John Watson is a fascinating creature. Such a simple man with so many intricacies. With one look I can determine his history and his current state of mind, but - and I almost regret to say this - his emotions are a mystery. I can determine nothing of his opinions toward people and, although I know what he has been through, understand not a sliver of the emotional impact of his experiences. To these circumstances, an ordinary person might say, "How could I understand? I wasn't there."
But I am Sherlock Holmes. I have always been able to envision the steps of other humans, easily. No one is a mystery to me. No one but Dr. John Watson.
Many times I have contemplated why I put up with John's presence in my vocational affairs. His medical knowledge proves useful at times, but hardly ever in solving the cases. The inconveniences far outweigh the benefits. It defies all logical reasoning that since the first time John accompanied me through a case, I have not been able to pursue the solution to another without him. This is not a physical condition, but a mental one.
I have experimented with this predicament. I agreed to assist the incompetent Lestrade in finding the culprit of one of his petty crimes, and began my investigation in secret. The first night I spent on the divan in the corner of our flat, curtain drawn, thinking as I normally do. When I saw the morning light shining on the arm opposite my position, I found I had come to no hypothesis whatsoever. Without the simple concept of John Watson being in my confidence, I had been reduced to a simpleton, a figure of meaningless abstraction sitting motionless on the couch for seven hours and accomplishing nothing.
John Watson is in almost every way an obstacle to my efficiency, but absolutely necessary to my productivity. This contradiction is a mystery I have yet to solve. To add another shade of intrigue to this mystery, I have developed an inexplicable inclination to the thought that I will maintain my necessity for John even after I solve it. I am afraid of the thought that I will not. It is the first fear I have ever known. My only comfort is in deducing that since John is not in my confidence regarding his own mystery, I will not be able to solve it. This is not a foolproof deduction. The subconscious has unusual ways of working that may surprise me with a solution at any moment. Therefore, the fear is constant in my mind.
If John Watson knew I was fearful, he would not allow me to withhold the reason. I cannot understand why he cares for me; I only know that he does. It infuriates me not the have the explanation as I always have, the crucial connection between knowledge and purpose that makes sense of anything, the bridge to understanding. Throughout all of my life I have been faced with blatant questions and been able to answer them - even the most complex - within the space of a week. Today I am faced with an obscure multitude of questions, each indistinguishable from the next and entirely uncontrollable, forcing themselves into my thought processes one after another without allowing me a chance to cogitate on one of them no matter what I try. John Watson has created a haze in my mind that can only be cleared by the company of the man himself. That is why he is a necessity to my work and to my survival.
But how did he create the haze, and why does it remain?
I do not want to know the answer, no matter how it exasperates me not to have it. I do not want to solve the mystery known as John Watson. I want the mystery to stay by me for the rest of my life, inextricable, reminding me that I am not all powerful and that there is hope for the human race. That the seemingly simple man I share a flat and a career with is undeniably vital to me; that I am not burdened by, but grateful for his existence.
That the events I pass off as inconveniences are complements of companionship meant to be appreciated, and that the empty spaces where my understanding of John runs short are not deficiencies in my mental processes, but natural perplexities that are impossibly and beautifully designed to make a person extraordinary.