Watson: My Life  is now finished!!!!

Here is an excerpt:


Mary featured in my dreams of last night. My remembrances of yesterday brought her back into focus. She had not inhabited a dream of mine for many years. So many memories still here in my admittedly fading memory. The murder of Ronald Adair and the return of Sherlock Holmes, that’s where I must start today. My reaction to Holmes’s return has a tendency to puzzle people. Why I did not rant and rage at his devious and harmful subterfuge in hiding the fact that he was still living? Why did I immediately fall in with assisting him? Over forty years on and I feel compelled to explain. What I described was an immediate reaction of mine to his sudden appearance. The friendship we had forged was at the forefront of my mind and I was, as I stated, overjoyed to see him alive and standing in front of me. Those emotions crowded out others which would bubble to the surface only later. Chief among these was my anger, unreasonable the fact of it may be, that Holmes was alive yet Mary was dead. I, of course, was not blaming Holmes for her death, but I grieved in differing ways for both of them. If Holmes could be re-born, why not Mary? Yes, irrational I know. Now, what I have to say may sound like heresy to some, but that emotional reunion with Holmes was not in reality quite how I depicted it. Yes, I was amazed to see him which is not quite the same as being overjoyed. The sequence of events then differed somewhat. I demanded a full explanation of what had driven him to allow me to believe he was dead. Of why he could treat a trusted friend and comrade that way. His explanation after I fainted that he had no idea I would be so affected was particularly hurtful. Then the other side of the coin was that in front of me was a man who had a peculiar difficulty in allowing emotions to alter his equilibrium. He really had no idea of what troughs of despair his ‘death’ would bring about in me. That we were able to continue our friendship was a miracle itself, but at that stage of my life I realised how much I needed Holmes in my life. In some ways we came to be dependent on each other although I very much doubt that he would have admitted to such a dependency. But, as history records, I joined with Holmes in the capture of Colonel Sebastian Moran and before too long found myself back in my old quarters. Once more assisting Holmes whilst keeping my doctoring hand in even after selling the Kensington practice for a very good price indeed. History also records how that transaction came about.[1]  The year following on from Holmes’s return was one of the busiest of his career. The cases came thick and fast with barely time to draw breath. The majority of these cases remain unchronicled. The best I could do was to acknowledge these cases in passing which even then infuriated people who reckoned I was just teasing them with these tantalising glimpses of adventures that would never be told. Perhaps I was. Perhaps I did so deliberately. The pre-eminence that Holmes had achieved in his chosen profession before the three years hiatus had not noticeably been diminished in his absence and now had risen to even greater heights. I personally believe that around that time he was at the peak of his powers. Not that I mean that there was any falling off of his skills in the latter years of his career, more that his talents were seen at their best during those post-hiatus years. His mental and physical form were seen to their best advantage and he was called upon by all and sundry, even his Holiness the Pope[2].  By comparison, 1896 was a barren year when for whatever reason, the great cases failed to materialise. Of course, there were some cases that Holmes looked into, but on the whole the first few months of the year were punctuated by Holmes bemoaning the fact of enforced idleness that he had to suffer. And when Holmes suffered, I suffered too I can tell you! That was all to change when I received a letter from my old friend, Godfrey Jacobs, who I believe I have mentioned before in my ramblings. The letter extended an invitation for me to visit him and his family in Lyme Regis on the Dorset coast. Much to my surprise, Holmes after a spot of cajoling on my part, elected to travel with me. Almost immediately when we arrived at that docile, peaceful spot then we were embroiled in a mystery, the like of which we had never known. Rather like the giant rat of Sumatra it is a tale for which the world is unprepared, the stuff of nightmares and dreams. Belief systems counted for nothing during that time and if you agree that faith is defined as something that enables us to believe things that we know to be untrue, then we had faith a-plenty. I will say only this, that I the most flat-footed of men faced head on a force I did not understand. Holmes, that most scientifically minded of men saw for himself something that science could not explain. I did commit an account to paper of the nature of what we encountered in Lyme, but it is not an account for the consumption of the general public nor will it ever be so.

---

[1] A relative of Holmes purchased the practice, the money to do so evidently coming from Holmes.

[2] An unchronicled case involving the sudden death of Cardinal Tosca.