I
I remember: 'twas a fine day in September; a usual sunny day, the world spinning gloriously, all well with nature. I had retired from my practice early, with the time planned to spend strolling about the streets of London to rediscover the taste of common Londoner life. Thus far it had been pleasant; memories of past days with my old companion – the great Sherlock Holmes – flooded back into my weary mind: times of trouble, brotherhood, and mystery. Now, my marriage had drawn us apart – me from Baker Street, him from any social avenue of English civilisation – and I regret to confess our friendship had become somewhat estranged. Well, I may have dared to express this as my feeling on this matter, but for Holmes, who would know the cocky devil's thoughts were? Even I, who I daresay knew him best, had not the slightest inclination toward Holmes' opinion of this separation; for all I'd have known, he may have even slipped back into his cocaine-fuelled wont yet again.
I had mused on this latest contemplation for some minutes when, quite suddenly, I was reintroduced into the present: a man had been struck down before me by a burglar and was badly wounded, while his attacker has seized his opportunity to escape, shoving past me and hence bringing my attention back to reality.
At this, I was torn by my two instincts: the doctor wished to help the clearly severely injured man, whilst the soldier demanded I pursue the criminal and hand him over to the official police. My compassion overpowering my militancy, and with a shout of "Fear not, I'm a doctor", I bent to attend to the wounded man. At the same moment, another man came sprinting toward me from the opposite end of the street, and launched himself over myself and my patient. As he passed, I could have sworn I heard the man say, "Good to see you Watson" before disappearing behind a building in pursuit of the burglar.
Confused at this, I returned my attention to the wounded man. He was in a bad way, and his health was deteriorating by the second. I did my best to stem the flow of blood from the gash in his head, however even these efforts were not enough to save the man. After several attempts are reviving the poor soul, I turned his care over to some witnesses and chased after the mysterious pursuer.