Chapter Text
For Sherlock Holmes, losing the power of sight was most likely the worst occurrence that could have come to pass, second only, perhaps, to losing his great mind. Then again, perhaps not, because now his mind would most likely be the death of him, it being imprisoned as it was with no outlet. Lestrade and Watson tried their best to aid him, but their efforts were no match for the terrible ferocity of his brain, and he knew he could not continue on like this for much longer.
That is, until his dear Doctor saved him. One day, when he was in the grip of the blackest depression, and he knew it not to be long before he left this miserable plane of existence, the Doctor approached his bedside. “Holmes,” he said simply. “Come along, we’ll be late.”
“Late for what?” Holmes croaked.
Watson started flitting around, preparing to set out. “Lestrade has a new case for us. Something about a young lawyer and a murdered builder out in Norwood. The young lawyer came running into his office this morning begging him not to arrest him before he could explain himself. Lestrade says the case seems right up your alley.”
“Oh, I cannot help Lestrade, Watson. I am of no use to him.”
“On the contrary, my fellow, Lestrade thinks you will be of enormous help, and he wants you to journey to the crime scene in Norwood.”
“Watson,” Holmes moaned, “Have you forgotten that I cannot even see? What use does Lestrade have of me when I cannot view the evidence?”
“Oh, calm yourself, old chap. Lestrade did not ask for your eyes, merely your brain. I trust that is still in working order. Besides,” Watson said, pausing his bustling to stare at Holmes kindly, “I can be your eyes.”
Holmes paused his sorrowful brooding for a moment. He adopted a pensive expression, then apparently made up his mind and stood up quickly, seizing his walking stick from beside his bed. “You know, Watson,” he said, “I believe you can continue your little written collection of our adventures yet. Yes, let us go view this Norwood mystery.” Arm-in-arm, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson departed to shed light in a dark world once again.
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Being an Excerpt from the Diary of John H. Watson, M.D.
It is with great joy that I am able to pen more of our adventures. The case I just set to paper, which I decided to call “The Adventure of the Norwood Builder,” was solved successfully by Holmes, even despite his lack of vision. Our system was faultless. I would tell him what I observed, then he would press me for details, of which there were inevitably more. Sometimes, he even told me what to look for, because he had expected to find something or other. If I wasn’t available, Lestrade would work with him. For the sake of his safety and privacy I omitted his newfound blindness from the written account of our adventures. What would happen if a surviving member of Moriarty’s empire discovered Holmes’ disability? I decided to just tell the story as if Holmes had seen the clues for himself, without my input as a middle step. Anyway, this is why I included the following the sentence in the “Norwood Builder,” in order to explain his short hiatus:
“...he bound me in the most stringent terms to say no further word of himself, his methods, or his successes -- a prohibition which, as I have explained, has only now been removed.”
I am elated that he pulled himself back from the brink, though he continues to credit me for his recovery. I hope for many more thrilling adventures to come. In fact, I think I hear a cab now, approaching with yet another lost soul needing the shining light of Sherlock Holmes.
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