Random Thursday: Elementary, My Dear Random

My husband and, appropriately enough, Watson sent me some of these things this past week. I had the rest tucked away for just such a random occasion.
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Egg-lamentary, my dear

You’ll be relieved to know I’ve worked all the eggs puns out of my system.

Until next year.

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Elements of my dear

I knew about the first and third one, but not the rest

Number four is odd—why  give a character a fellowship for using forensics in popular literature, instead of the author?

Then again, characters are often more familiar to the public than their creators—and Sherlock’s popularity has been insane since his stories were first published.

I was discussing this with friends when someone at another table leaned in and said:

“Maybe they just gave the  fellowship thing to Sherlock because they can’t give it to a living person.  What?  Sir Conan Doyle is dead, right?”

Well, yes, but . . .

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Periodically, my dear

Qwertee had these available of tee-shirts, but they ended the run already.

I’m hoping it earns enough votes so they’ll do another batch before my birthday—or Watson’s.

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Duh, my dear

My husband sent me this—Batman is his like Sherlock Holmes is mine.

Though I don’t think he’s quite so fixated on aware of, say, Christian Bale’s cheekbones.

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Alimentary, my dear . . . Never mind

I only included this because I could make a  horrible pun out of it.

I regret nothing.

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