To Sherlock Holmes, solitude was harmony. His observations of those whom he passed in the streets of his beloved city bespoke of the impediments and anxieties of human ties. In his still-early career, there were very few cases in number that did not have their roots in some personal issue or another. Whether it be for the adulterous husband, the thieving nephew, or the lying friend, nearly all the clients who crossed his path were those whose reasons were purely that of relationship crises.
To see a lady in love was to see a lady whose serenity teetered in the balance; to watch an individual careening about with friends was the sign of one whose merriment could be so easily shattered by one word of rejection. To examine a man whose heart he was in habit of pouring out to a trusted friend was to see a man in the clutches of a potential blackmailer.
It was all so uncertain, and certainly illogical. He did not understand why an intelligent man would find reason enough to put his own self in any such predicament.
And yet, as he found himself gazing into the eager yet patient face of the man who was more than willing to prolong his much-needed rest in favor of hearing the details of a new case, Sherlock Holmes began to piece together exactly what prompted people to love and trust so freely.
"But really, Watson, I am keeping you up, and I might just as well tell you all this on our way to Aldershot to-morrow."
"Thank you, you have gone rather too far to stop."
~The Crooked Man