Again, good day! I am Dr. Watson and haven´t withdrawn from this story or conversation. Rather, I need to talk about these issues, tell my hardships and in a certain way, I feel relieved to at least give information about this incredible story.
My last days have been a gigantic nightmare. Despite my suspicions, the fearless and audacious Sherlock Holmes tricked me again. I still don´t understand how, over and over again, I fall in his manipulations! He never tells me the whole truth! The detective is a victim of his obsessions! Of course, he is an antisocial, drunk and rude person, who has no social intelligence, doesn´t know how to treat people well, says or does the first thing that comes to his mind, without thinking about the consequences, and can´t live without my professional help. Although I previously indicated that the doctor-patient relationship was inverted, turning me into his protégé and victim, with this trip to Switzerland, I have been able to clear my mind, calm down for some moments, and reflect on my possible separation from that woman who might be known as the former Mrs. Watson. Of course, we don´t have kids! This is good news! Also I don´t possess great assets of fortune either! As she is the owner of our house, and doesn´t know that I paid for a part of the apartment of Sherlock Holmes, who is also my front man, when we divide the properties, I will keep half of that house and will not have to give her anything in return … Half of that house is a just compensation for all the gifts I have given to the Swindhit! Yes! I will be able to live without great financial concerns…
However, that decision of separation wasn´t flattering. Sadly, an immense emotional conflict persisted in my mind, which Sherlock Holmes skillfully took advantage, confusing me and continuing with his perverse plans for revenge, destined in advance to a resounding failure. On the one hand, my heart was attuned to the kind, good and innocent Mrs. Watson, and on the other hand, my rational and calculating brain, secretly trained by this detective, told me to stay away from her, because Mrs. Watson could be an accomplice in the misdeeds of the Swindhit, and it is in my best interest to recover everything that those mobsters have taken from me. Even, as I mentioned before, at first I believed that they were good people, and Sherlock Holmes' continuous criticism against that false family bothered me, but I must admit that Sherlock Holmes is rarely wrong, he seems like a machine without feelings, and after several months, feeling certain disenchantment with Mrs. Watson, I had to accept that the Swindhit constitute a criminal group.
Also, as I have previously expressed, I was quite uncomfortable by being a patient of Sherlock Holmes, which would end with my eminent break with the Swindhit society. If I closely follow my detective friend's logic, it is highly probable that my marriage was one of convenience, and Mrs. Watson, whom I thought to be sweet, kind, patient and helpful, is a swindler that hands over the fortunes of her husbands to the Swindhit. Maybe I am not the first!
At that time, I realized what I didn´t want to accept! Mrs. Watson, whom I knew as a nurse, never told me about her previous jobs, and once got very nervous when Sherlock Holmes asked her where and when she graduated, answering very ambiguously: "In the same school that the best doctors go… You know which one… I graduated with honors five years ago…"
I even thought that she was the big mistake of my life and classified her as the evil ex-Mrs. Watson. Nonetheless, in these moments, I was extremely distressed and afflicted by other concerns.
Unfortunately…
Sherlock Holmes had died!
But… I didn´t want to accept it! Why? I never conceived that he would fight James Moriarty alone! What lack of caution! Not even the best boxer in England dares to commit such madness! I am not sure what happened… But, they both died… I felt disappointed, sad and helpless… I could not contain this pain! I was asked to attend and help Sherlock Holmes, but sadly I failed! I didn´t know if it was my fault! Could it be that the challenge of caring for and controlling Sherlock Holmes is an impossible task for any human being? I would like to think so, but that didn´t exempt me from responsibilities. I should never have allowed Sherlock Holmes to meddle in my marriage and relationship with Mrs. Watson's alleged family! I shouldn´t have let him turn me into his patient either! Years ago, my boss in the hospital told me: "We must lock Sherlock Holmes… That madman can´t be on the loose… Sooner or later he will harm many people… No matter what the Queen says… Sherlock Holmes is a deranged and highly dangerous individual..." At that time, due to the death of Sherlock Holmes, I was emotionally destroyed... How much I regretted of not listening to my former boss! If I had proceeded, then Sherlock Holmes would be alive! But... Maybe I would have died or become bankrupt because of the Swindhit. Yes! I am not ungrateful! At least, I am grateful that my detective friend saved me in his own way... Men don´t cry... But... I wanted to cry... Still my memory was a mess!
Sitting in a chair of my hotel room, at the table, I saw the front page of the Swiss newspaper 24 Heures, with the headline of the news that shocked all Britain and Europe: "Sherlock Holmes is dead." The date of the tabloid is May 9, 1891. I repeat… My memory, which is affected by that strange degenerative disease, diagnosed only by Sherlock Holmes, is not the same as before. I believe that other European newspapers gave this news in previous days. I didn´t know if Sherlock Holmes died on the fourth, fifth, sixth or seventh day of May. I was so bad and didn´t remember many events of these last days! I also didn´t know how I was going to get back the money invested in the apartment 221B! Very possibly, some relative of Sherlock Holmes, who didn´t appear before, but now many will come like a flock of vultures, will claim that property, and I had no way to prove that this is my main home. I even missed the notes of Sherlock Holmes, who helped me in his own way!
Yes! I remembered it… Sherlock Holmes left me a letter. I know that I read this, but in the rage of the moment and trying to deny reality, I tore it to pieces. I saw the parts in the bin. I tried to put them together. This was difficult! If my memory didn´t fail me, I remembered that my detective friend blamed James Moriarty for all his misfortunes, who explained his criminalistic methods to him, feels sadness because he can die, believes that the trap was for me, and if the worst happens, which seems a fact consummated in that letter, he relinquishes his estate, giving it to his brother Mycroft Holmes and cynically sends his warm regards to Mrs. Watson.
I was only able to reconstruct a few sentences and words from that paper, which I wrote: "Watson … Moriarty … intelligence … will save… the price … my associates … crisis … trap… report … prove guilt … blue envelope … my property … my brother … regards … Mrs. Watson." These broken messages ratified my inner ideas and before a moment of nostalgia, I didn´t know exactly how I began to recover. It seems that I woke up again from horrible dreams, remembering that in my years as a doctor, I had remarkably helped traumatized people to recover, and it was highly possible to overcome this serious emotional crisis. I also remember when I had the honor of appearing before the Queen of England, who strongly requested me to deal with the troublesome Sherlock Holmes... This wasn´t a coincidence! I still remember that there was a time when I was regarded as the foremost doctor and psychiatrist in the United Kingdom.
I was facing an unpleasant situation of suffering, traumas and pain that came and went, and the need to overcome a loss that was impossible to recover. Of course, at that time, I thought that Sherlock Holmes wasn´t going to resurrect, although as long as the corpse didn´t appear there were little hopes that he would be found alive. I understood how Job suffered! In an instant, all ten of his children died! But… I don´t know if Job endured a pain ten times greater than mine, or given my close relationship with the unhappy but cherished Sherlock Holmes, things turned around, and in a few days, I felt a colossal and inexplicable suffering that probably exponentially far surpassed that experienced by the saint Job.
Calmer, I reflected, smoked, had cookies for breakfast and drank a glass of wine, imitating the customs of Sherlock Holmes, and tore up the messages of the letter that I had reconstructed minutes before, setting them on fire.
This action was very important. Within myself, I definitely recognized the need to erase the past and make room for a new beginning, just as it happened at the end of Job's story. Or in other words, fateful events have occurred and it is essential to allow the rising of a new life, with greater well-being and joy, emerging from the ashes of previous suffering.
Therefore, I understood that a new stage in my life was beginning, after the legacy of the famous detective, and applying my own self-help methods, also proposed by the Scottish writer, Samuel Smiles, years ago, I decided to accept reality and look for viable ways to recover emotionally.
Summarizing and thinking in a cold and analytical way, which was inspired, in a time ago, by the spectacular search for solutions of the bold and ingenious detective, I asked myself: "How can I get ahead to overcome adversity?" I reflected: "First, Sherlock Holmes died, and it isn´t a matter of finding guilty ones, because he is the main responsible for the end of his life. Second, possibly my marriage ended. I must ask a divorce and half of Mrs. Watson's house or its equivalent in pounds sterling. Third, I must contact the relatives of Sherlock Holmes and explain the situation to them, hoping that they will recognize my assets. In case they refuse to accept that part of the apartment and some of the furniture are mine, I can argue that Sherlock Holmes owes me money for several years of psychiatric treatment, with interest on arrears, but it is almost impossible to collect debts from the deceased or to seize their properties. If there are no amicable settlements with the Holmes, I will hire the best lawyer of London!"
At first, I thought that with these practical solutions, which I wrote down for not forgetting them, I could rebuild my life, despite the immense pain that the loss of Sherlock Holmes left me, which is intermittent. As much as I tried to remove it, sometimes it came back in a very chaotic way.
Having partially controlled this difficult situation and conceiving the best escape routes to rebuild my life, I continued thinking and meditating. In those days, after arduous and complex reflections, my main priority was to recover the corpse, since as a doctor who has met relatives and lawyers that have dealt with cases of missing persons, I know very well that without a body there is no definitive proof of death, and many years must be waited to claim the inheritance and proceed with the distribution of assets to relatives and close friends. I don´t remember how many years! Or in another way, whatever the press says or the police authorities conclude, legally, it isn´t the same a disappeared person than a dead one.
Nonetheless, many times I have been wrong with my brilliant approaches. When I met Sherlock Holmes, I thought that with luck we would get only to the third consultation, because one of the two would give up. What was the result? Despite the ups and downs, we collaborated closely for many years. Another example, when I met the one I don´t want to name, Mrs. Watson, I realized that we were meant for each other and would live together as soul mates for the rest of our lives, repeating the outcome of a sensational fairy tale. Anyway, there are too many cases, or in other words: Is it possible or is it fair that the best doctor-psychiatrist in London, me, can´t properly judge others with a first impression? Unfortunately, this is the harsh reality, and almost always my great ideas and projects end up failing, which also happened sometimes to the cunning Sherlock Holmes, being him an excellent planner and strategist.
Unlike other opportunities, in my heart of hearts or subconsciously, I expected to be wrong because this would mean that Sherlock Holmes is still alive. Sadly, this time the probabilities would be like this: 99% of a new life without Sherlock Holmes, and 1% in favor of the miraculous return of the controversial and selfish detective.
Partially, I anticipate what will come... The truth is that fortunately and against all odds, time didn´t prove me right. However, the circumstances happened in such a strange and unpredictable way, that I would never have imagined them, but it was highly feasible that Sherlock Holmes had glimpsed these unusual facts.
When I was still immersed in my thoughts, the doorman of the hotel, in charge of bringing and sending the telegrams, whom I remember for being very kind and cooperative, and mastering the English language perfectly, gently knocked twice on the door of my room.
I opened it in a few seconds, seeing Mr. Emnhil Graham, whose first and last name are on the badge of the right pocket of his red shirt, a bit nervous. He is a tall, muscular, gray-haired man, who another day told me that in his youth he was a professional boxer and admired Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
The doorman stated:
-Good morning, Mr. Watson, how did you wake up?
I said:
-Good morning, Mr. Graham.
-I am fine and I hope you have a wonderful day!
The doorman continued the conversation:
-Sorry to bother you, Mr. Watson…
I took the floor and replied:
-This is no trouble!
-You do your job very well!
-I am the annoying one, sending and receiving so many telegrams.
-To what do I owe the honor of your visit? Why are you so tense?
Emhil Graham replied:
-At the reception, there is a lady who is looking for you.
At that moment, several ideas crossed my mind. As the illustrious Sherlock Holmes once explained to me, in certain difficult missions, women have a better chance of succeeding without arousing suspicions. Even Jesus died on a Friday, his tomb could not be visited on Saturday due to Jewish traditions, and precisely on Sunday, the women, who were at less risk of being caught by the authorities, visited his tomb, getting a great surprise.
Despite my neurological limitations, I thought: "Is she an envoy from Scotland Yard? But… They came a few days ago and don´t want to talk to me! Could it be an agent from the secret service office? Could it be a sister, cousin or aunt of Sherlock Holmes? Could it be a lawyer of the Holmes? Could it be a Swiss government assistant? Is she a government spy? Is she a fan of Sherlock Holmes? Could it be a journalist? Could it be an author who wants to write a novel about the death of Sherlock Holmes? Could it be Irene Adler? Could it be an envoy of the Swindhit? Or… Could it be Mrs. Watson?"
Quickly, I asked:
-How is she?
The doorman answered:
-Kind, polite, nice, tall, white skinned, blonde, brown eyes, looks more like a Swedish than a Londoner; she has a first aid kit and a folder with multiple documents.
I began to tremble and said:
-Is it Mrs. Watson?
Emhil Graham replied:
-Her name is Mary Morstan.
I immediately took one of the papers of my right jacket pocket, which puzzled the doorman, and read it silently: "Mary Morstan or Mrs. Watson."
I explained to the hotel clerk that this woman was my wife and I didn´t understand why she identified herself with her maiden name. He confirmed that the lady wanted to talk to me anywhere. I gave permission for Mrs. Watson to report to my habitation.
Although my room was on the third floor, the tenth one at the end of the corridor, and there was no elevator because this was a modest hotel, ideal for the economic capacity of Sherlock Holmes, who didn´t like to spend a lot of money on travels, Mrs. Watson arrived in a few minutes, sweating and breathing heavily, as if she had run up the stairs.
I was prepared for a strong discussion, but looking at her face, I noticed that it was more of concern than discomfort. In the same way, I also noticed, as the friendly Mr. Graham had described, that she was carrying a small first aid kit in one hand, and a folder of documents in the other. Of course, Mrs. Watson was prepared to attend Sherlock Holmes, if the miracle of finding him alive occurred, and also she had some legal documents that could be those corresponding to a request for divorce.
Just as I expected, showing a bad face, she started the conversation, yelling at me:
-Why did you go on this trip without telling me?
-Why do you have to accompany Sherlock Holmes without telling me?
I didn´t know how to respond, but I told her:
-I had to accompany Sherlock Holmes, on a secret mission.
-I couldn´t tell you because your life would be in danger.
-Not even the Swindhit could know this.
-By the way, how did you find me?
Without hiding her bad mood, Mrs. Watson stated:
-Your crazy friend is causing us too much trouble!
-Before he left, the detective entered our house at night… He opened the safe… I don´t know how he guessed that the combination is the date of birth of my first nephew… He took cash, a valuable diamond and my photo album…
-And even he left a ridiculous note, I read it: "I took Irene Adler's favorite diamond and borrowed money for travel expenses, later I will pay the debt, or my heirs will. The magnificent Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective of the world."
-I came with a court order. They already searched Sherlock Holmes' room and other places in the hotel, without finding the diamond.
-What do you think?
-Your friend is a psycho thief!
-It is probable that this diamond, which is very important to me, is in some pocket of his corpse, or that it is embedded in any part of his body.
-That´s why I have the medical instruments!
-As you can see, I also brought these documents…
I abruptly interrupted the conversation:
-How did you find me so fast?
-Even if you have filed the complaint at the police station, it takes several days to investigate and they aren´t going to reveal my whereabouts to you... Unless you have very powerful contacts in the English government and the intelligence services...
-Who are you?
-We have been married for over a year...
-I have never seen that diamond or your photo album!
-Did the Swindhit send you?
-You also brought the divorce papers to blackmail me!
-As Sherlock Holmes would say: "Elementary!"
Mrs. Watson tried to dissimulate feelings of anger and frustration, but her beautiful face turned pale and reflected arduous concerns. I kept talking:
-A few days ago, I received a telegram from Scotland Yard, advising me that their officers would search Sherlock Holmes' room and belongings. They finished their work and didn´t want to give me the details.
-But... From that I infer that the police authorities no longer will come... Because Scotland Yard finished this work, and...
-You haven´t made a complaint!
-I insist… It is false that they have raided this hotel at your request.
-And if you want to threaten me with a divorce!
-Proceed…
-But half of the house is mine!
-I am also telling you that… Once... The infallible Sherlock Holmes, under the influence of alcohol, told me... It could be that he was wrong! That you had the profile of a swindler or a spy! I don´t know how far Sherlock Holmes is right! But… In addition to serving his interests, he wanted our marriage to last as long as possible.
-I repeat…
-Who are you?
-It is remarkable that you came for the body of Sherlock Holmes, some evidence on his corpse and something else...
-Our false marriage is part of your work, which you have done very well.
-Could you tell the truth?
-Who are you?
Mrs. Watson wept loudly. She violently threw the medicine cabinet to the floor, which opened, leaving bandages, needles, broken bottles and liquids scattered on the ground. The documents were also spread on the floor of the room. She started banging on the wall. I was worried because in her panic attack, Mrs. Watson could start throwing glass cups at me or the hotel security personnel would note this scandal and evict us. At that time, I didn´t know if she was a secret service spy or a double agent at the service of the Swindhit.
Then, she sat up in the bed, staring at me with a disappointed and tear-streaked face, as if Sherlock Holmes had discovered her and told me.
After a while, after multiple glances to the sides and to the floor, reflecting feelings of defeat, Mrs. Watson turned her stubborn gaze back to me and said:
-Listen well!
-Do you hear me?
-You don´t understand the situation!
-I have always been in love with you!
-I was going to ask for a divorce to distract you and we weren´t going to get to that point...
-But… Sherlock Holmes interferes too much in my work!
-Really…
-It didn´t bother me that you were busy late at night, or that you spent time at Sherlock Holmes' home, or that you went on long journeys.
-This gave me more free time for my work.
-I also couldn´t get away from the Swindhit, who are very skilled, and it has been difficult for us to collect evidence against them, for many years.
-But… Your great and insane friend stole one of my work instruments, a diamond that Godfrey Norton took from Irene Adler… The Swindhit have asked her for a great reward... The Swindhit are secretly watched by government spies, and are in contact with Irene Adler… I need that jewel, so we can apprehend this woman the day the Swindhit will deliver it to her…. It seems that the reckless Sherlock Holmes wanted to give this diamond to her fiancée and take the credit for that capture… These aren´t his merits!
-And the album contains photos of other members of the Swindhit, who have attended some of the parties. These celebrations are a front for their illegal gatherings. At a certain time of the night, the other guests go down to the basement, talk about their business for an hour, and secretly, many times, I went there for a while, and we took photos together.
-Do you hear me?
-Don´t you remember that between ten and eleven at night, I was in that place?
-Of course…
-You have memory problems!
-Of course, I know it!
-I hope you understand…
-That bastard of Sherlock Holmes!
-I have spent years identifying the members of the Swindhit and other members of the organization!
-And when finally, having gained the trust of those criminals, they entrusted me to take care of Irene Adler's favorite diamond, because they feared that some delinquents would try to look for it in one of their residences, while I am an unknown in the world of crime…
-And being us, the secret service officers almost ready to deal a big blow to this gang along with the capture of Irene Adler, your reckless friend messes everything up!
-There are many years of efforts and work that will be lost if I don´t manage to recover that diamond in time!
-We will also lose important evidence if the photos don´t appear!
-You don´t know… But… There is a heated discussion between Scotland Yard and the secret service office!
-Everything revolves around a first and last name: Sherlock Holmes!
-And I am one of the alleged culprits…
-I have to return in a few days so that the Swindhit will continue believing that I came looking for you…
-And if I don´t give them the original jewel… Then my secret identity will collapse...
-Also, I won´t be able to return without that diamond because upon suspicions of treason or theft of this jewel, they will kill me...
-Do you hear me?
-Do you understand me?
Mrs. Watson continued the conversation, raising her voice:
-I had to give you confidential information!
-And the entire fault is...
-Of that crazy and damned of Sherlock Holmes!
-I don´t know if he will rest in peace!
-John Watson, you can´t repeat what you have heard!
-If you do this, I will give orders to jail you for divulging confidential information, interfering with covert operations, and betraying our beloved country.
-But… I am going to ask you to collaborate and help us in the search for Sherlock Holmes.
-You are the one who knows him best and can deduce where he is, alive or dead…
-We must get the corpse, no matter what!
-If he is alive, we should hide him for a while, and if he is dead, hopefully the evidence I need to recover will appear...
-But… If you don´t cooperate...
-Sadly…
-Don´t make me do it!
-I will give orders to imprison you for complicity with criminal groups...
-It was you who gave those wonderful gifts to the Swindhit!
-It wasn´t me!
In those moments, facing with the difficulty of digesting these unexpected revelations, I turned pale and there was a strange transference of moods. Mrs. Watson's great concerns were passed on to me. It was no longer a question of suffering financial problems because of the Swindhit, or saving a marriage, or continuing to mourn the death of Sherlock Holmes. Now, the British government entrusted me with an arduous and almost impossible mission, which I could not refuse, and failing again in my previous predictions, I had to work with Mrs. Watson, in a more professional than personal relationship, although with the relief that I didn´t have to keep any more secrets from her. I was even free of not hiding my strange mental illness, which she already knew. Sadly, as expected, the great cause of this controversial and unusual situation was my dear friend: Sherlock Holmes.
I understood that the search for the missing Sherlock Holmes was being organized at all costs, and at the same time, I felt that my brain was short-circuiting. The image of Mrs. Watson had changed radically. In a few moments, she went from villain to heroine and I was shocked by my doubts. I thought: "Is she a spy or a double agent supporting the Swindhit? Why didn´t Sherlock Holmes give me more clues?" Obviously, without the presence of the ruthless detective, it was difficult to get to the bottom of the true facts.
Calmer and understanding my gestures of approval, Mrs. Watson approached me, giving me a warm kiss, along with a strong hug, which left me perplexed. After a few seconds, which seemed endless, she told me:
-You know very well that I love you!
-This is a true romantic relationship!
My earlier worries about the damages the Swindhit were doing to my life and the end of my marriage disappeared at that time. Nonetheless, the search for the body or corpse of Sherlock Holmes, the recovery of the evidence stolen by the inopportune detective, the next return to London, knowing in advance that I would need police protection, for a long time, in the face of the danger that I would represent for the Swindhit and their collaborators and the fearful advance of my incurable disease, in a new life without Sherlock Holmes or with a Sherlock Holmes, questioned or fugitive from justice, were my main concerns. This time, I didn´t hide from Mrs. Watson that I could not sleep that night...