The Bad Boys of Baker Street: The Sherlock Holmes Museum

[dropcap1]I[/dropcap1] recently found myself overseas in London for a few days (don’t ask questions. My life’s dope, I do dope shit) and decided to see some sights. Now when I say see some sights, I’m not talking about Big Ben. Nah, homie I don’t even fuck with time like that. I’m not talking about London Bridge, I only fuck with Nash Bridges you feel me. I’m going to see those 100% fiction based sights. You get where I am coming from. You hear that and are saying to yourself, “Oh, he must be talking that Hogwarts. He probably going to the Hogwart’s 9 3/4 platform.”

Nope, I’m good homie. I was never into Harry Potter that deep…I mean a dude does want to find the sorting and discover what house I’d be, because I believe I’m Hufflepuff straight up and fucking down, so dude got to know once and for all. However that’s for another trip. Nah, If I’m in London then you already know what I gotta see. I gotta see the London MVP. The king of fiction overseas. My man that was solving cases back in the day with just his observational skills and logic. The dude that was partnered with the best doctor and ex- military man to do it. That’s like having guile and Jessie Williams from Grey’s Anatomy combined into one. I am of course talking about Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson, characters created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Watson and Holmes were the badest mutha fuckas on Baker Street. When Sherlock rocked his deerstalker cap and Watson put on the bowler hat (like it was a Victorian e…