Come At Once

𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕴

                                                   𝑀𝓇. 𝒮𝒽𝑒𝓇𝓁𝑜𝒸𝓀 𝐻𝑜𝓁𝓂𝑒𝓈

In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as assistant surgeon. Soon thereafter, the war broke out and the rest as is now said, was history.

 I had returned to London a rather changed man after sustaining a bullet to my left leg that shattered the tibia of my left leg like glass. I had been sent home. Though home was nothing as I remembered it and the ache in my leg never ceased to remind me of a security and life that now seemed lost forever. 

Retired from my military service and practically dying of boredom, I had taken up lodging with another medical student and had sustained a small consulting business ( for a modest monetary fee ) aiding the Scotland Yard in cases I was assured would be of a mundane variety. I had not yet received notice of any work in the matter and it seemed that perhaps the police force had forgotten me all together. 

As I sat on a small bench  wallowing over these things in bitter contempt and self pity, I rather neglected to notice the woman who was hurrying towards me at great speeds until it was too late. Like a storm of leaves blown from the ground to the winds her red and brown skirts and overcoats came into the air, jumping over the leg which I had so carefully place outwards before me like a horse over a hurdle in the races. 

I could not help it, in a moment of surprise I gave a yell of anger and supposed pain. 

This effectively stopped the woman who was already several yards away from me, and had I not yelled would had no doubt continued journeying on at great speed. 

She turned on her heels and asked in a demanding but by no means inconsiderate voice, "Have you some pain sir?" 

I sat stupefied a moment, my hand to my leg and my eyes to the brunette before me. 

"Well?" she said again cordially, and it was then she shifted a rather large portfolio of something from under one arm to the other, "How are you? You have been in Afghanistan I perceive." 

"How on earth did you know that?" I asked, in astonishment. 

"Never mind," said she, chuckling to herself. She gave a small nod as if to excuse herself away and left me bewildered. As she walked she mumbled something under her breath along the lines of; 

"The question now is about hemoglobin. The significance is revolutionary-" 

At the time, I did not think much of the encounter for it did not seem much of anything except for its few peculiarities. But I accounted her knowledge of the war and my part in it to some old forgotten acquaintance forgotten on my part and the jumping over my leg in a much unconventional manner to simple run of nerves or greatness of exuberance of spirt in her part. 

I wish now I could back and truly appreciate the significance of the encounter, for it was one which would alter the course of my life. 

But as it often is with things that come to mean most to us, we do not cherish them at the time as we should. 

At around supper, Ms. Hudson informed me Detective Lestrade had called about ten past asking for my presence at a scene on the corner of Fifth and Elm Acre. As always, she supplied me with the utmost care even going so far as to polish my cane a bit before I was rushed out the door. 

As I called for the cab, my cane raised to the air I was struck by the truly entrancing quality the noise of horse shoe again cobblestone made. It was as if sparks flew from beneath their feet. unaware of what scene I was to face on my arrival, I found myself with a a chill running down my spine as my brain recounted that pale rider upon the horse; death.