Soares' A Samba for Sherlock is to the Holmes-fandom-canon as JET's London Mamougai, right down to the great detective who can't deduce for beans and who breaks things in his clumsy rompings. Possibly useful the way London Mamougai is, to register how a foreign culture thinks (or doesn't think) of our pet literary archetype. Soares and his six pages of bibliography is doubtless talking about 19th century Brazil, not Holmes, which is fine if you're interested in 19th century Brazil. If not-- too many similar names of too many insufficiently characterized characters, so that I had to be reminded at the end of just who the murderer was, because his name sounded like that of two other characters who wander through the story.
And I have no use at all for sexually hysteric serial killers who murder young women. Why does no one ever write serial killers who murder millionaires?
However, semi-mobile again, I had x-rays of my knees and then, on a whim, ramen at the upscale ramen place that opened last year; which was pleasant enough, though I have no standards: I was not one who queued for an hour to get into those famous ramen houses in Kouenji, even when I lived there. Also the noodles were underdone for my tastes; shall stick to instant Thai rice noodles in future.