Stuff and nonsense of course. Blasted stupid book encouraging murder the author should be incarcerated at the very least. Who is he now! Hmm some Spanish chap probably long since died. Holmes had said that the book was written by the devil himself with a face so serious that I almost believed him. It's pouring down with rain and the wind is howling upon the Windows but I know that silent request for assistance is going unanswered. Although he's not here physically Holmes presence can be felt in these rooms such is the spirit of the man. Makes me feel quite guilty to feel comfortable here despite the cosy homely atmosphere . Catching site suddenly of my reflection on the window pane I noticed that I appeared quite ashen faced and my hair much more grey than before. The street below was glittering in the twilight, everything looked so clean and vivid that I threw up the window sash and took in some fresh air . There was people rushing about trying to get out of the rain and there I saw Her Maria. Hurrying along with her umbrella. Such a nice girl we usually have tea together around this time and I'd completely forgotten. Maria wait for me I'll be down in a bit. I called. She waved pointed toward the teashop. I'll meet you there John. She smiled showing perfect white teeth. I really didn't know her very well but was hoping that she would one day be the new Mrs Watson. She told me how she grew up in Chislehurst. Which I thought quite a coincidence. Many men have gone missing over the years . She said. I was worried. There could be many daggers.
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