The Head And The Heart- A collection of Sherlock Holmes stories

A collection of stories about Sherlock Holmes, the well-known and well-loved detective, and his trusted friend and biographer Dr. Watson. "Reichenbach Feels" is set immediately after the unfortunate events of 'The Final Problem'. We follow the landlady of 221B, young Rebecca Hudson, on a quest to fill the void left behind by the untimely death of a lodger. In "A Case of Identity" a nightmare that has haunted our heroes becomes true: Professor Moriarty has finally outwitted them. And so we witness them planning a spectacular flight... "Both or None" depicts the best friendship in literature: Holmes and Watson have often saved each other's life- but what if nothing is safe, and no one is saved? Can one live without the other? Features two bonus stories: "Better Words Than These" describes what an impending war in the early 1900s might mean for a certain retired army surgeon, and his friend... In "The Fourth Wall" our heroes face the problem of an author vexed by his creations...

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34. II. 8. Without His Boswell

Everything had changed. I hardly recognized myself, now that I was without my beloved doctor. There were days when I just stayed in bed, lacking motivation and vigor to persuade myself to do anything. An impression of senselessness had seized me. For weeks I categorically refused to see any clients or visitors. I did not care what everybody thought, nor who may need my help.

My eyes closed against the obtrusive, garish life outside, I relived over and over in my daydreams and my nightmares how my poor Watson had exhaled his last breath in my arms.
My only visitors after the funeral were occasionally my brother, but also some old aquaintances from the Yard. Often Inspector Lestrade and I would just sit by the fire, our glasses in our hands, in mutual silence. This, however, were the only times when I could find some peace of mind. The mere presence of another person already helped me to be slightly more composed.
Whenever I was alone, I was terribly missing the signs of the existence of a fellow lodger.
I was missing the sound of footfalls which weren't my own.
I was missing a familiar voice, a well-known face, a trusted friend.

Occasionally, I would deal with some small incidents or problems which were brought to my notice, only to do something. It often were rather trivial matters, but even there I could sense what immense loss my friend Watson's absence meant.

I found that even the brightest head would need a heart.

And without his Boswell, even the most brilliant Johnson was lost.

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