Dear Doctor Watson
Dear Doctor Watson,
My name is Toby Knight and I am twelve years old. I want to say sorry for the fact that I haven't written to you sooner, but everybody I have told about what I am about to tell you has disbelieved me, and my mother and father have urged me to keep quiet on the subject because, let's face it, who would ever believe the words of a twelve year old kid? But my family and I have recently received a bit of bad news. You see I was diagnosed with cancer twelve months ago and have been under the care of the wonderful staff at Bart's Hospital ever since. I will not bore you with the details but last week we were told that the cancer has spread and there is nothing more they can do. I don't want sympathy, I know people expect me to be angry and scared but I am not afraid of dying. Anyway that is not the reason I am writing to you. You see I can see how much the news has devastated my family, and I may be young but I think that I can understand because I once heard someone say that it is always tougher on the ones left behind. When my granddad died when I was ten it broke my heart. He was my best friend you see, and for a while I struggled to see the point of my life anymore now that he was no longer a part of it. I imagine that's how you now feel without Mr Holmes. My granddad and I were always such huge fans of your stories. I would check your blog every day for any new updates, and would cycle to his house after school so we could sit down and read them together. It is so sad that he died before he got the chance to read about some of your most exiting adventures, like The Hounds of Baskerville (which is my favourite of all your stories because Henry had the same surname as mine). Mr Holmes must have been a very clever man in order to figure out all those mysteries, and I just wanted to let you know that I still believe in Sherlock Holmes. As I said Doctor Watson I am not afraid of dying, but I don't think it would be very fare of me to take what I have wanted to tell you for a long time now to my grave. It has made me feel very sad to have to keep this from you, you see I would give any amount of time I have left for just a few more minutes with my granddad – enough time to read just one more story. But we don't all get the opportunity for a second chance.
On the day of Mr Holmes' passing I was at Bart's Hospital for another round of chemotherapy. I'd heard that you were both visiting – conducting some research for your most recent case – but I wasn't allowed to leave my room to try and find you because the medicine had made me feel rather poorly, and I was told that I was too weak. I was bitterly disappointed, but I realised that my room on that day was facing the front of the hospital, and so I stood looking out of my window all day, and when I could no longer stand I sat – hoping to catch a glimpse of you both leave. I saw you leave first, alone and in quite a hurry that afternoon, and I saw you return. I also saw Mr Holmes fall from the roof a few minutes later, but he didn't hit the pavement like everybody said. I watched in horror as I saw him fall, and then I watched him land in a rubbish truck which had been parked outside the front of the hospital almost all afternoon. It was so strange because I watched him dump another body over the side – I thought it was a dummy at first until I received news of his death – and then conceal himself within the rubbish bags before the truck drove away.
I don't know why Mr Holmes would want to fake his own death, but all I can say is that it must have been for something very important. One of the boys on my ward said that he'd heard reports of snipers in the hospital that day, and that security guards were on high alert. Maybe it had something to do with that?
Don't give up on Mr Holmes Doctor Watson, and don't believe anything anybody says about him. He was a great man, and a good one. You knew him better than anybody else. Listen to what your heart is telling you, because mine is telling me that he is still out there somewhere and that he will live on long after I am dead and buried. I hope that Mr Holmes will return one day – missing someone is the worst pain in the world. But at least if you can bring yourself to believe in the word of a child I might be able to bring you some comfort in the fact that I know Sherlock Holmes is still alive.
Do you think you might consider writing back to me? I know you must be a very busy man, but it would mean a lot to me. You and Mr Holmes have really inspired me, and if by some miracle I manage to overcome the odds now stacked against me I would like to become a detective just like him. On the other hand I realise that I am just another twelve year old boy, and I will understand if you can't. It will not change the way I feel about either you or Mr Holmes.
Your fan,
Toby Knight.
