The Final Tales of Sherlock Holmes - Volume 1 (12 page)

Epilogue.

And so it was that when Holmes invited me to continue my stay at 221B Baker Street and see out my remaining days in his eccentric company as a twice-widowed bachelor, with no hint whatsoever of the love that dare not speak its name, I accepted with alacrity. After all, we were two halves of the same person, I believe. Like David and Jonathan. One soul in two bodies. I still didn't know the full truth of his teenage behaviour with Conan Arthur, whose story was never corroborated by Holmes himself. And I couldn't love him in the same way that Arthur had loved him. But I loved him yet. Who is to say that Platonic love is less intense or profound than sexual love? I could only hope that my influence might curb his new-found enthusiasm for taking the law into his own hands when pursuing criminals.

I would transfer my small practice back into my old room, and we would continue our detecting while I treated my occasional patients, the pair of us to be kept in line by the wonderful ring mistress Lily, our fellow bloodhound and code-breaker, with young Lestrade to help us out when necessary. I had to reluctantly accept the inevitable passing of time and cease fantasising about our well-endowed housekeeper. There was a chance I might yet be called upon to give her away in holy matrimony to young Jasper one day, and that was definitely worth looking forward to.

It's called retirement by some, but then neither of us anticipated the sheer variety of dark and desperate adventures that lay ahead over the following six years, each of which I have documented separately. Maybe I'll call them ‘
The Final Tales Of Sherlock Holmes'
and dedicate the collection to the memory of the world's first consulting detective and the straightest friend that any man could have.

You never know.

Some day in the distant future the general public might be ready to appreciate these arcane stories.

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