A Dedication to Jeremy Brett

To Jeremy, Sherlock, and his followers, I toast to thee!

The editor wishes to apologies for the number of grammaric and spelling errors in this page. Please note that she did not wish to re-read this document for errors due to the mental and/or emotional factors. The editor was not in a comfortable state in first writing this account, but she did find it necessary that truth should be exposed after years of concealment. However this is NOT a full confession, there are indefinitely certain aspects in this account that the editor wished to avoid due to mental and/or emotional reasons. This is a confession that the editor shall finally reveal and is NOT recommended to the weak-hearted. Thank you for your understandment.

Last on 02 October 2000

"What's the meaning of it, Watson? What is the object is served by this circle of misery and violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is ruled by chance, which is unthinkable? But to what end? There is the great standing perennial problem to which human reason is as far from an answer as ever...(CARD)"

I can recollect those sentences precisely! Those were the final Holmesian sentences spoken by Jeremy Brett before MYSTERY!'s hostess, Diana Rigg, announced "a death in the family." Her words came to me upon 22 November 1995 -- Thanksgiving holiday. I was 14 years-young during at that date and such words were horrifying; my life changed completely and utterly. And yet I have heard my fair share of horrifying words. Yes, it was Jeremy Brett who turned me Sherlockian as, I later learned, he did for many more Sherlockians. His passing, on September 12, was tragic and heavily mourned by millions. He was the Sherlock Holmes; he was (and still is) my Sherlock Holmes! A part of myself died that day of Thanksgiving, when I heard the belated news. September was 3 months ago, why did I not know of it sooner? Of course, I know very well that we all die, nonetheless I mourned the great lost. Prehaps it was his time, yet 59 (which I later learned to be 61) is so young. It was my guilt that consumed me more -- the guilt of never being able to tell him about everything, nor to thank him for everything.

One should not blame oneself for these experiences, I know I yearned to issue my fully someday in the future. One should not blame oneself for the faults of mine which are not mine. Nevertheless I have keep it buried inside myself for nearly 5 years; I knew I would confess my means of "Why Jeremy Brett??" A question I have been often asked in variety of forms, yet I always hid the secrets behind until now. So, why Jeremy Brett?? Why does this man appeal to me? How did this man -- this actor -- to whom I never met, became so dear to me?? And how can I be so loyal to man, even after his death??? Simple, he saved my sanity, and very possibly my life.

I have only been taunted like any other being during youth; despite popular belief, words do hurt! I confess I was more than teased in my youth, I was severely -- very severely -- sexual-harassed by the time Holmes entered my life. I was out-numbered by over a dozen males, fellow undergraduates, constantly and daily. At the time, I never heard of the term "sexual-harassment", now it's the two most despised words in my dictionary. The school refused to assist to the problem. They always said, "We'll get back to you, don't worry. It's nothing." Yet it still came upon me and it got worse everyday, and still I received the same constant answer from the office. After 3 months of nothing, they finally snapped, "We don't deal with that!!!" My voice was never heard, never concerned them; I gave up the struggle. If one is ignorant to believe that the youth does not understand the effects of their actions, that very person is wrong -- ignorantly wrong! They knew precisely what they were doing, the effects of it, and the result it could have possibly taken toll...and they loved it!

I was stripped away from my dignity, my confidence, my soul, my very well-being! I could address those slanders and those deeds, as they point here and point there, say a cold remark, and laugh -- I can still hear them in the back of my skull! Nontheless if one could understand, I rather not write in detail of such things -- hopefully I never shall. I have suffered from "tame" harassment since I was 6-years-young; sexual-harassment, 12 years-young. I hate it; I despise that term with every fiber of my mind and more! I was suicidal in reason, in fact (though I can flip back my head and spit out a nervous laugh in order to his myself). I recollect that I brought an exaco-blade -- similar in form to a surgical scapula -- upon school grounds. If it was for protection or for suicidal wants, it made no difference during this time of madness and abuse. A tool that too sharp to hurt when it pierces through the flesh, I would know, I attempted it. Obviously, as I write now, the attempts failed, I may still have the scars upon my wrist -- I repressed it so well, I forgotten precisely where. This was when Jeremy's Sherlock Holmes stepped in...

Before my school-years, I recall encountering a gaunt, black-clad gentleman with a siren voice upon my local PBS channel. Time and time again, I have stumbled upon him throughout a span of various years. Despite the numerous encounters, I was unable to learn this man’s name, nor what he was, what he does; I never spied him for more than 10 minutes each! I remained blind until an outstretched for nearly a decade when I found finally encountered him in an out-of-town library.

Upon the library’s second floor stored a semi-varied collection of videos, among eleven etched "Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes." Jeremy Brett, what a familiar name? Curiosity overtook me, resulting in the viewing of SCAN. I was mesmerized by the film -- utterly so --- and I soon viewed all eleven -- a I recongised them! "I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the presence of one of the absolute fools in Europe...(TWIS)" There in those episodes, I found the elusive "gaunt, black-clad gentleman", Sherlock Holmes -- so unknowingly omnipresent in my life -- and this "Jeremy Brett," phenomenal! I rediscovered these singular individuals, and (perhaps it was due to some selfishness or need of some guidance) I would, by no means, part with them. Subsequently, it became one of the most momentous decisions in my life.

His Sherlock became my beacon of light in such a dark era -- bright light! His Sherlock became my instructor in the method of repressing emotions, a crucial technique of enduring the anguish. I could related to his torture so well, as if it was an understandment. I was ravenous for anything and everything I could have possibly find about these two persons. In less than six-month term, I read everything Canonical, that the library could grant, in original text and scholastic analysis. Yet despite the vast knowledge I acquired, I did not consider myself a true "Sherlockian" until roughly a year or two later, instead I considered myself a simple "fan." I remember I purchased my first Granada study that year, The Television Sherlock Holmes by Peter Haining (a marvelous book), I carried this treasure with me where ever I traveled. Over all my references of Sherlock Holmes (during that time), The Television was the only reference possessed of Jeremy. I wanted to kept Sherlock Holmes; I wanted to keep Jeremy close. During slanders and cold giggles of my classes, I would finger its binding delicately to comfirm that Sherlock and Jeremy was there. I felt they were...

Alas, the heavyhearted year of 1995 came about the corner when the news of Jeremy’s death raced into my ear on a supposably joyous Thanksgiving holiday. "September 12," that was a few months ago -- why did I not know of this sooner?? "Black moods" devoured my essence -- a lost my light! It turned to be one of the bleakest periods of my life; yet due to Holmes’s teachings, it allowed myself to restrain some suicidal tendencies (not all).

The depression was mournful -- I felt he died quite young, much to soon. Yet it was not precisely his death that irked me the most, it was the gulit. We, as living being, all die in our given time, but I never thanked him. I never had a chance to write him a letter nor knew the address to post it to. I was able to personally pour my emotions to him, to tell him how wonderful he was, how he helped me, everything. I knew exactly what I was going to say, how exactly I would say it! As long as he knew, I live without a face-to-face meeting -- all my secrets revealed. Now I shall nevermore have the chance to do so, never again. That was my gulit, it is a gulit that will plagued my conscience to my dying day...

The year of 1997 was a particular harsh in nature, again, the sexual-harassment was high -- higher than ever. Through repression, I retained my sanity (during the year’s starting) for two months -- harassment is one thing, "mild" assault is another! My disturbance in nature were obvious to family and friends. I glared silently at nothingness for hours, oblivous to my surroundings. I weeped several timebut I never explained. It was my troublings, not theirs; they need not to burren themselves for me, I do not want their pity, and the school did nothing; I felt I could have taken it all -- I was wrong... Then Jeremy's Sherlock Holmes stepped in again (this time with a little help)...

I survived by the kind letters of two Sherlockians to whom I consulted for an order with a concern over sending of cash for "The Brett Set" Postcards. They responded to the concern, there begun our correspondence, my first to a Sherlockian(s). Their letters delighted me -- two were in The Dancing Men code! One was send with the decipher in a seperate envelope, through the use of the Canon I methodically translated the sentences and to this day I still have not opened the enclosed decipher. Though I was not noted to their memory until some weeks later when I solved a numberal connumdrum. Despite the fact that we never met personally, I simply adored them! In fact, I affectionately refer to them as "My Sherlocks" -- rekindling the light, brighter than ever! Nevertheless they were completely unaware of their influence upon me that year, and I still methodically treasure those very letters to this day. I never thanked them (for I was uncertain on how to do so) -- conceivably now I have ability to by bring this tale to their attention. So if you both are reading, I thank you, "My Sherlocks," for everything! As simple as letters were, "it has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important...(CASE)"

In all honesty, I did not deem myself a "Sherlockian" until late 1996 nor a "Brettian until early 1997 (when Sherlockiana/Brettiana and personal suffering was at a mountainous peak)! My parents obliged and established the Internet in February 1998 (for that I am thankful) as a rapid result, I have "wired" many fellow Sherlockians and Brettish devoteés -- as thus, Sherlockia shot through the roof (and I never slid down off that chimney since)!

I wish no pity or remorse due to my past affections; it is over and gone. Nonetheless, those abusers were, in some sense, teachers who assisted in my climb in the world Sherlockiana and Brettiana, however do understand, I am rather ungrateful to these teachers. They isolated and ripped me apart. Psychologically isolation and abuse is known to effect the personlity, and it is very true -- both good and bad.

To me, Sherlock Holmes and Jeremy Brett are not a hobby, nor should be wrongfully described as an obsession, but more of a mission, both in passion and in veneration. It is a mission committed to learn all, to understand all, and the carry a very "singular" responsibility. I admit I never asked for that particular responsibility, although it bore on my shoulder when I first glittered my eyes upon the Canonical pages and when I first popped the library's video inside my VCR. It is the responsibility to uphold and pass both Mr. Brett’s and Mr. Holmes’s representations to a new generation (my generation), moreover through another millennium. I willful oblige this responsibility with no regret whatsoever. I believe it may be the best possible mean I can presently render to express my most appreciative thanks to these two treasures of my soul. "The air of London is sweeter for my presence...(FINA)"

Diane N. Tran ("Brettish Sherlockian")
Editor of A Dedication to Jeremy Brett
<brettish140@hotmail.com>
© 12 September 1998