients with outward displays of wealth and success—but they continued to knock down his door, begging for just a few minutes of his time.

Why? Because in the end, he knew that appearances don’t matter—results do.

If you’re just starting out, you may be tempted to “fake it till you make it”—to spend lots of money you don’t have on the latest tech gadgets, the best clothes, or that awesome apartment you can’t really afford. It’s a tempting shortcut. But Conan Doyle proved that you don’t need a lot of shiny trappings to succeed. He made sure that Holmes used the basic tools of the trade—a magnifying glass, a microscope, chemicals, some basic medical instruments—to work his miracles. Holmes was a genius, but a decidedly blue-collar one. He sweated his way to success.

A couple of bedrooms, a sitting room, some nice windows to let in the morning light. That’s all Holmes had, and all he needed.

Your talent is enough. Your passion is enough. Your knowledge is enough.

You are enough.