Summary: "I'm erasing you and I'm happy!"yells John Watson to the retreating form of Sherlock Holmes, who rounds a corner and disappears, leaving John alone on the crowded city pavement.


His Unblemished Mind
By Seren Castor


Chapter 1: 29 January

"Thy oaths I quit, thy memory resign;
Forget, renounce me, hate whate'er was mine
Fair eyes, and tempting looks (which yet I view!)
Long lov'd, ador'd ideas, all adieu!" – Alexander Pope, "Eloisa to Abelard"

He awoke with a violent headache and a foggy memory. Had he gone out drinking last night? It took a few minutes to get acclimated to being awake. The blinds were down, so not too much light was flooding in.

He turned over to kiss Mary on the cheek before getting up, but curiously she was absent. Shrugging, he got out of bed clumsily and contemplated getting ready for the day.

With toothbrush in mouth, he opened his laptop screen and typed in the address to his blog. His usual routine.

Only two posts in past six months. One a year ago (Nothing ever happens to me) and one yesterday (Living with Mary is great, thanks for asking great empty web).

Why do I bother to check this for comments if I never post anything in the first place? he thought as he trudged his way back to the bathroom mirror, pausing a little while longer than usual after spitting to examine the bags under his eyes and the traces of wrinkles forming by his brow. More than he remembered.


He sat on the tube waiting for his stop, although it seemed a little ridiculous to him where he was going.

"No, Sarah…" pause for cough, "Seems I've come down with a terrible cold. Would endanger patients if I came in. Find someone to cover me for today? Thanks."

So here he was on the tube skiving off of work and he didn't even have a book to read or anything to do. That morning he stood on the platform in front of his usual train, right up until the doors closed and it barreled away. It was one of those days where you needed to run away from everything that made you a responsible adult, so he decided give Mike Stamford a ring and have a pint. At 10 in the morning.

He got on the train to Saint's Paul's Station just as the doors were closing, sat down, and mindfully avoided eye contact with the person sitting across from him. He fiddled with his cane as he tried to keep his mind occupied with thoughts of Mary and fabricated memories from the night before.

Until, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"

John looked up and replied, "Pardon?"

"Afghanistan or Iraq" asked the man again, crossing his legs and maintaining steady and un-blinking eye contact.

"Afghanistan… how did..?"

"The same way I can tell you're an army doctor who's been working as a civilian doctor for about a year, and you've got a psychosomatic limp. Perhaps from a real injury, but it's healed by now surely. And on the platform you were standing even though there were benches available, which means you limp when you're walking but forget about it when you stand. So, psychosomatic. I can read your military service by the tan on your wrist. Stops before your arm. Obviously not sun-bathing. Faded considerably. So on tour, someplace hot. Afghanistan or Iraq, but not in the past year. The way you hold yourself, your haircut, and your stance all say military."

"Right…but how did you know I was a doctor?"

"I listened to your phone conversation."

"Ah."

"The name is Sherlock Holmes…"

"Pleasure."

"So as I was saying, I'm in need of a suitable medical examiner to consult with on cases. The one they've been bringing to the crime scenes lately is insufferable. I'm a consulting detective, by the way. The only one in the world, actually. I invented the title."

"I see…. So what the world's only consulting detective doing taking the tube?"

The man didn't answer. Instead he pulled out a notebook and furiously started scribbling, which reminded John that he needed to work on his blog, so he too pulled out a notebook from his jacket pocket and wrote down what he was thinking.

Strange man approached me on tube. He's still here, but if I turn up dead know it was him.

John chuckled darkly.

"What?" the man across from him inquired.

"Oh, nothing," muttered John, snapping the notebook shut, "Just laughing to myself really."

"So are you available? To consult on cases, I mean."

"I certainly hope that's what you mean."

"What kind of case are you talking about?

"Oh, you know. The exciting kind. Serial killer. Five people dead so far. No apparent connection between the victims. It's like Christmas."

"Bit not good. Mass killing spree like Christmas? A bit indecent."

"And yet you're still here. So what do you say doctor? Want to see a body?"

"I would be lying if I said no-."

He could meet up with Mike any day. Their pint would have to wait until later. Maybe even in the evening.


I don't know if I'm meant to be writing this. I'm definitely not a writer, but Ella, my therapist said it would be a good idea to write down some of my thoughts. Usually nothing happens to me, but today something did.

I met a man on the tube today. He was strange, but also charming in a bizarre way. I can't really describe it (like I said earlier, I'm not much of a writer).

Despite his off-putting demeanor he was a brilliant man. He could read my military service from my tan line, down to the location of my tour. And he figured out I was a doctor as well which leads me to my story.

He said he was a consulting detective. The only one in the world. He asked if I would consult with him on a case. Gruesome stuff. Serial murderer. No link between the victims. For some reason I said yes and we went straight there.

The crime scene was disturbing but strangely calculated. The man looked at the scene for only a few minutes before he was able to rattle every conceivable detail about the murderer, down to his hair colour and shoe size and where he went to primary school (I exaggerate, but I can't even recall all of the details he spouted out). It was fantastic. He asked me to look over the body too, but everything I had to tell him he already figured out for himself.

So I guess this is a pretty interesting entry. I haven't posted one in over a year besides yesterday? Strange. Well anyways, that's about it for now. Will keep you posted on any other dangerous adventures.

Edit: I googled him and he has a website, The Science of Deduction. He's a bit public school, but I agreed to consult on other cases with him. Maybe my life will get little more interesting.

"What's that stupid grin you've gone on your face for?"

"Oh, it's nothing," John said as he set his laptop down on the coffee table.

"You've been grinning like a madman since you got home from work."

"I hadn't noticed," he replied, "Bit of a strange day. Woke up in a funk but met a bizarre man on the tube."

She stopped clinking dishes for a brief second.

"Bizarre man?" she asked, but didn't turn around.