Toast to the Encyclopaedia of Reference, by Liza Potts

In Holmes’ collection, patiently awaiting the signal
Caretaker of information that links our past and caches our present
Curating clues that help us connect our community
The mind palace realized in zeros and hums
Ready to be called up as at its address at 2-2-1

Toast to Kitty Winter, By Rebekah Small

(Adapted from Sonnet 116)

Let me not to these Sherlockians,
admit reluctance. Love is not love
Which pales when it debauchery finds,
Or muffles with the guise of morality.
For who trusted this temptress, this hellcat, this siren?
It was our great detective, ever resolute.
And when Winter’s cold winds blew vitriol through the garden
The only surprise was that it wasn’t her boot.

Toast to Sophy Kratides, By Jessica Gibbons

To Sophy, whose plight intrigued both Sherlock and Mycroft.
Who travelled from Greece to England with the scoundrel Latimer.
Whose love for her brother saw beyond sticking plaster.
And whose revenge was complete with a knife in her captors.
Some may claim that it was a quarrel between the men and she played no part
But our Great Detective knows that these murders were the Grecian girl’s art

Bob Wilks’ Jeopardy toast to Mycroft

I’m raising a glass to Mycroft,

To Sherlock, both brother and foil.

Who could have foreseen,

Way back in Eighteen-

Ninty-three when created by Doyle,


That Mycroft would be so remembered,

Some hundred-and-twenty years hence, 

That his name would be

On a show on TV, 

Hosted by that most genial of gents?


Mr. Alex Trebec gave the answer!

And both Charlotte and I had to gloat, 

For the contestants blew it,

‘Cause, none of them knew it.

Final Jeopardy was, and I quote,


“This character first appeared in

‘The Adventure of the Greek Interpreter’,

an 1893 story in London’s Strand Magazine.”


The question, then, was, “Who was Mycroft?”

And our knowledge we surely purloined,

From all of our seatings 

In these very meetings,

And we’re awfully glad that we joined!