Link to part one


The color rose in his cheeks and he glanced into the fire. "I'm not sure he'll agree with you, once he recalls what happened." He swallowed hard, and added softly, "Although I'm not sure that his memory shall ever return, since that chase after Jonathan Small down to the same reaches of the river has not shaken it free."
( From the Journal of Mary Morstan, continued )

Link to part one



"Amnesia?" And now it was to Holmes my heart went out. To have done so much and have it forgotten, and all those years of comradeship as well! I could scarce imagine such a blow.
( From the Journals of Mary Morstan, continued )

Link to part one



My eyes flew open. Holmes was so pale I thought he might faint, his face so still it might have been carved out of wax and put on display at Madame Tussaud's. He did not protest when I rose and took him by the arm to lead him back to his seat by the table, merely dipped into his pocket for a morocco-leather case to hand to me once he was settled. I took my own place and opened it. Inside lay a hypodermic and two glass phials, stoppered with plugs of india-rubber. The clear liquids in them were half-hidden by yellowing labels, pasted on askew. 'Cocaine', said the one, and the other, 'Morphine.'
( From the Journal of Mary Morstan, continued )

Link to part one

To say that his voice cracked on the words would be untrue, but there was something about it which changed and warned me that he had at last come to the heart of the matter. A flatness to the note, as if he were summoning the words through a long speaking tube which had its opposite end in some place he had no desire again to visit. This time I did not prompt him when he fell silent, knowing somehow that he had already crossed the Rubicon. Eventually he spoke again in the same unnatural tone.

( From the Journal of Mary Morstan, continued )

Link to part one



He fell silent. I waited for a time, to see if he could continue without prompting, but he seemed to me to be trapped within his thoughts, and at last I rose to refill his cup from the cooling pot. "How long were you there?"

"Near a fortnight," he said softly, and then dragged his eyes up to meet mine. "If you would be a doctor's wife," he said harshly, "you must be prepared for the depths to which pain and despair can drive even a proud man." But then his gaze fell again, and his voice was carefully back under control when he added. "I was not."
( Mary Morstan's journal, continued )

Link to part one


"An addict?" I echoed, putting a hand to my throat.
( Mary Morstan's journal, continued )

n.b. I am, for the moment at least, using a slightly modified version of Mr. Frankland's cranky chronology, a copy of which may be found at http://web.archive.org/web/20080126093512/http://members.aol.com/mfrankland/chronology.htm . The additional appearances of the Lauriston Garden mystery in monographs which have been lost to posterity are mine own.

I think she is one of the most charming young ladies I ever met and might have been most useful in such work as we have been doing. She had a decided genius that way... -- from The Sign of Four


That was always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a lighthouse. -- from The Man With the Twisted Lip

***

Excerpts From the Journals of Mary Morstan -- rediscovered by rabidsamfan, with apologies to Dr. Doyle

Saturday: September __, 1887

Well, it seems I am not to be rich after all. The treasure is at the bottom of the Thames, and the mysteries are solved. But things have turned out not so badly, for John returns my regard, and has asked me for my hand in marriage. I told him yes, should we both still feel the same after a week's rest...


Sunday: September ___, 1887

John and his friend came with me to visit Thaddeus Sholto, newly freed from suspicion but still shaken by being forced to attend his twin's funeral in chains, to tell him of the loss of the fortune, and to explain how it came into his father's hands. Mr. Sholto, bless him, believes that my father meant to have the treasure divided with Small and the others, as had been agreed, and lays all blame for the tragedy upon his own father's foolish greed. But he's had a bad shock, and was very glad to have John listen to his heart again and prescribe a convalescent diet and a week's bedrest. There is something quite reassuring about the dear doctor, but I can see that his friend Holmes is concerned for him, for the strain of last night's adventure was clear in the pronounced increase of his limp. I sent them both back to Baker Street in a separate cab, pleading exhaustion on my own behalf, and made John promise that he would get a good night's rest now that the danger is past. I said as much to Mr. Holmes as well, but I note that he was careful not to assent and merely observed that his chances for uninterrupted sleep were far better since the doctor would not be sitting up all night writing up his notes.

Monday: September ___, 1887

I have had a visitor. Sherlock Holmes. He has told me a great deal, and I write it down now, as well as I can remember it, so as to try to think it all through.
( A Study in Sherlock, part one )