From Book girl fan: "What child does not have a teddy bear?"
After his retirement to Sussex Downs, my dear friend Sherlock Holmes largely dropped out of society. He had some few acquaintances who visited him sometimes at his cottage, and I was privileged enough to be one of them. So it was that I found myself seated in an armchair by the fire one evening and engaged in a surprising conversation.
"You never had any sort of special toy when you were a child, Holmes?"
My friend shrugged, the firelight playing over the small smile on his face. "My childhood, as you know, Watson, was hardly a conventional one. The possession that I remember from an earliest age was a magnifying glass; I suppose that might be considered a childhood toy."
"But no toy soldiers? No puppets or trains?" I knew from what Holmes had told me that his family had been wealthy, which was why I was surprised by his revelation.
"No," Holmes said. "I hardly had the patience for such things, and my parents did not go out of their way to provide them."
I sat back in my chair. "I suppose it was a different time."
He cocked his head. "What do you mean?"
Now it was my turn to shrug. "A new toy has recently come over from America. It is called a 'teddy bear,' I understand, after their recent President. Now it seems like every child I meet of any means is carrying one."
The story I'd heard on the teddy bear's origins was an amusing one, and Holmes listened indulgently as I expounded on it. It was a far cry from the earlier years of our acquaintance; I doubted Holmes would even have feigned interest in such a topic. At length, I bid him goodnight and retired to the guest room he kept in readiness for my visits. The next day, Holmes saw me off to the train station, and though he behaved most cheerfully, I thought I saw something like wistfulness or sadness in his eyes.
That look haunted me in the following days and weeks, and so it was when I at last returned to Sussex, I brought with me a small stuffed bear.
Holmes gave me an arch look when I presented it. "Am I to consider this a comment upon my age, that I am approaching second childhood, Watson?"
"Not at all," I said with a smile. "It simply gives me pleasure to give it to you. As a token of friendship."
As I knew he would, he gingerly accepted the gift. "A rather odd token, my dear fellow. But come in. My housekeeper has just prepared tea."
A year later, I arrived once more at the cottage in Sussex. As I saw the empty hives and entered the silent house where my friend had lived, I felt once more the weight of my terrible grief. Holmes had passed suddenly in the night, with no opportunity to send for me. After so many years of friendship, I had not been at his side when he had needed me most. I made no attempt to hold back my tears as I moved through the rooms one by one.
But as I entered the bedroom, I saw something that struck my heart, a healing cut even as it bled.
A stuffed bear, propped carefully on the pillows.