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one. Whenever there is a crime with… unusual characteristics, I must solve it as rapidly as possible, or expect to be accused of it, in short order.”
    “I see,” I said, “and you assume this to be such a crime?”
    “No,” he shrugged. “Or rather, I don’t know. It’s just that Grogsson and Lestrade are… unusual gentlemen themselves. Despite their positions, the rest of Scotland Yard seems to harbor almost as much suspicion of them as they do of me. Yet, these two are my only friends there. It is of some importance to my continued freedom to ensure that Grogsson and Lestrade remain the most effective inspectors on the entire force. So long as they continue to solve cases the others cannot, they are safe and so am I. So no, Watson, there is no money in this for me and no recognition, only safety. That is why I am going.”
    He settled back into his thoughts for a moment then suddenly sprang up and exclaimed, “Oh! Hey now! Why are
you
going?”
    I was embarrassed to admit I didn’t quite know. I’m sure I must have said something about abandoning a friend or the duty of a doctor to see to a seizure victim. But that was not the truth of it.
    Why was I in that cab?
    I had always considered myself a creature governed by reason; clearly, I had seen enough to know that Holmes was dangerous to me and dangerous to the fundamental foundation of my worldview, as well. Yet that, I suppose, was the very bait that had caught me. I realize that most men will shy away from a thing that contradicts their understanding. I admit I had done it too, ignoring Holmes’s supernatural nature for as long as I could manage. But eventually, awe and wonder overruled my fear. There is nothing so intoxicating to the scientific mind as the weird and unfamiliar.
    The fundamental basis of scientific thought is that an observed truth that undermines one’s understanding is yet the truth. If the observation is not flawed, one’s previous understanding must be. To the open mind, this is not a crisis; it is an opportunity to form a new, more perfect understanding of the world. Did I ever abandon science for a belief in magic, as some people may accuse? Never. Rather, I included magic in my understanding of the physical phenomena that shape our world. Science is a path to knowledge—one that must include and explain every observable fact, embracing all and rejecting none.
    So, there is the professor’s answer. To the reader who cares not a whit for science or the scientist, let me say: curiosity. That’s why I went. I was curious, all right?
    Of course, that day in the cab, I had no ready answer. All I could do was stammer half-truths until I looked out the window and noted, “Lauriston Gardens! We’re practically there, Holmes.”
    Holmes rapped on the ceiling with my walking stick and called, “Driver, stop here.”

4

    I WALKED CALMLY DOWN THE STREET TOWARDS 3 Lauriston Gardens. Holmes did not. On the pretense of investigation, he ducked behind every single hedge we passed. Occasionally, he would break a leaf between his fingers and examine the sap, or rub his finger against a brick in one of the neighbor’s walls and say, “Yes, that’s all very well, but I wonder…” The closer we got to Number 3, the slower his pace became. At last, he eschewed the pavement altogether and slunk from lawn to lawn, hopping over the walls when he thought himself unobserved. I waited patiently in the street. Or rather, let us say, I waited in the street. I deduced that Holmes must have some compunction about actually arriving at 3 Lauriston Gardens, but could not guess what it might be. It remained a mystery, until the constable guarding the front door saw him pop up over the garden wall.
    “Oi! It’s you!” the officer shouted, face reddening. At Holmes’s chest he leveled one finger—it shook, nearly bursting with the strain of containing so much vehemence and accusation.
    Warlock stopped, halfway over the wall, frozen like a deer in a