My sister got into trouble at school for refusing to do her work. As this isn’t like her at all, I asked her about it. She told me they’d been asked to write about what they want to do when they’re older, and she had said she couldn’t because she doesn’t know what she wants to be yet.
“Couldn’t you just guess, or write down some ideas?” I asked her.
She looked at me like I’m stupid, something she has managed to get down to a fine art over the years. “I can’t guess Brit. I don’t know what I’m best at yet. I can’t do something that I’m not the best at.”
“You don’t have to be the best at something to have it as a job” I told her “I’m going to be a teacher but that doesn’t mean I think I’m going to be the best teacher there is.”
“It’s different for you though,” she said, giving me The Look again. “You’re a Watson.”
I had no idea what that meant, so she sat me down and explained it to me. There are, according to my sister, two types of people in the world; Sherlocks and Watsons. Sherlocks are the people who do great things and are great leaders and get written about in history books. Explorers and composers and inventors. Watsons are the people who stand behind them, just outside of the limelight, supporting and encouraging their Sherlock and helping them reach their full potential. “There’s nothing wrong with being a Watson, Watsons are incredibly important. No Sherlock would be any good without a Watson helping them out and keeping them sane.They just can’t do it alone.”
“And you’re a Sherlock?” I asked her, and she nodded.
“That’s why I have to find out what I’m best at. Then my Watson can make sure I’m fantastic at it.”
“Am I your Watson, then” I asked, “or is it the person you marry?”
She though about it for a minute then decided she wasn’t sure that was how it worked. “I think you find your proper Watson through the thing that you’re best at. And you don’t have to marry them, the original Sherlock and Watson weren’t married, but you have to be really good friends because you have to spend lots of time with them. You’ll find your Watson through being a teacher I think. You’ll be a mini-Watson to everyone, but there’ll be one person that you inspire to do something really good, and that’ll be your Sherlock.”
"Does every Watson have a Sherlock? Are there enough to go around?”
At this she gave me a really pitting look and stroked my arm. “Don’t worry, I think it works like there’s someone for everyone and you have to meet them to be great. I’m sure you’re somebody’s Watson.”
And then she changed the subject, more concerned with what was for dinner and whether or not it would snow, oblivious to the fact that most adults don’t form theories that deep.
I love this story to pieces so I’m reblogging it.
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