Mr Holmes & Doctor Watson

'(...) I wish I knew how you reach your results.' 'I reached this one,' said my friend, 'by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast.'

My Holmes.

His eyes kindled and a slight flush sprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant the veil had lifted upon his keen, intense nature, but for an instant only. When I glanced again his face had resumed that composure which had made so many regard him as a machine rather than a man.

I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis, with which he unravellled the problems which were submitted to him.

(...) said Holmes, leaning back in his chair and looking keenly at me from under his half closed lids.

'You’ll come with me, won’t you?' 'If I can be of use.' 'Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.'

It was in the year ’95 that a combination of events, into which I need not enter, caused Mr. Sherlock Holmes and myself to spend some weeks in one of our great University towns.

'You know,' I answered with some emotion, for I had never seen so much of Holmes' heart before, 'that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you.'

He seized my hand in the darkness.

His hand closed like a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his lips to my ear.

It was on a bitterly cold and frosty morning during the winter of '97 that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder. It was Holmes.

Watson. Come at once if convenient. If inconvenient, come all the same. S.H.

'You’ll come with me, won’t you?' 'If I can be of use.' 'Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one.'

My dear Holmes.

File it in our archives, Watson. Some day the true story may be told.

'I thought at any rate that I should call you, and give you the chance.' 'My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.'

I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis, with which he unravellled the problems which were submitted to him.

My dear boy.

You’ll come with me to-night? When you like and where you like. This is, indeed, like the old days.

I felt Holmes' hand steal into mine.