New York was busy, to begin with. That was the first way Sherlock Holmes described the city in a letter to his old friend Dr. John Watson. The city was busy and always seemed to be teeming with more diverse life than even the Streets of London could afford. A thousand different dramas could play out on a single street corner daily, and Holmes found the life invigorating, if a bit exhausting. After all, he was no longer a young man and had been working a case constantly for some time now.

His purpose in being there, he wrote to his old friend, would be over soon and he was planning on staying in America for a short while, traveling to see more of the young country. Wouldn't Watson come join him? It was with great joy Holmes read the answer that said he would. It would be a much better holiday with Watson by his side, Holmes knew, but he also had his own reasons for wanting his friend to come.

First and foremost was that Watson did not deserve to be alone. Not now of all times. Losing one wife is a sorrow many men face, and Watson was only one of many widowers in London. But losing a second wife? And after he'd spent so many years mending his heart after Mary? Holmes knew his poor friend must be feeling alone and depressed and in need of distraction. Jenny had been good for him, had loved him. He'd loved her as well, but in the end he'd had fewer years with her than with his first beloved. On top of that, both times Watson had lost the woman he loved, Holmes had been out of the country and got the message late, after the woman in question was buried. It was high time he helped his friend.

The second reason was that there would be no time for holidays in the very near future. The winds of war were already starting to blow, and England would not escape their gales. Holmes had sold his bees and stored the apiaries away in anticipation of his own war-time service. Be it in London, America, Germany, or elsewhere, Holmes knew his brother was soon to ask him for his help.

Watson, too, inevitably would sign up to help where he could. Holmes did not think he would be foolish enough to re-enlist—two bullets in a man must surely be enough to dissuade him from seeking a third—but Watson would certainly take up practice again in London lieu of the young men who couldn't. Or, perhaps, he'd spent his time volunteering at hospitals and charity houses as he did now. Either way, Holmes feared he may not see his dear friend for some time, and some happy memories of traveling now would be just what he needed to keep him sane when the world inevitably turned into chaos and his time was all spoken for.

It was early April and cold, but Holmes was plenty warm as he said goodbye to the rude, brusque New York inspectors who invited him to come look into the case. On the whole, it seemed the American police force was ruthless in tracking down their criminals (though sadly many politicians still walked the streets of New York), but we're no more imaginative than their cousins across the water. Really, Holmes had expected more from such a young, adventurous people as these Americans. Not that it really mattered now, his part was finished and in a few days Watson would be joining him. He'd already purchased tickets for a celebrated show on one of the Broadway stages.

With any luck, Watson's ship would arrive a few hours earlier than planned and they could take a boat to see a bit closer the statue of "Liberty Enlightening that World" which Auguste Bartholdi, a French sculptor Holmes had met many years ago, had fashioned for America. Holmes had secured Watson first-class passage on a new ship that boasted both luxury and speed and Holmes hoped the journey would help get his friend's mind off his troubles without him meeting too many interesting new people. After all, how many times have they had a holiday ruined by a chance meeting with someone who begged for Holmes' help? Too many to count, and Holmes was not about to let it happen this time. They both needed this.

All seemed well at first, and Holmes even received a wire from Watson on board the ship, cementing Holmes' belief that one day America and England and the entire world would be accessible to the common man. Yes, the world was shrinking, he mused as he bought train tickets to carry them through the American West. The train would take them in relative luxury along plains men had once died on forging their way across the wilderness. One day, train travel too would be outdated and a man wishing to go from New York to San Francisco to Asia would do it in a day, or perhaps in hours, and, Holmes theorized, in more luxury than even a train or boat could provide. Maybe in a plane large enough for many passengers, maybe in a airship, maybe in something not yet dreamed of. Yes, this was a time of great advancements.

And yet, in the midst of progress there is often failure and tragedy. That was the thought weighing on Holmes as he gently folded his newspaper, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and crossed to the mantle in his first-class hotel room. He leaned against it, resting his head on his own arm and staring at his reflection in the mirror on the wall and feeling the warmth of the fire on his legs and opening his mouth dumbly like a fish and just breathing for such a long time he forgot he'd asked for tea and the maid tired of knocking and went away without giving him any.

When he finally pulled away from the mantle, he left the hotel, moving automatically. The paper was like a brick in his pocket and its headline, in various forms, was everywhere: especially on the lips of New Yorkers. On her maiden voyage, the RMS Titanic had sunk.

Author's note: the day I post this, April 14, 2021, is the 109th anniversary of the night the Titanic hit an iceberg. She sank within a few hours, disappearing completely around 2:30 a.m. on Monday the 15th. Over a thousand of her passengers perished in the Atlantic.

Historical clarifications:

The Statue of Liberty was, at first, really called "Liberty Enlightening that World." I don't know how or why that name faded into just the Statue of Liberty. However, if you're interested in how she came to be a symbol of refuge for exiles instead of a monument to the friendship between America and France, look up Emma Lazarus. If uninterested, learn about her all the same.

The Titanic really did have a wireless to send messages to land and to other ships.