I was watching Sherlock last week – the TV series shot in London. If you’re living in London or you’re planning to visit it soon, you should definitely watch this. It made me wonder if an explosion would start right in the building behind me, if someone was going to be shot from a roof, and other ordinary things like these (perhaps I’m a little paranoiac, or most probably I just have too much imagination, plus I’m bored). Actually a similar situation happened when I arrived in this town where I’m going to spend most of my summer: it reminds me of Miss Marple’s village. For those of you who don’t know, miss Marple is an intelligent old lady from some of Agatha Christie’ novels, who solves murders and crimes that happen in her village. I was tempted to tell an elderly couple that lives near me about the resemblance, but I changed my mind in the last second – I guess it’s not quite a proper thing to say, the fact that you can easily see something bad happening in the area.

But anyway, back to Sherlock. The episode was The Hound of Baskerville, based on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s novel, which is one of the only two Sherlock Holmes novels I’ve read. So the plot was not unknown to me, but I still enjoyed it, ‘cuz my memory is not that good when it comes to remembering details from one of the hundreds novels and stories that I’ve ever read. There was something that Sherlock says, after confronting a situation that seemed supra-natural. ‘My body’s betraying me. Interesting, yes. Emotions.’ – he was shaking, something very unusual for such a great detective, to shake from fear. And I remembered that quote when something similar happened to me, later.

I suppose that indeed all of us had moments when the mind couldn’t control the body – something serious, like fainting, or more usual, like shivering from cold. But this one was something quite new to me. I was walking through the town centre, where some live band or something was performing in a backyard of a restaurant. I didn’t really pay much attention to it. Actually I only heard the last few notes of a song, while passing by. At least I assume I’ve heard them. It happens to me quite a lot, unfortunately, to meet someone new, and forget their name after one second. Or well, I can’t use ‘forget’, ‘cuz ‘forget’ means that you knew it once, while in this case the name never enters my mind. So, I’ve heard the notes, but didn’t particularly pay attention to them. I just made a few more steps, until I blinked, and I realised something wasn’t right. I could feel my eyes slowly being filled with tears.

What’s happening? I blink again, keeping the tears in my eyes instead of allowing them to start flowing on my cheeks – I am in the middle of a crowd, after all. And I suddenly remember the song that has just finished. I can suddenly label those last few notes that my body recognised before my memory did. The kind of notes that feel as if someone touches specific strings of an inner guitar… and you just can’t resist them. And if it brings you memories, the intensity is even stronger – you can’t run from your memories, can you? My body is betraying me, indeed... And that’s not how I used to be, that’s not the way I want to react, that’s not the shape of my heart…