I may have walked past this plaque a dozen times and only last night did I read it. And promptly flew clean off the handle with glee.
It’s not 221B, which I’m led to understand never existed as a real location—Baker Street not reaching that far at the time Conan Doyle was writing. But it’s certainly as moody and elegant and right as you’d want it to be, isn’t it?
For those who wish to wander by the spot, the address is 2 Upper Wimpole Street, and the name was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.