You've reached Dr. John Watson. I'm not available at the moment but if you'd leave a clear, concise message. I'll get back to you as soon as possible. Message for Sherlock Holmes can be left here as well.

♜Voicemail

♜Text

♜Ring Me

♜Action

Anxious

On the surface, he appears calm, occupying the same chair day after day. The table next to him is littered with paperback books; the floor strewn with newspapers. There's a cup of tea grown cold next to the books and the flat looks inhabited.

It's not. The man that lives within went away around the same time the man that used to live with him died. He rattles around without much animation, drinks tea and eats sandwiches when Mrs. Hudson, not his housekeeper, brings them. He makes small talk with the friends that ring 'round to see how he is. Eventually they stop ringing. Either he is very convincing or bordering on hopeless. He's betting on the former.

When one looks closely at the man sitting in the chair, they'll realise that his hands tremble when he reaches for the tea cup. He breaks the spine on the paperbacks and curls the cover back 'round the spine, smoothing it down with his fingers repeatedly, smearing the words on the right hand pages. He re-reads the same pages, words a blur and plot details lost. His mind is occupied with a sidewalk in front of St. Barts, caught up in 'how' and hope and 'please, just one more miracle'.

The name on the post box claims that John Watson lives there. It is wrong. 221B Baker street has been vacated; only the ghosts remain of one Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.