He is hiding in plain sight, holed up in the cold attic.

He is holding a book. The book is called South Sea Idyll. It is the story of a San Francisco man's love affair with a Tahitian boy. It is not a particularly tasteful book, but it calls to something in him. Perhaps it is not the subject of the book, but the love of the impossible that it recalls that draws him near.

His name is Sherlock Holmes.

He knows that he is different. He is horribly afraid.

He is seventeen years old.

Eventually, he begins to cry.