Muse
He was a quiet man, with a quiet life not given to theatrics or emotion. He was content tending his shop. His small business often drew the type of customers who lingered and liked to chat. He didn't mind, he enjoyed hearing others natter about their lives, though he rarely said much in return. People always said he was a good listener.
Evenings were spent in his comfortable chair, reading voraciously. He had a secret penchant for whodunits and murder mysteries.
He decided to donate his body to science when he died. It seemed the right thing to do as there was no one to mourn his passing. In due time, his skeleton found it's way into a teaching hospital.
Eventually, the skeleton was damaged in a senseless prank. What remained was retired to a box on a shelf and forgotten. Years passed. The storage area was cleaned and the box of old bones was gathered with other items to be incinerated.
"Hello!" A deep voice said in way of introduction as strong fingers plucked the skull from the pile of rubbish.
Piercing bluish-green eyes stared intently into vacant eye sockets. An odd connection was forged, like a meeting of kindred spirits, or a fulfillment of destiny.
"Yes, you will do nicely." Sherlock said with satisfaction. "I shall call you Billy."