Why Sleuths Still Matter in Narrative Fiction
Comparing Sherlock Holmes, Gregory House, and Dale Cooper
Humans live in cycles of chaos and brief order. We always have, even when it seems like we have it together for a few years, some maniac comes up with modern schemes of cruelty and throws everything out of balance. The natural world unfolds according to a plan, Nature’s plan. Planets move in synchronized rotations and revolutions that obey observable and predictable paths through our solar neighborhood, as do galaxies and Time.
All biological life reproduces under similar cycles and predictable behaviors. But despite being one of these biological creatures, subject to the predictable behavior of animals enmeshed in time together, human beings have created a synthetic society based on ideas, which are the product of the curious way our minds interact over time. As impressive as our social evolution has been, producing the magic of technology that has steadily allowed our species to secure this world, our social order also breaks quite often. Humans live in a world of scarce resources with alternate uses, and these resources are subject to Natural Law but organized and secured by Human Law.
Human Laws are the product of the Human mind, quite out of line with Natural Law, but based on experience, circumstance, and best practices. Human Law is a flawed blend of reason, emotion, and historical memory set against Natural Law. Human Laws are incentives that sometimes breed bad behavior rooted in fear and greed. So, how can good Human Beings protect themselves from the greed of bad actors? Common Law should be aligned with the Common Good, securing and protecting our planet’s natural resources from greed and foul manipulation by people without empathy, filled with malice or (worse) despondence. To enforce the Law, we need investigators. The Sleuth is skilled at gathering clues, analyzing evidence, and deducing solutions to complex problems and puzzles. They work independently or as part of a law enforcement agency, private investigation firm, or other secret organizations. And some investigators save the world in fiction. James Bond is a detective spy. Columbo is an investigator whose superpower is ignored until he asks the last question. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Gregory House are both sleuths, but they differ markedly in moral character. And Dale Cooper carries the weight of our species’ sins on his shoulders through a demented dream that could eradicate all goodness from his soul. Sherlock Holmes was a brilliant drug addict. He filled his body with heroin and cocaine when he wasn’t chasing a case because he couldn’t manage the void of intellectual stimulation. Watson was Holmes’s right-hand man, who balanced Holmes’s self-destructive tendencies. Holmes loves Watson, and Watson loves Holmes, even though Holmes drives Watson crazy. What keeps them together is solving mysteries with what seems to others (including Watson) like magic. But Sherlock Holmes, the man, is always bigger than the mission. Holmes controls the analysis of the world around him. He can’t prevent murders and lesser crimes, but he can accurately diagnose the instigation and progression of destruction and catastrophe. Neither Holmes nor Watson can ease the impact of these awful cases they solve, but Sherlock’s deductions comfort the traumatized and work to bridge that gap between Human Law and Nature’s Law. Gregory House, on the other hand, hates all of his Watsons. Because he has been cast into eternal suffering with the muscle stroke that left his leg a dead appendage that he feels dying more every day, he passes that suffering to his medical investigators, whose solutions save lives in the most critical situations. And all those Watsons keep returning until they break against Greg House’s cruelty. House’s missions are always more significant than the man because, while the man is great in skill, he is small in character, low in morality, and in constant agonizing physical pain that he treats with drugs that amplify the worst of his nature. Both men, Holmes and House, are drug addicts, but for very different reasons. Both men are world-class detectives who solve puzzles of time, circumstance, and (often) bad behavior, which are cases no one else can solve. They bring order to chaos and help align Human Law and Human Behavior with Natural Law.
Then we come to Dale Cooper, a Cosmic Detective who enters a crime against all that’s good in Human nature. A seemingly loving father rapes and murders his beautiful daughter, and it happens in a small town in the Pacific Northwest that is host to a tribe of evil demi-gods that feed on human suffering. There is a crack unit in the FBI called The Blue Rose Task Force, and they were the X-Files before there was such a thing. They investigate paranormal situations that neither Natural Law nor Human Law can explain.
Cooper solves the mystery of who killed Laura Palmer, but the injustice, cruelty, and evil of her case drive him mad. He gets caught in a psychic trap that locks him into a demented dream that he barely escapes from (my reading - yours may be different, and that’s awesome).
Solving the mystery isn’t enough for Cooper. He doesn’t have Sherlock’s ability to detach himself from the suffering and cruelty he has witnessed. Dale Cooper doesn’t have House’s ability to turn off his morality and empathy to solve the crime and save the life. Cooper must bear witness to the life that evil forces and actions took.
Cooper remains a prisoner in his mind for twenty-five years of dream time. He walks through many layers of dreams, many of which feel like memories. Eventually, Cooper becomes aware that an evil force has invaded his psyche and seeks to eradicate goodness from his soul. From that revelation, Cooper begins a journey back to zero, aligned with Natural Law. This is the story told in Twin Peaks: The Return.
The fictional Sleuth is essential to read about and watch on screen. They encourage us to look at life and trauma with a deeper set of eyes and a more expansive mindscape. Sherlock Holmes has his Mind Palace. Greg House has his six-string guitar. And Dale Cooper has his cherry pie and coffee. These quirky but brilliant characters bring order to chaos, which is the point of Human Law. But they also suffer because they are Human. We can learn much empathy from what they lack and nobility in what they do. As with our parents, our job as decent and moral people is to model good behavior and mitigate bad behavior.
And it is important to lean into art to develop our empathy and shape our behaviors to align with the Common Good. Someone innocent is murdered or damaged by suffocating trauma every minute of every day this Earth spins. How can we possibly overcome injustice and suffering? And will we ever find consistent collective joy together at the same time in this life? Does one person’s joy require another person’s suffering? These are mature questions to ask ourselves, and we must do it through art because these questions are certainly not being asked and answered by our Education systems, Media, Politicians, or Religions.
Shouldn’t collective joy in life be the birthright of all Human Beings? Unfortunately, we haven’t reached that goal yet, so there must be people who bring justice to the wronged and unlucky. The Sleuth is the great equalizer in fiction, and until everyone smiles simultaneously, the Sleuth will never go out of style in our storytelling.