Bullpop & Brandy

As I sit here in my usual manner the room filled with a dense fog of tobacco smoke that no doubt would be clinging to my frock coat. Which I have been far too lazy to have placed it in the cupboard that is beside the front door to our flat. Not that I believe it would make much difference due to the amount of bullet holes placed into the door and frame by him. My brandy glass filled a little higher than the usual tide line that resides within it and my ink well envious of the amount of liquid its accompanying glass contained.

Even though I have been home for more than an hour my friend who I live with has not moved an inch except only to refill his pipe, the only impressive notion he has made all day by my reckoning is the amount of time he has kept his pipe alight for. There wasn’t even a flinch as I opened the curtains as I entered the room unlike his usual reaction of acting like a spoilt child. If you are reading this you have more than likely read my other accounts, but you surely are wondering why the sudden change in pace and style and the relativity of this will show itself soon.

At first I had no intentions of making anyone aware and suggest to Scotland Yard it would more than likely be an opium induced suicide. The most bold and experienced detectives of Scotland yard would not have accused me his best friend of murder knowing full well what sort of man he was. This is not an impulsive decision I have made over what seems to be a third of a bottle of brandy. There are a string of events that have led me to my very conscious decision, so I am writing my final account to save whatever dignity I have left.

It begins not when we met bit in 1888 during an account I called the sign of four which I should have with more adept hindsight than any human can possess, The sign of four was the start of my companions betrayal. It was during this case that I met my harpy of a wife. Anyone could see that I was completely besotted by her beauty, her character, even the way she held her ladylike qualities with an air of authority most women lacked around men of high regard. You didn’t have to be a man of intellect to see how blindly in love I was. But it was my fault in my blind love that I failed to notice the serpent that formed the third wheel of our trio.

As I write this I can recall slight tells in my partners expressions, it might have just been an acute change from his normal purposeful expression to a minute break in this to smallest of smiles. Or even the faint dilation of his pupils which to be honest I should have deduced this from the glazed state the opium fiends eyes were usually set. It has only been within the last few months they have both let their guards down probably assuming I would not have been becoming aware of their affections. After all these years of trust the crimes solved, murders prevented, rapists halted even masterminds thwarted their affections growing stronger with each villain put under lock and key.

I could only dread what they doing behind my back and closed doors just the thought of them together made my blood boil; I couldn’t handle the betrayal anymore so I confronted Mary yesterday. At first she denied everything I could sense she was lying and she should have known to tell me the truth which she started to do at once, when I withdrew my bull pop pistol. With my pistol now in front of her face her confessions came swift and sharp Mary told me everything from tales of her love affair to the cause of the needle marks that have been appearing on her legs, which she has been trying to hide from me.

As I recall this I can feel my body trembling in anger wanting to complete my vengeance. My free hand resting upon my pistol remembering the feel and hatred of the barrel as it was placed into her mouth as she tried forcing possible nouns, verbs even syllables of mercy. Before I pulled the trigger I could have sworn Mary’s eyes asking for forgiveness with false tears of hope until I started applying pressure to the trigger. The queer thing is all I could think of was how easy it was to take a life of someone you never knew from my days in the service but as I write this they never trained you to kill someone you loved. I sensed that Mary could tell of my hesitation as the pistol left her mouth, she sighed with relief but then the image of her betrayal entered my thoughts then I firmly pushed my weapon the her forehead. I can’t recall the noise of the bullet leaving the chamber just the life of my love leave her face followed by a crimson mist that floated within our bedroom.

I have been sat at this desk for what seems like several hours my brandy bottle nearly empty, pistol reloaded and my ink well… to be honest my ink well seemingly untouched. My soon to be former companion still untouched and unmoved. This could be due to the fact of the amount of laudanum he has laced in with his pipe tobacco. But as a doctor I would imagine his tolerance to opiates to be higher than the normal human beings, I can only hope that he would have been asleep as I remember him saying he could only dream of passing away in his sleep. To my avail he is awake staring into the wall with the usual purposeful face as if he was trying to look through the bricks themselves.

The only difference this time was the heavy atmosphere that hung in the room hugging the pair of us. Even with my companion shrouded in this thick gloom I am more than surprised of my friends lack of alarm, for I am certain he is aware of the actions that are about to befall us both.

As I come to the end of this final account I cannot and will not feel remorse for my actions, for I have not done or by my next actions committed evil. I will not apologise but instead I will drink my final toast to one of the greatest men I have had the privilege to know, goodbye Mr Holmes.

Your forever loyal and greatest companion.

Dr J.H Watson