Arthur Conan Doyle | The Hound of the Baskervilles | 1902

Dear Dr. Watson,

I have been following your work for some time now. Although I enjoy hearing of your exploits with your friend Mr. Holmes, it seems you are relatively silent when it comes to your own tales. Do you have any exciting stories from your time in Afghanistan and the east? It must have been something to see the influence of a tiny island effected half-way around the world. I wonder, was it difficult to live in such an exotic locale? Is there anything you miss about it? You must have had your pick of the most delicious teas of the region. I, myself, am a self-proclaimed theic, though I trust you will agree with me on the restorative powers of the tea leaf.

I can only imagine the difficulty you must have living with Mr. Holmes. Based on your descriptions, he is never satisfied. And I must apologize for my contemporaries who have portrayed you as a bit daft. There is something that makes this generation praise the troubled and belittle the steady. Those of us who are paying attention, and there are many, know that a man who is a doctor, who has served overseas, and who has earned the friendship and trust of an individual as intelligent and manic as Mr. Holmes, must himself be a man of the highest order and given to his own scientific discoveries and bouts of logic equally deserving of acclaim.

I wish you the best in your endeavors,
Meaghan Walsh