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Sherlock-MS-Blog

Records of the neurodetective  
in the fight against multiple sclerosis


Articles

SherlockMS and the Case of the Blind Watchdog

SherlockMS and the Case of the Blind Watchdog

This evening, there was no sealed letter on my table, but a digital dossier, straight from The Lancet. A paper titled, “Who's really in the loop?”. The authors posed a question so elegant it could have been my own. The core sentence, a line that struck like a poison dart: “Human-in-the-loop oversight is widely invoked as a safeguard... yet it funct...
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Sherlock MS and the Case of the Polite Massacre

Sherlock MS and the Case of the Polite Massacre

This is about antibiotics. Marvellous inventions, life-saving, civilisationally on roughly the same level as hot water and functioning door handles. So I am by no means against antibiotics. That would be as foolish as being against the fire brigade because water ruins carpets. 🚒
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Sherlock MS and the Case of the Upholstered Assassin

Sherlock MS and the Case of the Upholstered Assassin

The case itself was disagreeably modern. No poison in the tea, no dagger in the drawing room, no nocturnal visitor with improper intentions. No, the culprit was polite, softly upholstered, and fully accepted in millions of households: the armchair. More precisely, what it symbolises. Sitting. Too much sitting. Moving through the day like a royal ho...
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Sherlock MS and the Case of the Resentful Watch

Sherlock MS and the Case of the Resentful Watch

The case concerned the immune system. More precisely: its character. For decades, people had assumed that the finer sort of remembering belonged solely to the adaptive branch, that immaculately groomed specialist corps with antibodies, T cells, and the entire bureaucratic apparatus of targeted defence. The innate immune system, by contrast, was th...
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Sherlock MS and the Case of the Charming Impostor

Sherlock MS and the Case of the Charming Impostor

The case that landed on my desk was of a particularly refined sort. It concerned a medical AI that shone in examinations like a neatly turned-out medical student on the verge of a gold medal. Diagnoses? Impeccable. Answers? Elegant. Technical language? Almost indecently well groomed. And yet the whole business smelt of deception. For excellence on ...
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Sherlock MS and the Case of the Vanished Conductor

Sherlock MS and the Case of the Vanished Conductor

You know him. This supposed gentleman in tails, standing somewhere deep inside the brain with a silver baton, commanding everything: Now feel. Now remember. Now concentrate. Now do try to stumble with a little more dignity. A touching notion. Sadly, about as wrong as the claim that one can understand a sonata merely by monitoring the second violin.
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