Holmes may be a bit out of character in this one. Please tell me what you think.
After the tragic events in Switzerland, Dr Watson came back a different man. At the start, he seemed utterly wrecked by Mr Holmes's death. When his wife died in an accidental shooting only a year later, we here at the Yard feared for the good doctor's life. To our relief, the doctor stood firm, but something changed about him. He no longer showed any sympathy for criminals. Sometimes I or one of the other inspectors would ask him to help us out with a case, and he was really quite good. Not at the standard of Holmes, but who was?
As time passed, there was a climb in the amount of suspicious deaths, and Dr Watson started to come on less and less cases. At first I didn't see a connection, then I didn't want to believe it. None of the deaths could be proved as murders, so there was no charge, but it was suspicious. They were all deaths of known criminals, who we could not file charges against. They all died of strokes, heart diseases, or other medical maladies, something a doctor would be sure to know about. I didn't want to believe the good doctor capable of such crimes, and as they could not be proved that they were anything other than pure chance, I would not ask questions. Was it really such a crime that these ruffians were to die? It was not worth risking the reputation of a good man over, and there was not even any crime.
Three years after Reichenbach, Holmes was back, and the mysterious deaths stopped. I thought it would all brush over, until one day Holmes came in looking for a case. I had brought out some of those old deaths, trying to find something, anything that could prove my instincts wrong. I wasn't having much luck, and Holmes could tell. Before I could stop him, he took one of the cases and started reading through it.
"Well, this is interesting. Are there more like this, Lestrade?" He asked. I considered lying, but it was pointless. He would know it before I even opened my mouth. "Yes. Over thirty, all supposed to be accidental."
"Obviously not though. Very clever, but not quite perfect. When was the last?"
"The last was only a week before your - hmm - return."
"No more since then?"
I shook my head.
"Peculiar. Why should he stop at my return?" Holmes lapsed into silence. I was distracted, hoping that he had found something that proved me wrong, as he so loved to do. "What have you guessed, then?"
He drew himself upright. "I never guess; it is destructive to the logical faculty. I have, however, deduced that these were all murders. The murderer was most likely a doctor, who had a particular hatred for criminals. This was prompted by the death of a loved one, most likely a family member or a spouse. Their death would have started this killing spree off.
As for the killer, he was a doctor, average height and build, with a limp on his left side. Spent some time in Australia, and was once a soldier."
Holmes finished his soliloquy, and I groaned, head in hands. Not surprisngly, Holmes had noticed everything I had and more, and every point he made painted a clearer picture of the one man I desperately hoped was innocent. I looked at Holmes, and he had obviously not realized my thoughts, for he was still standing there looking smug. "Sound like anyone you know?" I asked wearily. He obviously still wasn't getting it, so I elaborated further. "Doctor, soldier, limp...?"
The smug look on his face morphed into one of horror, then disbelief. "Are you trying to suggest that Watson may be behind this?" he said coldly. "That is ridiculous. He does not even have a motive."
I laughed sarcastically. "Of course, his closest friend being pushed off a cliff couldn't be a motive, could it? And what about his wife?"