I have started afresh, turned to a new page in my life with this venture of sharing digs. Always I have been a solitary creature. However, a selectly limited society was forced upon me by the necessity to cut expenses. Having determined to live by my wits in a consultation capacity to those with little puzzles to solve, I did not anticipate such a slow financial beginning. Father's estate fund is quickly dwindling in this great metropolis.

Throw myself upon the mercy of Mycroft? No, I am reluctant to ask any favours of my brother. No doubt he would give me yet another lecture upon the secure benefits of government service. My independent nature could never function within the constraints of bureaucracy.

Once convinced I must find a roommate I acquired an almost instant candidate that early January morning last, at Bart's. I liked Doctor John Watson instantly. Unlike myself, he was gregarious, open, forthright and unpretentious. I also recognized immediately, to my discredit, that his poor health would keep him from being too much underfoot.

Within the first few days of our tenantship in the cozy and appropriate rooms on Baker Street, I had little to do (being the world's first consulting detective will take a bit of time to catch on with the paying public. So I silently study and draw conclusions (an unrestrainable habit) about my roommate. My observations of Watson were at first a game. Now they have formed into something more important.

In these few weeks I have learned Watson is utterly exhausted and worn down by the rigorous horrors of war. As with many scarred veterans, Watson does not discuss the slaughter in Afghanistan. His wound weakened him tremendously, though he has given over almost no details of the Battle of Maiwand or his part in the bloody drama -- typical of his modest nature. He is depressed and confused because he can no longer earn a living, as he had expected, as a military surgeon. Nor would he want to; military bureaucracy has disillusioned him, apparently. Once well suited for an adventurous and useful career, he is in the dumps because he now feels useless and impoverished with no aspects.

Watson is a person who must feel he is a useful part of society. He is not yet fit enough to return to regular practice, nor does he have the capitol investment to buy into one. He does not sleep well, unfitful periods are interspersed with jumbled nightmares. I can hear his restless tossing sometimes his pacing in his upstairs room. (Originally I had put him up there to distance him from my clients and myself, privacy I jealously guard. Typically, he thought I was being considerate and keeping him away from the fuss and bother of my tramping vagabond visitors.)

In these past months I have become accustomed to his companionship. I enjoy our time together and have prevailed upon him to engage in walks when the weather permits. He greatly enjoys constitutionals, sometimes overtaxing his weak health. Our perambulations, however, are of benefit because Watson's mental and physical health have improved with these excursions. They have become some of my most treasured moments. The walks, the fireside discussions into the night -- of philosophy, history, society, literature. Watson is a vast storehouse of entertaining facts, amusing trivia and astute observations. As no one has before, he draws me into the most convoluted and intriguing debates on the most eclectic subjects imaginable. He has enlightened me upon the theories of such vastly differing topics as his experiences in pathological oddities, to the latest developments in submersibles!

Of late Watson has taken to joining me upon my little cases of detection. His fresh curiosity, enthusiasm and effusive praise for my abilities, add an invigorating angle to these pretty little puzzles, just as a newly polished prism more brilliantly reflects and colours shafts of burning sunlight. He writes detailed journals, records of my cases and shows me in an embarrassingly magnificent aspect, although he tends toward some dramatic licence. I have come to quite like his modest notes of our droll adventures. We have discussed using his accounts to drum up business.

More importantly, more significantly, he has enlightened me upon the enjoyment (perhaps the necessity?) of a companion. I have never known friendship before. Poignantly, I am just beginning to see what I have missed. With eager anticipation, I look forward to discovering the many aspects of friendship yet to unfold.