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Logical Necessity

The house's door is open. The man sitting inside has enough enemies that active suicide would be redundant.

A young boy takes a still-filled syringe from the man and puts it away.

The man's eyes are closed, but his voice is neither surprised nor hesitant. Why?

Holmes needs a Watson, answers the boy, and prays silently to London for a crime.

The Arrangement

They know, of course. Knowing is what they do. Perhaps it has been their idea all along; perhaps before this thing, this arrangement, they were less able, or more able but less good. It doesn't matter.

All that matters is that when, once or twice a decade, a brilliant, lonely detective calls him or herself Sherlock Holmes, there's always a Watson waiting for them.

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cass, can you not
__marcelo
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