A/N: The first chapter was just an intro, now the actual strabbles can begin. I have difficulty with computers so please be understanding. Also, after reading Cryptix's "Art Runs In the Blood", I finally decided to write the stories in my head. So blame her.
Many are aware of the absolute knowledge of anything or anyone criminal that my close companion, Sherlock Holmes, possesses. From any criminal who has not aligned himself to any outfit, to being well-informed of the obscure Professor Moriarty and the almost undetectable works of his empire. With a mind for noticing the smallest connections, there is no organization's web he cannot see. Save for one.
Long had I noticed the benevolent timing of cases when periods of inaction had come upon us, periods which gave chance to the awakening of the sleeping beast-cocaine, that had preyed on the mind of my friend during our earlier years. Often, my fears for him would take hold of me throughout these spells, and just as I would think the breaking point might be reached-a marvelous case would find its way to our door. Few thoughts went to these blessed interventions, until I had taken notice of the actions of a few others in our lives.
I had discerned a third party during the case of "The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter" when, in the middle of a lack of activity, Mr. Overton came to us for help. I barely recalled that a few days prior to the entreaty, Billy and I had talked about the current situation of Holmes. At the end of our talk his eyes seemed to distance himself for a mere moment. I did not think much of it since, like Holmes, Billy's eyes have always made his thoughts indiscernible, but where Holmes has lack luster grey eyes, the eyes of our calm page seem to be composed of an enigmatic green fog. My mind also almost didn't recall that I had seen Billy give a letter to an Irregular who then went running off with it. I had thought it was a letter sent by Holmes, but memory had served me then for I remembered that he had remained in either his bed or his chair and Billy had remained downstairs all through that day. In thought I connected that the Irregular had run in the direction of Scotland Yard, and that it was Inspector Stanley Hopkins who had sent Mr. Overton to our doorstep.
I then began to look back over other times of inactivity and saw many of the same actions occurring. It made me wonder how I, or Holmes for that matter, had not seen it all along. Then I realized that we both had obsessed so much over the times of quiet that we did not bother with anything but the silence and Holmes' mind.
Many a time I have wondered if I should tell him of his unknown league of guardians, who put so much effort into keeping him safe from himself. Each time I deciding against it. It is probably best that he does not know of the Casebook Cabinet, if his unequaled skills of observation cannot see this web than perhaps providence intends for it to be unknown. Besides, it takes a great worry off my mind knowing others can watch him when I can not. I thank the good Lord in my prayers for the assistance and I thank them in my stories, though only a very close eye could ever see it.
It is a fantastical circle: Holmes anonymously keeps the entire world safe, his pseudo sons keep him happy-unknown to him, and they are praised unknown to them-"Therefore I blessed this Mr. Overton, whoever he might be…."