Another grand story by mydogwatson! I’ve been delayed at posting these, busy as always; but I haven’t forgotten my favorite writer! We relive that special moment, when John Watson and Sherlock Holmes first meet. The story has changed slightly, but nevertheless perfect! Art by sh2jw!
A teaser to Over The Garden Wall:
My life as a proud member of Her Majesty’s military was over. Possibly even my career as a physician had seen its end. The pain in my leg was unrelenting, not withstanding that the injury itself had actually been in my shoulder. The weakness brought about by the dreadful fevers that had almost finished the work of the bullet lingered still.
Even now it shames me to admit that there were days back then when I fervently wished for nothing more than that death had found me on the blood-stained sands of that damnable foreign place.
Such was the state of one John H. Watson on the day that I finally gave in to the chivvying of the sister on duty and left the confines of my room so that it could be tidied and aired. The hated walking stick made an annoying sound as it struck the cinder path, as if to remind me that whilst I might flee the room, the despair accompanied me, my only faithful companion.
I made my slow way through the vast back garden, attempting to amuse myself with the notion that I was actually promenading in Hyde Park, perhaps on my way to a pleasant dinner party. By the time I reached the back stone wall, I was more than ready to take a seat on the brightly painted wooden bench situated there. I took out my faithful old Meerschaum and spent some time getting a good burn going. With the familiar and comforting taste of the shag and the bright blue sky overhead, I felt myself relax just a bit and tried to set the bitterness aside for at least a moment.
I do not know how long the man had been leaning on the wall, watching me. It was not until he spoke that I was pulled from my own thoughts and turned to look at him.
And what a sight he was.
Tall, slender, with a mass of dark curls that did not seem to have ever been within reach of even a dab of pomade. His complexion was pale, although not the unhealthy pallor of my fellow patients and myself; rather it was a creamy ivory. He wore a shirt in a quite unsuitable shade of purple which suited him perfectly.
For the full story go to Over The Garden Wall! Comments are appreciated!
Big thanks to mydogwatson for always sharing these wonderful stories!