Written: 10-13-12
Friend
When Sherlock Holmes had first arrived on the scene, most of the Law scoffed at him. Who was he to think he could solve a case they, with all their time and resources, could not? His natural arrogance didn't help matters, making them rather irritated with his presence and rather disinclined to listen.
With time, they realized Holmes was usually correct and bestowed their reluctant respect on the amateur – though they would never tell him, surely, and any of his surmises would be met with disbelief until further proven. The man worked alone – arrogance again, was their conjecture. A man of Holmes's brilliance and impatience simply could not stand another man at his heels.
It was only when the veteran doctor appeared on the scene that they changed their thoughts. Watson was constantly at his side, uncomplaining, soon affixed there with a blatant camaraderie they had thought the detective incapable of harboring. Soon too they noticed the determined loyalty, not unreturned in the least, subtly inflected in their every move.
Judgments, at long last, were rendered false. They had let their opinions get in the way, judging the man as they would and not bothering to look for the truth. And now, now that they had let barriers of contempt bar the way, they realized what they had lost.
None of them had realized that in this cynical, caustic young genius were the makings of an unwavering friend.