Chapter Text
As we continued, I thought no more of my observation, until I realised I had become one of that crowd. I watched as Holmes turned around, surprised at having lost touch with me. He put out his hand, and, although I could see him quite clearly, it became quickly apparent that he could not see me. I forced my way through the crowd until I was no further than a foot in front of Holmes’ face.
Then he realised where I was, and reached out to touch me, but his fingers slid through my arm. We both gave an involuntary start at this. His expression of anguish cut me to the quick.
He thought quickly. “Can you follow me?” he asked.
My voice was nothing but a whisper, blown away as soon as it left my mouth. I nodded instead, but unsure how well he could see me, I bowed, and he saw that, for he said, “Good!”
He turned around and walked back to Baker Street, and I followed him as closely as I could. There was such a crowd of other ghostly beings that I was somewhat jostled, but steadfastly continued in the direction I knew he was taking.
Once back in our rooms, it was clear Holmes could not see me at all. I sat in my usual armchair and, by dint of blowing hard, disturbed the papers sufficiently he realised where I was.
He sat opposite me, and said, “Watson, I have no idea what has happened. But believe me, I will not rest until I have recovered you in your correct form.”