Love kills (chapter 3)

WATSON'S POV (FROM THE DOCTOR'S DIARY)

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself laying on the hard floor of the morgue with no idea of how I got there. I remembered talking to Mary and I could swear she was there with me. But she was dead, wasn't she? She left me three years ago. Still shocked, I did not know what to do. I am not shy to admit I was scared and confused. After all, I was going through a difficult period, my mind could have imagined what my subconscious thought I might need at the moment. I knew ghost do not exist and that often what people call "paranormal experience" has a perfectly rational explanation if we consider the fact in itself separated from the scary contest. And the Morgue was a scary place, whose dark atmosphere could cause fantasies in a mind fatigued by pain and exhaustion. I was having trouble sleeping since a week or so and I was actually feeling dead on my feet. Was I really rationally thinking to have seen Mary's ghost? Or, more probably, my subconscious was trying to tell me something? What scared me most was that I remembered very well the last time I talked to my dead wife pretending she was alive and not long after that I tried to kill myself. Was I really so sick again? For my own peace of mind I decided not to think about it anymore, I was acting like a fool and if Holmes had discovered the truth (that I was convinced I have been visited by my dead wife in the morgue and that I have been given a mission by her) he would have thought I was going crazy. The last thing I wanted and I needed at the moment was to lose Holmes' respect and loyalty, I had to keep my demons under control. I would do it for him and for myself, I was not going to spiraling down again in the depression that I fought for the last days, I was not going to be weak again, I was not going to be a burden for my friend.

I got on my feet and performed the autopsy with efficiency. I wrote down the report and decided to give it personally to the inspector. I found him in his office with Holmes. I have been avoiding them since a few days so they were surprised to see me, particularly Holmes, who was now watching me with an inquisitor gaze, probably trying to find out how was I handling the situation. I was probably not in my best appeal. However, I blocked out my emotions and actually joined them in the inquiry about the women's murderer. I resumed them my conclusions about the last victim and they seemed satisfied, at least I was glad my work had helped, but when they started to talk about the whole case I lost them because there were many details I did not know: in fact the autopsies on the first three victims were performed by a colleague of mine. Lestrade noticed it and gently explained me the case from the beginning, showing me photographs and evidences. I will not write down all the horrible details I learnt, I think it would be rather useless for the press published many articles about it and if you want you can find all the details on the gazette. As usual, my friend had analyzed all the possible and rationally acceptable solutions in order to catch the man, without success. They were both convinced the murderer was a rich man, whose approach with these unlucky women was caring and gentle. I offered them my personal opinion, that the man was clearly trying to find in these women the mother ( or lover or wife) he lost and that he loved very much and that was the reason for they wore similar clothes and their hair were combed the same way. In fact the second victim wore a wig, because her hair were blonde and not dark as the other four. Lestrade, surprised by my assertion, asked me how did I know about it, because it was a particular they did not talked about to the press and in the photograph the lady did not have it on. Startled by the question and conscious of the attention I have attracted on me, I felt Holmes' gaze reading the expression on my face: I was actually in lack of a response to them, because I did not know how I knew that information. It simply was in my mind.

"Holmes told me" I lied and he did not reply. I was grateful he did not approach the subject until we were on our way home, comfortably seated in a cab.

"So, Watson, can you explain me how did you know that the second victim wore a wig? I am sure I did not tell you." He stated and crossed his arms on his chest, clearly waiting for an exhaustive explanation. A rational explanation. But I did not have any.

"I am sure I heard it from some officer while I was performing the autopsy…"

"That's not possible. Only few people knew about it and I mean me, Lestrade and the physician who worked on her. So, don't lie to me again. Moreover, you're a bad liar, old boy!"

There were times I found Holmes really unnerving and this was one of them. I was tired and I was still confused because of my "experience"; my only wish was to go home and sleep for at least twelve hours and wake up as my usual self I was before: no more visions no more ghosts. But my friend would not had let the matter drop so easily. I was mad at him.

"What do you want from me, Holmes?" I snapped back at him. "I was only trying to help. Besides, who are you to patronize me?"

"I have every right to ask you, Watson. As your friend and as a detective. There is no way you should know about it, unless you are the murderer we are searching for. But I doubt it." Despite the harsh words, his tone remain calm. His concern for me was evident. I thought I owe him an answer at least and I really hoped he would had believed me.

"I don't know how to explain it, Holmes, I just knew it. It was in my mind. I saw her lying on the floor, asleep I thought, but then I knew she was dead. Don't ask me how. I have no rational explanation for this."

Holmes stared at me in silence and I was growing uncomfortable. I thought if I confessed to him everything, maybe I would have felt better. So I did. And as a result, he asked me why I did not tell him before. Even more surprised, I asked him if he really believed me.

"I am sure you did not notice, Watson, but there are many books in my room about men with this kind of ability, men who had almost died and when they returned they had the ability to see things simply touching other people. I believe that when you almost died three years ago and returned, you gained a sixth sense."

"Are you sure Holmes? I thought I was losing my mind!"

"I do believe you. So, do you think you can help us to catch this murderer if I show you the places where we found the first three victims?"

"Of course I can. Do you think we can wait until tomorrow? I am really wasted."

"Tomorrow will be fine. Thank you Watson!"

Finally, that night I slept.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 4...

I know it took me a while to write this new chapter, I hope the waiting was worth it.

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