SHERLOCK I, II, III & IV • #wattys2016

prologue

John Watson was a placid man who settled for routine and simplicity.  Sherlock Holmes was a complex man who settled for puzzles and complexity. The two men had little in common; even the question if Sherlock Holmes was actually human tipped on separating them completely.  John Watson was a doctor and Sherlock Holmes was a “consulting” detective. John preferred to sleep at night, Sherlock was diurnal. John liked to invite friends over, if not let the landlady, Mrs. Hudson, talk to him while Sherlock wanted nothing but his own silence. John liked biscuits. Sherlock liked nothing. John wanted a girlfriend, if not one day a wife, Sherlock didn’t care about relationships. They were opposites. But somewhere, even if they didn’t say it out loud, their differences made them an inseparable union.

When Sherlock couldn’t take the stress of the local police department, it was John who would rationalize the situation until Sherlock tolerated at least half of something. When Sherlock broke his violin strings between violent practice sessions, it was John who would hail a black cab and purchase new string, and not just one set, but two. When Sherlock found himself turning in circles at the end of a mental maze, it was John who reheated his watery tea and served it to him with toast. When Sherlock broke into a chase on foot, it was John who followed, no matter what bones ached or what age denied him. Indeed, they were opposites, but wherever Sherlock was, John was not far behind.

Outsiders could never describe them. Detective Inspector Lestrade saw them as team. Mycroft Holmes saw them as an incurable partnership. Molly Hooper saw them as ‘Sherlock Holmes and friend.’ Anderson saw them as motions in the background. Mrs. Hudson saw them as her honored guests. Sherlock’s enemies saw them as obstacles. The world saw them as romantic partners. Children saw them as heroes. Everyone had their own opinion of the two, but the fact that no one had a name for them just explained that they were far from being a thumbnail in history—they were legends.

As far as how Sherlock viewed John, no one could deduct. Even John had trouble seeing where he stood in the detective’s limelight. Sherlock seldom complimented the doctor, but through his actions and continuation of allowing the doctor in on his precious crime scenes, it was quite noticeable that John was held high in Sherlock’s eyes. John, on the other hand, was open on his admiration and was constantly enthralled by the detective’s whirling mind and race-track tongue. Though, through the months of being around the deduction king, John couldn’t help but grow annoyed. But in a funny way, Sherlock would complicate and lengthen his deductions even more until he heard John’s praise.

The two were great friends, nothing more, nothing less. But their friendship was different from most. They didn’t need to pass letters or gifts or outings to remind one another that they meant something, but it was through the crimes they pursued. It was the trust they held them together when death reared its head. It was the exchanging of courage whenever the other took to doubt. It was intelligence that kept their minds on the same track.  And it was when they ran did their hearts rhythmically beat in sync. They were opposites in every way, but give them a crime and they’ll find a way to be the same.

The following event has been kept hiding from the public eyes because of personal information that the detective felt would lower his reputation, but it has now been revealed and retold by a reliable source.  What is about to be told is a story built on one single word. Trust.