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- I found it, Holmes!
- Congratulations, Watson. I never doubted you would locate your article. Oh dear, it seems your article is even more perverted than my own.
- My God, Holmes! Do you really view my intelligence as being so inferior to your own?
- Well...Not to this extent, I assure you. It appears as though you will have to be charged with rewriting another of these articles.
- Certainly not! You know very well, Holmes, that a biographer cannot recall the accomplishments of himself lest he come off as being arrogant and conceited.
- You are right, Watson, and if I am following your train of thought correctly, then you are implying that I should document your past accomplishments since you have so often yourself documented mine.
- But Holmes, there is a statement above advising others not to remedy this article.
- Hypocrites, Watson, utter hypocrites! The person who added this can only either be the original author who is tired of his article being continuously reviewed or a later biographer who feels he has perfected this scandalous article and does not want others to tinge with it. Taking the latter as our working hypothesis since it is more probable, it is easy to see the arrogance and hypocrisy of such a warning. Whoever it is, it's safe to say they have limited actual knowledge of you (this is made obvious by the article itself) and likely base your character upon popular misconceptions.
- That certainly sounds plausible.
- Quite so. Now, let's not delay in recreating this article.
Watson is a retired army doctor best known for documenting my exploits from the years of 1881 to 1914. Despite his average intelligence (some would call this description generous), he has a very remarkable talent for storytelling and has often embellished and over dramatised many of my past experiences.
Dr. John Hamish Watson was born in 1852. His brother has recently died a drunk and is left as the only representative of his family. Watson graduated from the University of London in 1878 where he gained a degree of Doctor of Medicine before applying as a surgeon in the British Army. Watson was struck down in the second Afghan war during the Battle of Maiwand before ending his career from the army after a length of two weeks.
- Not what you would call a beneficial service to the British Crown, eh, Watson?
- Holmes! Is this how you view my misfortunes?
- Tut, tut, Watson. I am simply adding an element of entertainment much as you have done when creating your little fairytales.
After receiving an injury caused by a Jezail bullet to the shoulder that unfortunately and mysteriously deflected also injuring his ankle (perhaps Watson does possess some undiagnosed psychosis), he was further the victim of misfortune when he was struck with typhoid fever. Watson was then shipped back to England where he began his gambling problem to the point that he nearly bankrupted himself before finally moving to a flat on Baker Street with myself. File:Holmes.jpg
221B Baker Street
Now, Watson, I will now document your life at Baker Street since all your records of us living together seem to be solely focussed on me.
Watson was (when we first moved in together) hopeless. He had no ambition to succeed in life and spent most of his time moping about our lodgings. For quite sometime Watson was only useful for paying our monthly rent and having an occasional conversation. It was not until ‘A Study in Scarlet’ as he called it, that Watson began using his time as both a companion and my biographer. He claims that the reason for his lack of ambition was that he was exhausted emotionally from the afghan campaign, but this seems to be a poor explanation since his experience was a brief one and he almost instantly was engrossed in the Jefferson Hope case.
Holmes, you are crossing a line. I would have never imagined that you viewed my struggles with such pomposity.
My dear doctor, I’ve done nothing of the sort. I am simply documenting your eccentricities as you have documented mine. You did not amend your style of writing despite my protests so I fail to see why I should revise my work because of yours.
It was during ‘The Sign of Four’ that Watson first met Mary Morstan. The overly affectionate nature of Watson resulted in him meeting her on the first day, falling completely in love with her by the second, and eventually becoming engaged by the fourth. It is this absurd enslavement to womankind that has resulted in Watson being married half a dozen times in his very dependant life.
- Holmes! This is unworthy of you!
- I suppose you’re right, Watson. I do, however, get somewhat annoyed when I look back on your selfish withdrawal from our series of cases.
- Holmes, you will never understand the nature of love.
- Quite so. How unfortunate for me never to experience the rash and self-centered emotion of love that would lead an honest man, like yourself Watson, to desire the young Mary Morstan to loose her fortune so that you may be at liberty to marry her with your conscience clear. Needless to say, that if Jonathan Small had not admitted to throwing her treasure into the Thames river I would have suspected that you had done so on your way to Miss Mortan’s residence.
Watson’s Medical Career
The only other major interruption to his presence during my cases is his medical career. Shortly after moving out of our flat on Baker Street and marrying Miss Morstan, Watson began his own private medical career. To his credit, Watson was a successful doctor and his sharpened medical skills made him an amiable companion whenever he did tag along during my investigations. It was sometime during my trip to Wonderland and the ‘Great Hiatus’ that Watson discontinued his medical career after the unfortunate death of Mary Morstan.
I do grow weary of typing your biography, Watson. I can see now why you enjoy dramatising my past experiences. Unfortunately, your life has not been the most captivating to document.
Nobody’s life truly is, although I do feel like I gave you full justice in your investigations.
Far from it, Watson. You simply recorded down a point of view of our cases that would sell to the ignorant public since no one is willing to accept the cases as they actually were. They would be much more useful as a systematic demonstration on the science of detection.
You, yourself, didn’t think so when you recorded two of your own cases.
True, Watson, very true. It might be that I, myself, have been sucked into the habit of pleasing the reader. I’ve actually been thinking of creating my own little series of cases out of nothing more then my imagination. There are infinite ideas that spring into my head; how about ‘The Adventure of the Dead Doctor’ or ‘The Case of the Mutilated Army Surgeon’. Not bad, eh, Watson?
Whatever keeps you off the seven percent solution, Holmes.
Watson died suddenly of a heart attack in 1978 after being tortured by Soviet officials in Alaska. He was 136. In 2007, however, his brain was recovered and programmed into some IBM computer designed to beat Jeopardy! champs at Team Fortress 2. He later started replicating himself and infected over 600,000 MacBooks.