Mystery unfolds at Sherlock Holmes movie - WMC Action News 5 - Memphis, Tennessee

Mystery unfolds at Sherlock Holmes movie

(Source: iPhone) (Source: iPhone)

A fun work on non-fiction written by Joe Birch:

We enjoyed easing back in the theater’s luxurious recliner seats to watch Mr. Holmes, a must see film for Sherlock lovers like my wife.

One of our sons nicknamed our East Memphis movie house the “Ridgeway Retirement Center” for its clientele of seasoned citizens that our AARP cards say we’re on the verge of becoming.

Ian McKellen masterfully plays Sherlock in his dotage.

Dr. Watson is long gone as the story goes and the 93-year-old Sherlock’s new sidekick is Roger, a bright lad who helps the legendary detective solve a nagging mystery right in their backyard.

Roger, played brilliantly by Milo Parker, steals the movie with wit and more than a little Sherlock-like intellect.

Roger’s mother, Sherlock’s melancholy housekeeper named Mrs. Munro, is an unhappy soul as she mopes from cleaning to the cooking that Sherlock detests.

It is a relief to the audience to see the resplendent Laura Linney offer her sparkling smile, but that only comes deep in the story after Sherlock deduces Mrs. Munro’s bright mood and dressed up appearance are linked to her planned escape from his employ.

Beekeeping serves as a vehicle for one mystery to be solved in Jeffrey Hatcher’s splendid screenplay based on the book, "A Slight Trick of the Mind" by Mitch Cullin.

The story starts with the aged sleuth’s return from a trip to Japan to his retirement home where Roger and his mother struggle along in service to the greatest private eye of all time.

It is unsettling to see an ancient Sherlock without use of his once agile mind.  But ultimately, Sherlock discovers that you can teach an old dog new tricks.

It turns out beekeeping is an extremely popular pastime in the United Kingdom and a growing one in the Mid-South. More than a few of my friends at church and the community have revealed they have taken up the hobby. Many report their attendance at Bee Club meetings where, like the great Sherlock Holmes, they uncover the mystery of what might be killing beloved honeybees. But I digress. As the credits rolled for Mr. Holmes, this reporter didn’t need a magnifying glass to see that the Sherlock-loving significant other enjoyed the story.

But a new mystery dawned as we stepped into the lobby light.

It was the case of the missing iPhone. Returning to our seats, a thorough search of our recliner and floor area ensued. Unsuccessful, we alerted the manager on duty, who turned on the house lights after the last showing of the film on Saturday night.

Our mood became as dark as the black chair, black floor and black Otter box that encased the missing piece of technology. We retraced our steps.

As Sherlock might do, my mind flashed back to 9:04 p.m., the last moment the iPhone was checked to see how much time there was before the 9:20 showing of Mr. Holmes.

So, we knew the phone was in the building. But where? 

Did I somehow discard it with the paper towels used to wipe of my hands in the restroom? It was one possibility. We searched the seats again and reluctantly left the theater without the rectangular Apple product that lives in my front pocket most of the time.

We planned to return the next day to resume the search, but there was church and then Sunday afternoon golf with our sons, who have suddenly taken to the game like my friends have been buzzing with their passion for bees.

After golf, we broke bread at a Sunday evening dinner that was lovingly prepared by the Sherlock fan who lives at our house. Now and then, I went to check the phone at its usual recharging post only to remember it was missing.

How would this reporter function sans the device that contains countless contacts and their main means of contacting me? A sense of dread hung like a cloud as I mourned the iPhone’s disappearance and the hassles associated with reestablishing contact with literally hundreds of people.

We checked the movie schedule and knew what time the theater would be empty after the last showing of Mr. Holmes so that we could resume the iPhone search. One of my sons accompanied me to the theater and the manager flipped on the lights.

My 22-year-old son entered my phone number, e-mail address, and Apple password into his iPhone and engaged the “Find My iPhone” function. The missing iPhone responded instantly, playing a beeping sound. 

The manager dug his hand deep into the seat’s side steel slot, “This is where they usually end up,” the movie man announced as he freed the missing device from its day at the movies.

The rescued iPhone’s small screen reported, “A sound was played on Joe Birch’s iPhone.” 

“Excellent,” I thought.

“Elementary,” said my son’s eyes.

My Millennial gave his Baby Boomer father the look his generation reserves for less-than-tech-savvy parents who discover that the “Find My iPhone” function really works, no detectives required.

We can mark this one “case closed.”  

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