Chapter One

I remember well that day that I went out with Sherlock Holmes for the first time after he got off of the plane.

In case you didn't know, my name is Dr. John H Watson, formerly from the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers, and now a doctor at St. Bart's Hospital. 

Sherlock Holmes is my best friend.  Now, something about Sherlock: He's very very smart.  He can tell an engineer by his left thumb.  Sherlock is a consulting detective, the only one in the world, he likes to tell me.  He invented the job.

Although he is smart, incredible, amazing, and fantastic, he also has bad parts to him.  He is spectacular ignorant in many ways.  Sherlock doesn't understand how the Solar System works because he "deleted" it from his brain.  He is also very judgmental.  He usually rubs people up the wrong way.  Sherlock smokes cigarettes, and I recently found out that he also takes drugs like morphine and cocaine on occasion.  He says his work is an alternative to getting high.

But after all of that, he has magnificent hair.

Another great person in my life would be my wife and love, Mary Watson.  Mary is lovely, really.  She is kind, funny, and beautiful. 

For our wedding, I asked Sherlock to be my Best Man.  He accepted and gave a wonderful speech.  I've never seen that side of him before, the affectionate side.  He is usually a cold rock.

Mary is actually a retired assassin, but we got around that little detail.  There was a fight, and months of silence, but we made up, in the end. 

Mary is also carrying our baby.  We think it'll be a girl.

An important factor in mine and Sherlock's life is the villain.  We have tackled so many cases, it's hard to remember them all.  But the three that stood out were probably the worst villains you could encounter.

I'll start with Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother.  Now, don't get me wrong, Mycroft is a totally good guy, but is practically the British government, as Sherlock puts it.  When I first met Mycroft, he seemed like an enemy.  Sherlock calls him his "arch enemy".  Sherlock does love to be dramatic.  Mycroft could be dangerous if he had to, so I would advise you not to go near him.

Next on the list would be Jim Moriarty, the mastermind that almost beat Sherlock.  He is a sociopath, much like Sherlock, but evil.  In our first meeting, he tried to blow both Sherlock and me up.  He had a bomb attached to my body.

Sherlock had pulled a gun, but Moriarty got a better offer at the last second, and we let him go.

Moriarty of course returned (they always do), and attempted to steal the Crown Jewels.  Well, in a way, he did.  He managed to break into the Tower of London, the Bank of England, and Pentonville Prison all in the same afternoon.  Moriarty brought Sherlock in to talk in court. 

Moriarty was succeeding little by little in destroying Sherlock's entire reputation.  He teamed up with newspaper reporter Kitty Reilly, and got information from Mycroft, and literally surrounded a big lie, Sherlock's a fake and invented Moriarty, with actually facts to seem true.

Sherlock figured out how to stop him just as Moriarty made up a new game called "Make Sherlock Commit Suicide By Jumping Off A Building And Dying In Disgrace And Complete The Story".

Moriarty threatened Sherlock by telling him that if he didn't jump, his boys would fire three shots, three victims: Greg Lestrade, a Detective Inspector of the Scotland Yard, and one of our friends, Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, and me, Sherlock's best friend deep inside, even if he didn't know it, yet.

Sherlock knew how to keep us safe, but underestimated how far Moriarty would actually go to make sure Sherlock jumped.  Moriarty fired a bullet into his mouth, blowing out his brains.  Moriarty took his own life so that there was no way for Sherlock to stop the killers.

Sherlock stood on the edge, and called my mobile.  We had one last phone call, and he fell off of the 70 foot St. Bart's Hospital building to his death.

I was shocked; little did I know he was actually saving my life and the lives of others.  I lived in grief for two years, but in those two years, I met Mary Morston, and ended up proposing to her.

Well, it took two tries.  The first time, Sherlock interrupted to tell me he wasn't dead.

It turned out Sherlock had faked his death, and was returning to London to fight of an underground terrorist attack. I was kind of steamed at him because he let me mourn for two years without telling me he was alive.

It wasn't until the night of the fire that I let him be my friend again.  I was captured, and put into a Guy Fox Day bonfire, and Mary identified clues.  Sherlock came to save me, and they both pulled me from the burning wood, and I was okay.  Sherlock had saved my life, so the next day I went to his flat to make up.

We solved the terrorist attack, and many more cases after that.

The last villain that "turned Sherlock's stomach" would be Charles Augustus Magnussen.  Magnussen was the Napoleon of Blackmail.  The personal freedom of anyone was a myth as long as he was alive.

He had records on everybody, stored in his house, Appledore.  We found out that he had no copies of the documents, he just remembered them all, in his mind palace.  Sherlock was the only one whom I had known had a mind palace, and maybe Mycroft.  The mind palace is a memory technique, and Sherlock relies on it to solve his cases.

Magnussen had secrets about Mary being an assassin, and we had to stop him.  When Sherlock realized there was actually no way to stop this horrible business man, he knew what he had to do.  The last words were pretty amazing, too.  It went like this:

Magnussen: Sorry, no way for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes!

Sherlock: Oh, do your research! I'm not a hero! I'm a high-functioning sociopath, merry Christmas!

And Sherlock shot him.  Because that was the only thing he could do to save the innocent lives that he messed up.

Because Sherlock was now considered a "murderer", he was sent into exile, or a "mission trip".  We had one last conversation before Mary and I watched the plane fly away.

We then got the news that someone of was on every TV screen in the country shouting "Did you miss me? Did you miss me?", and that person was none other than Jim Moriarty.  The plane landed again, because this is a Sherlock Holmes-sized problem. 

While Sherlock was still on the plane, we found out that he had been on cocaine.  We got him home, and I cared for him.

This is where our story begins, my friends.  Sorry for so much backstory, but our lives are full.