December 10: "North Star" (from Riandra)

"But the Solar System!" I protested.

"What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently; "you say that we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make a pennyworth of difference to me or to my work."

— A Study in Scarlet

It was late in the evening and Holmes and I sat drowsily in the sitting room, reading. It was one of those frigid winter nights when the warmth of the fire and the inertia that comes from sitting for a long while in a comfortable chair made shuffling off to bed seem a less than enjoyable prospect, even once thick blankets and hot water bottles were taken into account.

At half past eleven, I roused myself, stretched, and crossed to the window. A few clouds drifted slowly across the night sky, much more visible than usual. Stars twinkled brightly in the frosty night, and a sliver of moon cast a weak pale light upon the street. "Seems it's so cold that even the smog has decided to migrate somewhere warmer."

Holmes gave a soft snort, then closed his own book and joined me at the window. He stared out at the night. "It certainly is unusually clear. And Polaris is particularly bright."

I could not help but scoff. "So you know how to name and locate North Star but you can't be bothered to remember that the Earth goes around the sun. Holmes, you're quite ridiculous."

"Watson, that is a different matter entirely," my friend protested, pacing back to the fireplace and clasping his hands behind his back. "Knowing how to locate Polaris could be the difference between navigating successfully out of a hostile wilderness and succumbing to death in it! I have stored away some good amount of survival knowledge in my brain-attic. Quite a practical matter, especially when a man is prone to making enemies, and sometimes very devious and resourceful ones at that." He stretched, then lay down upon his back on the settee and tucked his hands tucked behind his head. "Knowing that the earth goes around the sun is merely trivia."

"A fact foundational to an entire field of science is not mere trivia," I insisted, crossing the room to stand over him. "Knowledge of astronomy is foundational to understanding gravity, for example, which of course affects everything from the path of bullets and arrows to why it's very uncomfortable to hang upside down by one's ankles. And of course the tilt of the Earth's axis is essential to understanding the seasons."

Holmes rolled onto his side, propping up his head with a hand and quirking an eyebrow. "Seasons, Watson? Really, it makes no difference to me at all what causes them. I need not bother myself with the sky or what lies beyond. And as for gravity, I have a perfectly sound grasp of physics without involving any planetary bodies."

"The tides, then," I insisted, pacing to the window. "You must know that the Moon—" I gestured toward it with a flourish "—causes the tides. Understanding how they function could certainly be useful in your work, when a case brings you to the coast. And a celestial body rotating around our planet is inextricably linked with the entire Copernican theory!"

"You have yet to present me with a compelling argument, my dear Watson," he replied. "I need not understand what causes the tides to recognize the patterns they follow."

This whole argument felt like driving a wagon down an unpaved road, the wheels found the same old ruts, and the cart running the same way it always has.

"We shall simply have to agree to disagree," I said, with some reluctance. There was no out-arguing Sherlock Holmes, even when he was wrong.