My first encounter with the duo came with an outbreak of Smallpox. Reinforcements were needed to keep the peace and subsequently quarantine the area. I was sent from my department indefinitely. We were at the tail end of the ordeal when I followed Lestrade to one 221B Baker street, trying to gain some familiarity with the area. Before we could knock the door swung open to reveal a perturbed little woman who thrust a journal at Lestrade.

"Dr. Watson said to give this to you Inspector" She began. I assumed by Lestrade's smile that the journal was the document he had been after. Looking over his shoulder as he flipped, I saw carefully written names, addresses and treatments. The handwriting became shaky as the Inspector flipped but remained legible.

"Mrs. Hudson-"

"He says to tell you he's not taking any cases no matter how Scotland Yard may grovel." She paused perhaps because of the shocked expression on my face and concluded, "His words not mine."

"No, no cases. Do you think I may have a short word with the doctor? I have an important question to ask him."

"I'm not to let you up Inspector. The doctor needs his rest."

"Just a question. He could nod or shake his head in answer then I will leave him be. Better than us popping in every other day, hm?" Lestrade smiled as Mrs. Hudson looked up the stairs considering.

"You upset him in the slightest and see if I open the door to you again." She threatened and then whirled around to ascend the stairs, it was assumed we follow. I held my tongue in response to her disrespect because Lestrade seemed comfortable in the situation and followed up the stairs.

Upon entering the threshold of the door a voice yelled from the other room, sharp with annoyance. "I thought I was quite clear that the Inspectors weren't to be brought up." I assumed he knew our identities because he had been looking out the window. Nothing else made sense.

"I just have a quick question for the doctor, Holmes."

"I am amazed that Scotland Yard still finds uses for the doctor even now that you have used him into sickness." The man behind the voice entered the room looking disheveled and weary, though his eyes were piercing and attentive.

"The doctor doesn't have the pox-"

"No he's quite immune, Inspector." His voice was edged with biting exasperation. "You have his notes."

"Yes, of which we are grateful. I wasn't expecting-"

"Even in his state Watson was able to perceive that proper documentation wasn't being kept."

I couldn't catch myself before saying, "And what state was that?" Those sharp eyes darted to me. A flash of something shot across his face before his ice cold detachment smothered it.

Lestrade, to my relief spoke up dragging those eyes in his direction. "How is the doctor?"

Holmes voice dripped condescension. "If you recall that limp he has Inspector? Even you should be able to observe it, it's quite apparent. Well it's from a war injury. He has a similar one on his shoulder. Now this injury gives him enough trouble normally let alone when he is on it for days, not bothering to eat, neglecting to drink and working himself into exhaustion. He is exhausted and dehydrated and fevered and in a lot of pain." He paused and I could see the muscles in his jaw visibly tighten. "I am not allowed into the quarantined areas Lestrade and I tell you if my doctor is ever returned in this state again next time you will be treating the sick yourself."

"Understood. May I ask the doctor a simple question?"

"If it's about the boy, Watson wrote a note to you at the end of the journal." Lestrade flipped to the end reading through the note. "If not I'm afraid the doctor is not lucid. We forced morphine on him much to his chagrin."

Lestrade's eyes were still on the note and I thought I saw his cheeks redden. "No. It's all explained here-"

"Chagrin?" I found myself asking. "Does this Dr. Watson have a history with addictive painkillers?" I have always considered myself an observant person and sometimes I admit I rush to negative conclusions and inappropriate inquiries. Again I found those eyes on me this time the flames weren't to be extinguished. I was saved by a yell from the bedroom immediately claiming his attention and those eyes. I was sure I was in a mad house when the yelling was in a language I couldn't place, intermingled with English names and medical terms that might as well have been foreign. Holmes darted to the bedroom, he called "Good day Inspectors." behind him in a tone that warned us we better not be in his rooms upon his return.

"It gives him nightmares." Lestrade spoke quietly from his reading.

"Excuse me?"

"Of the war. The morphine." At that the Inspector moved to exit.

Something came over me. I had put my foot in my mouth on both instances of opening it. And even though the man was insufferable and had more than disrespected the Scotland Yard I owed him an apology. So I followed him to the door he had exited into. It was cracked and I could see a sliver into the room. The doctor, I assumed it was he, was flailing on the bed his face was flushed and his hands were in fists. Holmes gently took hold of the thrashing arms and bent over the distraught form. I stood in shock as his face lowered and he kissed the doctor on the lips. It was a chaste kiss. Brief and comforting as one might see between an old married couple. The doctor stilled instantly as if suddenly grounded. A relieved sigh escaped his trembling teeth and it seemed he knew where he was. The lips moved from the mouth to rest on the forehead like a parent feeling for an infant's temperature. Holmes' eyebrows furrowed in concern as he pulled his lips from the face to be replaced by a wet rag.

Abandoning my noble intentions I back tracked to follow Lestrade. This Holmes character. He was respected. There was no arguing his intelligence. And he had a way over Scotland Yard that is to be rivaled. That made him powerful. And that made him dangerous. At this point he has been a help but if that were ever to change there would be no stopping him. And it had already started. Just a glimpse into a tainted soul that Scotland Yard, Lestrade, and all the doctor's eager readers were too blinded by admiration to see. But I would be watching.