10:25

My bag was packed and I was ready to start this new assignment, and new chapter in my life as a safekeeper. Now, all I needed was for said assignment to show up. I had been told by my senior officer that Mr. Holmes was not a man known for his punctuality, so I shouldn't worry if there was a delay to his arrival. But I hadn't really expected a 25 minute delay. One of the few traits I pride myself in is my own ability to arrive right at the accorded time, but here I was, my patience wearing thin with each tick of my watch. Just as I was about to head to Senior Harrison's office, his messenger stopped me before I could even reach for my bag. She gave a short salute before handing me a blue note.

"Sr. Harrison received word that you are to meet your new charge at the address written on that slip. Please head there now Mr. Watson."

St. Bartholomew's Hospital, the note read. Curious. I had expected the address to have been of his home. Thinking back to his profile report, Mr. Holmes sometimes used medical labs to aid his work. This must be one of the laboratories he used, meaning he was probably working on a case. This thought brought a feeling in me I hadn't felt in a while, curiosity. What kind of case was it? Most likely it was a murder investigation if he needed a medical lab. Without any more of a delay I headed (rather eagerly, I will admit), to the given hospital.

St. Bartholomew's Hospital

I poked my head in through the lab's open door "Hello?" I waited a few seconds for a response but none came.

"Hello? I'm looking for a Mr. Holmes, Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" I called out again. Silence. Not sure what I should do, I decided against going back to the front desk and walked inside to have a look around. The walls were white, as one would expect the walls of a lab to be. Microscopes and a few closed laptops sat on the pristine counters, while bottles and flasks of various sizes lined the shelves. There wasn't a hint that my charge had been here except for an open computer on the far end of the first counter. I walked to it and saw that while it was open, the laptop was off. Thinking he must have run out for a second or two, I chose to stand by his computer and wait for him to return. As I waited, a sudden crack broke through the silence in the laboratory. I turned in the direction it had come from, my ears straining and another crack sounded. Careful not to make a sound of my own, I stalked in the direction the cracks had come from. The lab was vast so it took me a bit to cross to the other side of the room. Once there, I saw a window I hadn't seen when I had first entered the room. Still as quiet as before, I crept up to it and found the source of the noises.

A tall man stood at the front of the lab's adjoining room, a corpse lying on a table in the center of the space. He walked around the table, twirling a riding crop as he did so. Once, twice, he went around the dead body, analyzing it from every possible angle. After the second time around, the man stopped at the body's feet, riding crop still inexplicably in hand. Without a moment's hesitation the man raised the riding crop into the air and let it come down with a loud crack as he struck a lifeless shin. Again and again he whipped at the corpse, never pausing the abuse. I thought about finding a way into the room to stop the madman from his continued desecration but a soft, "Can I help you?" made me whirl around in surprise instead.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked again.

I gave her the customary SK* salute and showed her my badge, "I'm looking for a Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I was told to meet him here." I refrained from adding, "Are you aware that there is a madman in that room beating a corpse?"

Her pretty face brightened at the mention of Mr. Holmes, "I think you already found him Mr... Watson was it?"

I nodded to her question, then asked one of my own, "The man in there? The one whipping a corpse, that's Mr. Holmes?" My earlier curiosity turned to slight dread.

"The one and only!" was her bright response, "he's conducting an experiment, so you shouldn't be alarmed," she added quickly.

"A rather unconventional experiment I take it?"

She chuckled, "Well, he is a rather unconventional man. It's only natural his work would reflect that of him. Molly Hooper by the way," she extended a hand to me, which I shook.

"He won't be long, so it's alright if you wait for him out here Mr. Watson."

Just as she finished giving me her suggestion, the door to the other room opened and out walked my charge, crop in hand and a coat in the other.

"Ah, you're here. Good. I'm done here so let's get going."

Ms. Hooper flushed, "Where?"

"Oh! Molly, I didn't notice you there. I was referring to my new safekeeper. You are him, right?" he asked me directly.

I saluted, "SK John Watson, rank 2, class A** at your disposal sir."

"Right. On our way then."

I followed him out of the lab, a flushed Ms. Hooper left behind. Once we were at the hospital's entrance, he paused to put on his coat. He pulled up the collar then surprised me by reaching out a hand towards me. I looked down at his outstretched hand, not sure how to proceed. As safekeepers we were to spend every hour of every day by our charges' side, but without interaction, like a second shadow. Always there, silent, and out of the way. A couple seconds passed so he quickly retracted his gloved hand and started with a small cough, "Well, Mr…? What exactly do I call you? I'm afraid I'm not well versed in this whole safekeeper business."

Again, I wasn't sure how I should respond. I could only blink at him as I thought of a way to answer his question without breaking any rules. In training we are told not to speak to our charges, unless absolutely necessary. And they themselves don't speak to us, unless absolutely necessary. Did this constitute as absolutely necessary? He didn't give me a chance to find out. He cleared his throat, then waved a hand in the air.

"Let's forget that for now. Where I stay isn't too far from here. We can walk."

This time I gave him a short nod and this seemed to satisfy him because he gave me a small smile before starting on his way again.

"I'll just call you Watson," he said over his shoulder some few minutes later, "Not too informal and it is your name."

The words, "Why do you keep talking to me? It isn't protocol," flashed through my mind. This all-seer was my charge and as his safekeeper I could not question what he did or said, but him talking to me again in the span of ten minutes was just ridiculous. The rest of the walk was done so in silence, that is until we reached our destination.

"Well, here we are," He awkwardly raised an arm in a sort of "ta-da" motion, then proceeded to cross the empty street, me trailing behind him. I turned up to look at the building and almost laughed. This man was an all-seer. All-seers lived in lavish homes, some borderline gaudy to go with their whole "I can see all" persona. The building that he apparently lived in was far from that. It was a big enough structure but seemed to house a number of flats, along with a small cafe. This man really was... unconventional. I wasn't sure if this added to my curiosity or to my dread. Hoping it was the former, I followed him through the door next to the cafe.

"Ah, good. It seems that Mrs. Hudson isn't here. So, no nonsensical questions about who you are and why you're here. At least for now."

I followed him up the stairs as he went on, "She's the housekeeper," then added under his breath, "even if she does say otherwise."

Once we reached the top of the stairs he turned to me to say, "Please excuse the...mess. I've been working on a few experiments and haven't had the time to 'tidy up' as they say."

With that, he turned back to unlock his flat. He swung the door open wide and motioned for me to enter fist. I was about to walk in when I caught a good glimpse of the flat, and balked. The living space, if one could call it that, was cluttered. No, cluttered wasn't the right word. Messy didn't quite fit either. No, I don't think that any word in the English language could fully describe the place Sherlock Holmes called "home". Newspapers littered the floor, accompanied by books and scattered articles of clothing. Stacks, correction, towers of books and journals were placed throughout the small room. Most were stacked haphazardly, threatening to topple at the softest sneeze or slightest breeze. A chair was toppled over on the floor, its cushions lying askew next to it. Cups and small saucers with questionable contents covered the surface of a small coffee table. I could go on and on about the scene that greeted me, but I'm afraid that it would take too much of your time and I do not wish to bore you. Besides, I think you get the picture. Chaos, utter chaos is what Mr. Holmes lived in. And my duty as his safekeeper was to join him in his chaos.

Thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed the chapter! I'm still working on this AU world, so updates won't be a regular thing.

*SK- safekeeper

**rank 2, class A- There are 6 ranks in the safekeeper profession. Rank 1 has 2 classes while the other ranks have 3 classes of SKs; Class A, B, and C. The class depends on how proficient you are in your rank. The highest being Class A. Once an SK surpasses their Class A position, they move up a rank.