If you recognise it… I don't own it.
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"Sherlock Holmes" – Start
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Watson's POV
Three years have transpired since that fateful day at Reinbach Falls, yet the grief is still very real and present to me. Others I know have moved on, however I find myself unable to do so completely.
While I deeply miss the cases and adventures that we used to confront together, it is the man himself that I miss the most. Sometimes I think I catch a glimpse of my dearest friend, however it is merely my imagination.
As Holmes would have said: "An overly-romantic mind producing illogical and impossible delusions".
However even in the absence of Holmes, life carries on.
It has not been an easy three years for myself. Not three months after I lost Holmes, my wife, my beloved Mary, also passed away.
I doubt that it will surprise many readers that because of these losses I found consol in my work. Though many of you would be surprised to learn that I am no longer a simple Doctor.
It was about a month after my Mary's death that Inspector Lestrade approached me, some might say in desperation. He had a corpse on his hands, and none of the Police Surgeons could identify a cause of death. Indeed they were uncertain as to whether the death was natural or malicious in nature. I shall not go into any details in this accounting, however I can reveal that it was high profile case, with members of the aristocracy involved.
As such Lestrade turned to me in order to see what aid, if any, I could provide.
I confess I was flattered. Up until that point I had always believed that in the eyes of Scotland Yard I was a mere extension of Holmes. His "shadow" as I had once heard myself referred to.
I agreed to do what I could, thus began my carer as a part-time Police Surgeon. Much to my surprise I was the preferred Police Surgeon for both Inspector Lestrade and Inspector Gregson.
With two careers to my name, I had little time to languish to any great extent. What little time I could have spent doing so was also filled, by a most unexpected diversion.
It seems that at some point Holmes had charged his Irregulars with the task of watching over me. Protecting me, if you will, from common street thugs and pick-pockets. Even after Holmes' demise, Wiggins kept the duty alive in a homage to their 'guvenor'.
Once I was aware of the fact, I could hardly leave them to fend for themselves on the streets. I opened my home to them. In doing so I lost myself a housekeeper, since I was unable to find one who could cope with the street Arabs coming and going at all hours of the day and night. On the other hand, I gained an unusual family. Once I had obtained a few books on housekeeping and cookery, having a housekeeper and maids became unnecessary. The Irregulars, or the Doctor's Lads as Scotland Yard started calling them, took over any duties of the house that were needed. That included secretary and nurse for my practice, once I had sufficiently instructed them in letters and numbers.
I defy any person to believe that a child from a lower class would not thrive in an educational environment if they saw how quickly the Irregulars learnt. Though I should concede that they are not your average street Arabs, given that Holmes selected them for his Irregulars.
At least one, more often two, of the Irregulars accompany me almost at all times. Much to the amusement of the Yard, though the jokes became less malicious after Wiggins saved Inspector Bradshaw's life. They may not yet be fully grown, but the Irregulars are fierce and loyal defenders. Their fighting style, while originally purely that learnt on the streets, I have augmented with a little Baristu, a great deal of boxing, sword-stick, dagger work and some of the lessons I picked up in the Army, both officially and unofficially.
I cannot prevent the Irregulars from fighting, however by giving them the lessons I have, I hope that I have increased their ability to survive.
I will admit, at first I didn't see the point in their protection. However I came to understand why they were doing what they were doing.
In their short lives, very few people have showed them any kindness. Holmes and myself being the main two. They had lost Holmes, felt his passing as keenly as myself. They didn't wish to lose me. Whether or not they were aware of this desire, I do not know.
Strangely I came to enjoy having their presence around me. Their education was certainly varied due to my many visits around London.
They also were beneficial to my work. Both as a Doctor and as a Police Surgeon. I could often obtain information faster than a Police Officer.
It was one day while I was working on bandaging a boy's arm (he had fallen out of a tree, judging by the splinters I had had to remove and the bark stains I could see), when my whole world start to shift… In a way it had not shifted since Stamford had taken me to a hospital mortuary all those years ago.
"Inspector Lestrade wishes to see you, Doctor." Lucy bobbed as she entered the consulting room. Her affected accent was impeccably high middle class.
"Alive or dead?" I replied slightly blasé.
"Dead, Doctor." Lucy answered, equally calm.
"I will be with him presently." I declared, even as I finished tying the bandage around my patient's arm.
"You fix the dead too?" The six year old stared at me with amazement.
"Unfortunately no." I smiled, "I can't do that. However I can find out why they are dead, and if someone killed them."
"Then you catch them." The child grinned.
"Precisely." I agreed, "Now Tommy, no more climbing trees until that heals. Then be more careful. Your mother worries about you."
I presented the child back to his nanny, waiting until they had left the room, before departing myself.
I had no worries about leaving my practice for the day. While I occasionally make foolish decisions in gambling, when it comes to business I am far more astute. It may come as a surprise to many that I am not the only doctor in my practice.
Many doctors, once trained, find that they do not have the resources to set themselves up in practice. Whether this is at the start of their careers or later on it does not matter to me. The instant that I realized that my duties to the Yard could call me away at a moment's notice I started hiring doctors to aid my practice.
I have a strict hiring policy, being far more selective than most practices. To my surprise, I was recently informed by Alfie that being hired by my practice is a mark of honour among doctors, to the extent that they are often hired by hospitals and other practices over their equally qualified colleagues. What started as a necessity has developed into something far more advantageous.
I have strict principles that I expect my employees to abide by, and their work is regularly peer-reviewed to ensure only the best treatment for our patients.
"Can you reorganise the appointments, Sophie?" I asked the Irregular acting as the secretary for the day.
"Of course, Doctor." Sophie nodded, "The Inspector is in the hall. He did not wish to track mud inside."
The Yard had only once entered my practice with dirty boots. I was reliably informed that they were still smarting from the reprimand I had given them. It was not an uncommon sight at my practice to find a row of police boots lined up in the hallway, particularly when one of their own was injured. The Irregulars actually charged the Yard for the cleaning of the boots, which inevitably would occur.
I had learnt many things on the Plains of Afghanistan. One of the most important being the fact that Monsieur Pasteur has recently confirmed, dirt causes infection. I had not understood how or why. I still do not fully comprehend. However I refuse to let mere dirt cause me to lose any patients.
I walked out into the hall, the Inspector was fighting the urge to pace. As I approached, Jack came out of the side-room. Acting as the butler for the day, Jack presented me with my coat, my hat, my cane and my bag.
"Thank you." I nodded, as he helped me into the coat, "You may eat in the kitchen tonight."
"Thank you, Doctor." Jack smiled broadly.
The Irregulars don't like my instance that they dress up for dinner, if they attend it in the main dining room. It has become a reward that I allow them to eat in the kitchen for the meal. The bribes it took to instil proper manners I will not repeat.
"Inspector." I smiled at the agitated man, "Do you have a hansom waiting?"
"Yes." Lestrade nodded, "Your lads are worse than guard dogs."
"So you've informed me before." I laughed as we climbed into the hansom cab, barely a heart beat behind us, two more of my children climbed in.
Al and Allie, the twins, both impeccably dressed.
"High profile murder?" I asked.
"That's what I need you to tell me." Lestrade leant back in the cab, "It's the Honourable Ronald Adair."
"Park Lane." I realized, "Best behaviour you two."
"Yes Doctor." The twins laughed.
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Please Review.
A new fandom for me. I've read plenty of these before and decided to try my hand at an initial chapter.
As you may guess, this is an altered version of 'The Empty House'.
Do I have the good Doctor down?