It is snowing again. That means it is too cold for rain. I dislike snow. It hinders me to solve the murder case I am workin on. Scotland Yard is confused as usual and has called me to help.
This case isn´t a simple one and I am glad that it isn´t. After nearly two weeks of forced passivity, my mind longed for a worthy challenge.

It is a difficult case and the snow and cold of the winter aren´t helping.
I always have loathed the winter. It is too cold for the criminals of London. Few crimes are commited.

When I was younger, my parents did not allow me outside when it was cold. They didn´t want me to become ill.

Not that they were concerned, for my elders were cold people who didn´t show me, nor my brother, any affection.

They didn´t want a sick child in their household and the fuss it would cause. So I stayed indoors.
I liked being outside and obsering things, even as young as I was back then, so winter became my most hated season. I came to loathe the forced inactivity and the cold. I like the warmer weather of spring and summer, when I can go for walks and let my thoughts linger on different problems.

A quiet cough interrupts my musings. I don´t have to turn around to see who cought.

It is Watson. A docter himself, but he has become ill.

Oh, he assures me that it is just a cold and that he is perfectly fine, but I know my Watson.
Watson constantly complains about me not caring about my health, yet he works everyday, in every weather, every time of the year. May it snow or hail or be a red-hot hot day in summer.

He hates to see people suffer. He has seen a lot of suffering in his career and will continue to do so. He is a doctor after all.

I noticed him not being well on an evening four days ago. He hast returned late from work and once he came into the living room, he had a bad coughing spell because of the sudden change from icy cold to warm air.

I told him to rest. I know that he will continue to work and become even more ill if I don´t insist.
So he is sitting quite peacefully in his chair now.

Just one more reason to dislike cold and winter, is Watson being ill. I am so used to his presence while solving cases that I am disturbed by his absence.

I quickly throw him another glance. He is sitting and staring into the flames of the fireplace. I wonder if his wounds is bothering him. It is an unusually cold winter. The cold causes his shoulder to stiffen and his leg to ache so he can´t move well and it is painful when he does. Does it hurt less now, after all this years?

I hope so. He doesn't deserve to be in pain.

He darts a glance out of the window into the falling snowflakes. Watson is most likely thinking about the cold, too.
His gaze is pensive, not brooding as I expected. Watson can´t do much between resting, writing and reading while he is ill, so I expected him to be in one of his rare bad moods. What is he thinking about? I don´t seem to able to read him as well as I used to.

Usually his expression is easy to read and interpret, but after my three years of absence
and my sudden return five years ago his face and eyes have become more...'expressionless' seems to be an accurate description.

Sometimes he acts slightly cold as I myself do. There, this dreaded word again. Many negative things and memories I think about seem to revolve around this one word.

Cold.

I can see Watson´s reflection in the window studying me. I once again ask myself what he is thinking about. I guess it is the cold, the winter and the falling snow.

This conclusion appears to be most likely under the current circumstances.

What is his opinion about the cold?

I think I will just turn around now and ask him.