Before I begin, may I just clarify that this is not for my collection of my and my companion's adventures. In this, there is no great mystery nor is there a unique example of my friend's great deduction skills. No, in here there is a very different side of Holmes, the side that was rarely seen by anyone aside from myself. It was here, somewhere between the morphine and chronic boredom, that Holmes' brow would relax and his eyelids would droop in hazy content. In certain instances, his demeanor would relax and that pompous smirk that so many had wanted to smack off of him would warm into a pleasant grin. It was here that his love of the violin lived and his fancy of me thrived.

This is an account of one of those instances.

Perhaps the modern world really would be better off not knowing the personal side of Sherlock Holmes, but perhaps not. Of course, I'd have to leave it to future generations, to wait until all of us are dead and gone, our stories forgotten and disregarded as mere fiction. I could never ruin my and especially Holmes' reputation like that. God knows how he'd react….
- JHW