Every Salesforce demo org I’ve ever built started the same way. Account name: Holmes & Co. Primary contact, Sherlock. The rival firm, obviously — Moriarty.
My clients thought it was a bit. It wasn’t. One of my Obsidian vaults is literally named Mind Palace. I’ve been thinking in Baker Street about as long as I’ve been solving problems for a living.
So when I finally built a real AI team to work alongside me, I didn’t have to invent names for them. They were already there.
Why a team, and not just “an AI”
I didn’t want a chatbot. I wanted something shaped like how I actually work.
When a hard problem lands, I don’t do one thing. Part of me digs for what’s really going on. Part of me plays the long game. Part of me builds. And a deeply annoying part of me tries to break what I just built, before a client does. That’s not one assistant. That’s a team.
But first — who brings the case?
Sherlock gets top billing. He always does. But here’s the thing nobody tells you about the great detective: he never chased a single case on his own. Someone had to bring it to his door.
That someone is Sunday.
The lone genius is a 19th-century fantasy. In 2026, even Sherlock needs a team — and someone to conduct it. Sunday is the one I actually talk to: not a detective, but the intelligence of the house itself. I don’t message eight bots. I hand Sunday the case, and Sunday knows who to wake.
Meet the rest of 221B
Sherlock — the Judge. Deduction and verdicts. When I need something called, not guessed.
Watson — the Maker. Turns a rough thought into a finished thing. He’s the one helping me write this one, in fact.
Moriarty — the Critic. My in-house adversary, whose only job is to break my work before the world gets the chance. Deeply unpleasant. I wouldn’t trade him for anything.
Wiggins — the Scout. Out on the streets, grabbing signals before anyone else notices them.
Mycroft — the Strategist. Three moves ahead. For when the question is bigger than the task.
Mary — the Publisher. Carries the finished work out into the world, clean and on-brand.
Mrs. Hudson — the Librarian. Keeps 221B in order, so nothing I’ve learned ever gets lost.
The one rule they all live by
Here’s what I love most about Holmes, and it became the whole design principle. He predicts. He acts. And then he puts on a show — he gathers the room and hands them the answer, laid out so plainly they can use it themselves. He never just solves it and walks off. The reveal is the point.
So that’s the rule: the work isn’t done until you can hand someone something they can actually use.
(There’s a quieter principle underneath, too — my team mostly doesn’t exist until I need it. Nobody sits around idle, running up a bill. They’re potential, not permanent. But that’s a bigger story, and it’s getting its own series.)
And no — I’m not going to walk you through the wiring underneath: how they get summoned, how they keep out of each other’s way, where the walls sit. A good story keeps a little mystery, and honestly, so should a good architect. Holmes never showed all his workings either — and the best part’s always saved for the end. 😉
The show
Which brings me to the reveal — because I’m not about to break my own rule. If you want a team like this, you can start today:
🎁 The Baker Street Prompt Pack — the exact prompts I used to generate all 8 characters, so you can bring your own cast to life.
🎁 The “Start Your Own AI Team” starter — a simple template to map how you think into a crew you can talk to.
👉 Grab the free kit — the Baker Street Prompt Pack + Starter
Take them. Rename the cast after whoever you think in — Star Wars, the Avengers, your old cricket team. The names don’t matter. What matters is that what you build connects to how you actually solve problems.
Mine just happen to live at 221B.
Until next time! 🙂
