After a while, I finally managed to sit up, "Oh my God, I am so sorry," I said to the person I had just completely ran over. "Wait, Scarlett? Is that you?"
Scarlett Holmes propped herself up on one elbow and she covered her head with the other hand. I quickly stood up and tried to help her to her feet.
"Are you hurt?" I asked noticing she hadn't removed her hand away from her forehead.
"It's nothing, just a little cut," she responded stiffly.
"Let me see it," I said, pulling her hand away. Her forehead was cut just above the left eye and blood trickled into her eyebrow. "Come over here so that I can clean that up." I pulled her by the hand to a wooden bench off the path. I kept a small first-aid kit in my bag. Hey, don't give me that, 'you're a doctor for God's sake' look. First-aid kits come in handy. I took out a small rag and poured water on it from a tiny water bottle. I then gently dabbed it over Scarlett's cut.
"That stings," she hissed.
"Don't wine, this will help it from getting infected," I said.
"You really keep a first-aid kit in your bag?" she asked sarcastically.
"They come in handy!"
"Shouldn't you be at work now?"
"This is working."
"You saw the bank, didn't you?" I didn't respond. I just threw away the bloody rag and took out a bandage.
"How did you know about the nurse this morning?" I asked trying to get the conversation away from the homicide.
"I didn't know, I noticed."
"What?"
"And let's just leave it at that," she said firmly.
"Alright, all done," I said after I had slipped the band-aid on top of her cut. "Again, I'm so sorry about running into you. Is there any way I can make it up to you somehow?"
"Just try to forget about it," she said. Scarlett stood up, tightened her blue scarf and walked away without another word.
That night, I had trouble eating. I sat at the table staring at my food without having even picked up a fork.
"What's bothering you, James?" asked my mother.
I decided to swallow it and tell them. "I met this girl today and her name was really familiar."
"What was it, son?" asked my dad taking a sip of his wine.
"Holmes." My dad spit his drink out and my mother dropped her silverware with a clang. "What? Do you know her?"
"John, we should tell him," said my mum.
"Tell me what?"
"No, Mary, I won't let him get into that kind of trouble."
"I saw a dead woman today!" I shouted. My parents shut up and stared at me. "Yeah, I said it. I was at a scene where I saw a woman with her head bashed in and a note written in her blood. No one has been murdered in London for 20 years! Since I was like 4 years old! Then suddenly I run into this girl with a name a barely remember? Now drop the crap and tell me who the hell Holmes is!"
My mum and dad stared at me in shock; I was actually shocked at myself for saying all that. My dad pushed his plate away and took a deep breath. "Sherlock Holmes was a great man and at one point, my best friend. And I'll bet that girl you met, Scarlett, if remember her name correctly, is, in fact, his only daughter."
"If he was your best friend what happened to him?"
"We had a small falling out."
"Small, dear, you bought this house just to get away from him," said mum.
"As I was saying; when I became engaged to your mother, I told Sherlock that I needed to retire from detective work."
"Wait, you were a detective? You never told me that, dad," I said.
"That's another stories for another time, son. Anyway, I knew that if I kept doing what I was doing with Sherlock, it could, at some point, cost me my life or Mary's. Sherlock wasn't at all happy about it but I left anyway. We didn't speak again until six years later; just after you turned four. He called me saying that he was sorry that he finally understood why I left the business."
"Alright, so he apologized and you became friends again?" I asked.
"Yes, then I went to meet with him at our old flat and discovered what had made him come to his senses."
"What was it?"
"His newborn daughter, Scarlett Holmes. At first I couldn't believe that he could even have children but there she was. He told me that her mother had left them. Suddenly, Scarlett was the only thing on his mind, the apple of his eye and holder of his heart; Sherlock Holmes, one of the greatest minds of our generation, had become retired."
"I still don't understand. If you two became friends again, how come I haven't seen him around?"
"Because he went missing, James; around the time you were seven. Sherlock just disappeared without a trace. Many said he died but no body was ever found. But others, very few others, say that he's still alive somewhere."
"Including you?"
"Including me. I watched him die once, James. I know he's not dead."
"What happened to Scarlett after Sherlock disappeared?" I asked.
"She went under the care of Mrs. Hudson, our land lady on Baker Street. Though technically, I am her Godfather."
"Wait did you say Baker Street?" I had no idea why this question came out before the Godfather thing.
"Yep, 221B Baker Street."
My head started to spin again. "If you'll excuse me." I got from my chair and went upstairs to my bedroom. Once up there, I closed the door and took out my laptop. I searched 'Sherlock Holmes' to find newspaper articles and stories covering crimes that he, with the shocking help of my dad, had solved. I even found a website of his which hadn't been updated in years called 'The Science of Deduction.' I stayed awake for hours into the night reading from the lit screen, and it still didn't make sense to me. How the hell could anyone tell an airplane pilot by his left thumb? I even found an old blog by John Watson on cases they had done together. I read and read until my alarm clock went off at 6 in the morning.