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The city sheriff was there waiting for me. He was lying on a stretcher, and was being pushed from one place to the next by a young man with a spotty face.
"When did you arrive?" he asked brusquely.
"Right now", I replied, pointing at the bag I was carrying on my back.
The police station was full of clouds that were gathering softly on the ceiling.
"All right. I need you to start work right away, there's no time to lose. We've had a lot of delays. People are beginning to get nervous."
The sheriff looked at me from the stretcher, waving his arms around, while the young fellow deftly pushed it around the room. It took me a while to discover that there was nothing wrong with the man: one day, he had simply decided he would spend all his time lying down. And since, obviously, he needed to keep on working, he'd found a stretcher with well-greased wheels and a helper who'd push it for a pittance. People had got used to it, and he'd lost count of the years he'd spent like that.
"Very well... what should I do?" I asked, anxiously. I was itching to get to do something.
"Start by analysing all those clouds. Once you're done, I want you to prepare a report with your conclusions. Next week you'll meet Sherlock, the detective you've been assigned to. He'll be your boss."
And this is how I landed in Happyland. At the time I couldn't remember how I'd got to that peculiar place. All I could recall was that I had run away from a country whose name I'd rather not remember, which had sunk into a hell of a crisis and where finding a decent way of making a living had become just about impossible.
It would take me months to bring my mind back to how on earth I had ended up in Happyland, which was something I think would've been of great use to me in solving the enormous mystery I had just been assigned to. Or at least that's what I now think. Back then, I was far from imagining the scale of the unmatched adventure I was about to get into.
And, finally, there was Sherlock, who was going to be my boss. Before my very eyes, scrutinizing me, was that peculiar man, wearing his trench coat and his deerstalker hat, despite the stifling heat.
"You look like you haven't eaten anything in about a century, young fellow... Have you been assigned a home yet?"
"Not really, I'm staying at the police station and, to be honest, I haven't been eating much."
"We can sort that out right away. I have a nice house in the suburbs that could become your home, what do you think?"
"Great!" I exclaimed, eager for some privacy and independence. And, of course, I was also eager to stop sleeping on the hard bunk of the cell with two inmates that looked like they'd come out of a road movie about tough bikers. Nobody, not even themselves, could remember why they were in that cell anymore.
"My name is Sherlock, but you can call me..."
"Holmes?" I asked without thinking.
"No! What's that - Holmes? Now that we are work mates and have become somewhat closer, and on top of that, I'm now your new landlord, you may call me... Sherlock!"
"Ah...well... great."
"I can see the excitement colouring your healthy cheeks. So, what's your name, young man?"
For a few minutes, I couldn't speak, and had to think hard about the question.
"I can't remember," I answered, somewhat surprised.
"Oh, I see, that's all right. While you try and remember your name, I'll call you Doctor..."
"Watson?"
"Watson? What's that? Have just remembered your real name?"
"No, I thought you meant you were going to call me Doctor Watson."
"No way. You'll be Doctor... just Doctor. Until your lethargic memory wakes up, of course."
I thought it was best to just leave it at that, since I was beginning to wonder which one of us was the craziest. Meanwhile, Sherlock had grabbed the report I had written on the clouds that the detectives collected all over the city and which had been the cause of the mysterious case we'd been assigned.
"Well, well... very interesting. Steam and, occasionally, ice crystals, which form together taking different shapes: cumulus, stratus, nimbus, cirrus... You've worked very hard, Doctor."
"Well, yes. After six days among the clouds, I really..."
"Good job. I think you are probably the best new employee the Happyland Police Department has had in the last fifteen years.
Later, I was to discover that during the last fifteen years, there had been no new employees, but at the time the comment filled me with pride and satisfaction.
"Thank you, Sherlock. But I've kept the best part to tell you about personally. I didn't want to write it down in an official report."
The detective got really close to me, while he nearly stuck his right ear, covered by one of the hat's flaps, on to my lips.
"I'm listening, Doctor..."
"Well, the thing is... when you spend some time among those clouds, and I've spent quite a few hours in a room with loads of them, you end up seeing images. I thought I could see people reflected in those clouds, people I found strangely familiar."
"Interesting. Very interesting. Young fellow, you've done the right thing keeping that information just between the two of us."
"Thank you!" I replied, pleased at the praise.
"It might even be the key to solving this mystery... But it could also mean that somebody, inadvertently, mixed some powdered opium in the clouds, and therefore those visions are nothing more than a tremendous hallucination caused by the constant inhalation of enormous amounts of mind bending narcotics."
A house in the suburbs
––––––––
Sherlock took me to his house in the suburbs, which happened to be a rather nice place, although I wasn't mad about the pastel-coloured façade.
"So, Doctor, how do you like your new home?"
"I love it. Thank you so much, Sherlock."
"Come on, don't hang about out here - go in. Make yourself at home."
"Well, mmm..." I mumbled, thinking that he hadn't given me the keys yet.
"Come on, speak! You need to smarten up, if you want to make something of yourself in this city," the detective bellowed with his deep, resonating voice.
"The keys! I don't have the keys to the house."
Sherlock gave me an enigmatic smile followed by a loud guffaw.
"Keys? Houses are always open around here. The only keys are at the police station, to lock the cells, and they often forget to do that..."
I thanked the detective again and left. He'd come to pick me up the next day, first thing in the morning, to continue the investigation.
As soon as I stepped into the house I felt really comfortable. I had the feeling I'd spent half my life within those walls, and yet the furniture, the pictures on the walls and the rest of the ornaments were totally alien to me.
I left my bag in the first room I found on the first floor, and decided to go and find something to eat, because I was hungry again. Imagine my surprise when I realised, once in the kitchen, that inside the fridge and the various cupboards there was only... clouds! That certainly wasn't funny at all.
After spending about an hour thinking and not knowing what to do to fill my belly, I had a crazy idea, which I immediately put into practice. I opened the fridge and put my hand into it, wishing that behind the steam there were countless delicious things to eat which would satisfy my aching stomach. Unfortunately, all I could get was a handful of very cold air. But then I remembered the cool, fantastic coleslaw my mum used to make. Nobody made it like her. I stuck my hand in again, without much hope... and then I realised I could grab a plate! I took it out: it was full of freshly-made coleslaw. I demolished it right there and then on the kitchen table in less than a minute. It was unbelievable... that salad was as incredible as my mum's! I tried again, thinking of my favourite beer. It worked! Then I tried the cupboards, and thus managed to get a number of my favourite foodstuffs. Now on the table there were several jars of jam, cinnamon rolls, goat's milk, apple pie, boxes of coloured cereal, my favourite brand of baked beans... I ate until I was nearly bursting, and I left the rest on the table, thinking that I'd have it all in the morning.
I was feeling a bit heavy, so I decided that the best thing I could do was to go for a walk and see the neighbourhood in which I was going to live for the time being.
As soon as I set my foot on the street, the most wonderful girl in the world was passing by my door. She was wearing a light cotton dress and she had the most beautiful, very dark shoulder-length mane of hair.
"Good afternoon!" I shouted. The girl looked at me, surprised. I was instantly besotted by her large, dark eyes. But... her face looked familiar...
"Good afternoon. Are you a relative of Sherlock's?"
"No, no. I'm new in the city. I work at the police station, and Sherlock has lent me this house while I found my own.
"That's great. My name's Helen. I can show you the area if you want. It's very nice. What's your name?"
I thought for a few seconds. How could I tell her that I couldn't remember my own name... I had to use the solution Sherlock had found, as a quick fix.
"Doctor..."
"Doctor?" she repeated, smiling. "That's one original, funny name. Well, are you coming with me?"
And I nodded. And I let myself be carried away by those fairy-tale streets, floating beside Helen and her cotton dress.
I woke up early the next morning. I was very surprised when I discovered that, on the kitchen table, there were none of the treasures I'd left the previous evening. Who on earth could have taken them? Thankfully, when I stuck my hand in the fridge and cupboards, it always came out holding the tasty morsel I had wished for.
Since Sherlock had not set any particular time to pick me up, I decided to wait for him sitting on the steps that led to the house. I was still there when a high spirited, little man came over, with bright eyes and a kind smile on his face.
"Morning, neighbour. I'm Arthur Pink. I've spent my whole life in Happyland, and you may count on me for anything you might need."
"Thank you. My name is Doctor," I replied, once again feeling ridiculous for that singular soubriquet.
But then Sherlock arrived in his car, gesturing and shouting.
"Come on, young fellow, we have a hard day ahead of us!" There have been some new events that we need to clarify immediately.
I quickly said goodbye to Arthur, my neighbour, and I got into the car. While we drove to our destination, Sherlock told me that a very old woman had disappeared from the town, and that was entirely unheard of.
We arrived at a group of houses that formed a semi-circle around a lovely park. Many of the neighbours were surrounding a policeman, who was trying in vain to calm them down.
Sherlock quickly got out of the car and walked towards the policeman.
"Good morning Buster, what exactly has happened here?"
"Nobody knows for sure. Everyone is very confused. Mrs. McGinty has disappeared. The clouds invaded the area last night and hardly anything could be seen. That lady there," said Buster, pointing at a tiny old woman who was jumping up and down, "is the last person who saw her, around 7pm."
"Good job, Buster."
Sherlock went towards the old woman, pushing his way through the crowd of bewildered neighbours. The woman kept jumping, which somehow made up for her small size, and shrieked with a voice that pierced the eardrums of everyone present.
"The clouds... they're killer clouds! They've eaten up my poor Pat!"
"Please, madam, take it easy. I'm the detective assigned to the case. Let's not jump to conclusions, will we? Please, tell me what happened," said Sherlock who, to my surprise, was keeping the situation under control.
"Last night, Pat said she was going for a walk. I told her not to! The clouds had taken over the whole area! They were all over the place, one on top of another, down to the floor. Poor Pat!"
"Go on, please."
"She didn't heed me. She said she needed to stretch her legs. And she also said... goodbye!" exclaimed the old lady, stretching every sound with her tinny voice.
"So?" asked Sherlock, showing some perplexity for the first time.
"She never said goodbye! And then she got lost in the mist... forever! This morning I went to her flat to meet her, because we usually have breakfast together, but she wasn't there! But I found this on her table. It's her handwriting!"
Sherlock took a small piece of paper from the old lady and read it. Then he thought about it for a few seconds.
"Doctor, please keep this, it's a clue," he said, giving me the note.
It was then that the old lady first saw me. She stared at me as if she'd seen a horrendous ghost, and I instinctively took a few steps back.
"Who's that?" she asked fiercely.
"This is Doctor, my new helper," replied Sherlock, with matching firmness.
"New? There have been no new people in Happyland for years, can't you see?" shrieked the woman, forcing everyone to cover their ears to prevent their eardrums from exploding.
"Well... that's true. But I don't understand..."
"It's his fault that Pat is not here with us! He has brought those damn clouds that will eat us all up!" she shouted, looking around herself, trying to stir up the mass of neighbours.
Sherlock, who saw right away what could happen, told Buster to try and calm the crowd down, while he grabbed me by the neck and dragged me to the car as fast as he could. He started the car and we drove away at top speed, still hearing the deranged voice of the old woman, which gradually died away while she shouted: "It's him, we must do something!"
Sherlock said I could have the rest of the day off, but that I should devote it to seriously analysing the masses of clouds gathering around the city, especially in the suburbs. With one caveat: he warned me not to set foot in the neighbourhood where Mrs. McGinty had lived and gone missing, because her old friend was still hot on my tail and determined to end my days in the city in any way she could.
After devouring a fantastic breakfast, once again provided by those clouds that had somehow collected in my kitchen, I went out. And, once again, I run into the little man with the sparkly eyes, who called out:
"Morning, neighbour. I'm Arthur Pink. I've spent my whole life in Happyland, and you may count on me for anything you might need."
"Pleased to meet you. We met yesterday, don't you remember me?
"Not at all, young man. This is the first time I've set eyes on you. And I have a prodigious memory!"
Suddenly, Helen appeared, illuminating the street with her presence, and I thought I could not waste a second more with that little man, so I ran to her.
"Hi, Helen!" I exclaimed, as if I'd known her all my life.
"Doctor? How's your investigation?" she asked, with a smile that filled the sidewalk with flowers. Or so I thought at the time.
"Well, we're trying to find new leads to help us understand what is happening..." I mumbled, unsure of the facts.
"Where's Sherlock?"
"He's given me the day off, and I thought I could go for a walk, to see if I can find out anything of interest."
"Would you like me to come along?"
The question took me by surprise and probably left me looking rather daft, with my lower jaw fallen to the ground and a stupid expression on my face.
"That'd be great."
"Let's go then, we can take my car."
We spent several hours driving around the city. The clouds gathered more in some areas, and in the suburbs, which increased our suspicions. Helen seemed genuinely interested in the investigation, while I could hardly think straight for the thrill of having her by my side, and my heart seemed to jump about like mad in my chest.
"Have you noticed? The clouds are denser over there," she said, pointing at a road that got lost in the thick mist.
"Should we get closer?"
Helen parked the car at the end of that mysterious road, which led to a dilapidated wooden fence. We got out of the car and followed the road. We could hardly see ten feet ahead of us.
"This is sensational, Helen, the clouds must be coming from this point."
"Maybe... I've never seen it like this..."
While we were discussing our finding, a woman, who seemed to be sleepwalking, passed before us, negotiated the fence and got lost in the mist.
"Sharon!" exclaimed Helen.
"Do you know her?"
"Yes, she was my teacher. We must go and help her, come on, let's hop to it, quick!" she said, getting over the fence.
I followed Helen, who seemed very nervous and moved cautiously among the clouds, while calling the name of her old teacher.
"Calm down, you're very nervous. She'll come back, don't worry" I mumbled, puzzled.
"You don't understand, Doctor. That fence was put there to prevent people from falling off the cliff.
"What cliff?"
"An enormous cliff that's just there!"
"Well, then, maybe it's better that we don't go too far from the fence," I pointed out, somewhat frightened.
We looked for Sharon for about an hour, but in the end we decided that it was better to go back home, since it was getting late and Sharon had probably returned by a different path.
And Helen, despite still being a bit worried, gave me a kiss on the cheek before I got out of the car to go home.
"See you tomorrow, Doctor."
I spent the rest of the night touching that side of my face, where her lips had lightly touched it, because her warmth was still there and I didn't want to let it go for anything in the world.
The next day I woke up feeling giddy. I had hardly slept at all and I was exhausted. But the reason for my sleeplessness had been, without a doubt, worth it.
I took a quick shower and got dressed, then I went out without breakfast because I was late for my meeting with Sherlock at the police station. As soon as I set foot on the street a voice, that was by now very familiar, startled me:
"Morning, neighbour. I'm Arthur Pink. I've spent my whole life in Happyland, and you may count on me for anything you might need."
"Thank you," I replied, without bothering to explain that we'd met before, three times!
When I got to the police station, for some reason the sheriff was very busy, frantically going around on his stretcher, shouting instructions to everyone around him. I was no exception.
"You're late! Sherlock has been waiting for you in his office for the last... two minutes!" he exclaimed and, before I could answer, he told his stretcher-bearer to take him to another part of the police station.
When I finally reached Sherlock's office, I saw he was leafing through some reports with a serious expression on his face, as if they contained some sort of riddle within them that he needed to figure out.
"Has anything happened?" I asked, without hesitation.
"Doctor! Great, you're here now... Yes, um, there's another missing person..."
"Sharon? The teacher?"
"Indeed, how did you know?"
"Yesterday, I was with Helen near the cliff, because the mist was denser there, and she walked past us," I replied, thinking about how sad Helen was going to be when she heard the news.
"Where was she going to?"
"Towards the cliff..."
"Interesting. This opens up a world of possibilities. Have you brought the note I gave you?"
"The one Pat left?"
"Certainly!" exclaimed the detective.
"Yes," I said, searching my pockets, and eventually discovering - with great relief - that the folded piece of paper was still there.
"Have you read it?"
"No"
"Read it aloud, please."
I unfolded the paper and did as I'd been told.
"‘I'm leaving forever. I've discovered the secret that Happyland hides and now it's time to go away. Love you all. Pat’".
"So... what do you make of this?"
I thought for a while. I immediately remembered my experience, after spending hours analysing the mysterious clouds.
"Familiar faces," I mumbled.
"What did you say?"
"Do you remember that I told you that after spending some time among the clouds, I ended up seeing faces that looked somewhat familiar in them..."
"Yes, I remember that pretty well. They probably have a hallucinogenic effect.
"No, no. Maybe Pat, and now Sharon, knew what they were doing. Maybe they were aware that going into the clouds, towards the cliff, was the right thing to do," I reasoned, intuitively.
"Suicide!" Sherlock exclaimed, throwing in the air all the reports that had been on his desk.
"I'm not saying that. I was just suggesting..."
"Suicide!"
"No, no, please."
"Young fellow, this is Happyland! This is where joyous people live... and it's been that way for... for... a very long time!"
"It's just a hypothesis. "I thought that, maybe, they were confused by those images and they..."
"You thought, you thought, you thought!"
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? Don't be. I think you could be on to something! Suicide! Only someone who'd just arrived here could have discerned so clearly, so objectively, without all those other things that after years of being here blur your mind. Tomorrow you'll go back to the cliff to find out what's going on there!"
I didn't want to go on my own, so I arranged to meet Helen to visit the cliff again. She had become very sad the previous afternoon, when she learned that Sharon had, as we'd imagined, mysteriously disappeared. But fortunately, that morning she was in a better mood.
"She seemed to be voluntarily going to submerge herself in those clouds," she whispered, while driving her car.
"So it looked like..."
"I don't understand it!"
I hesitated for a few seconds, but then I decided to tell her what I knew about Pat's disappearance; I thought that would ease her desperation.
"We found a note from another person that has vanished, a certain Pat. In that note she, more or less, said that we shouldn't fret about her, that she'd understood the secret Happyland hides and that now it was her time to depart forever."
"The secret Happyland hides?" asked Helen, perplexed.
"Yes, it's all very mysterious."
"It makes no sense."
"I know..."
We parked the car near the fence, which was again entirely covered by a dense layer of mist. I now looked at that whitish mass with slight apprehension, I knew that somewhere beyond it there was a high cliff.
"The solution to this confusion must be here," said Helen, going over the fence with nerves of steel.
"That's what Sherlock and I thought, but we must be careful."
"Are you scared?"
"Just a little bit..."
Helen took my hand and pulled me, following an imaginary path that run parallel to the wooden fence. My heart was again jumping like mad at the warm touch of her skin against mine. But at the time, fear was stronger than the budding love growing inside me.
"Don't be such a wuss. Follow me."
"Where are we going?"
"The clouds get denser the further we go, haven't you noticed?"
"You're right!" I exclaimed, not sure whether that was good or bad news.
We had only walked a few hundred yards, with increasing caution, when we literally run into a little man who, like us, was on the dangerous side of the fence.
"George? Is that you?" asked Helen, surprised.
"Helen? Yes, it's me. I can hardly see you, but I recognised your voice. What are you doing here?"
"That's what I was going to ask you."
"Well..."
"We're investigating. I'm helping Doctor here, have you met him?"
"No, I've never met him, or at least, I don't think so, I can't see very well with this mist."
"Doctor is new in the city. He's helping Sherlock, the detective."
"Oh I see."
"Who is he?" I asked, trying to make something out of the conversation, and also trying not to be left out of it.
"George, the artist. A genius."
"Thank you"
"An artist. I love paintings," I lied, just making conversation.
"Great, some day we can go and see your picture," Helen proposed, enthusiastically.
"Your picture?" I asked, rather puzzled.
"Yes, what's wrong?"
"I don't know, I thought you were an artist..."
"So am I."
"But are you new to art?"
"No... I've been into it for... I don't even know, decades!"
"And in all this time, you've only painted one picture?"
"Obviously!" guffawed the artist.
"He's really good," Helen added, scolding me.
"Yeah, well, I see..."
"By the way, George, you haven't told me what you are doing here yet."
"I, well, I was just out for a walk," said the painter, coyly.
"A walk? It's very dangerous. We're not far from the cliff."
"Well, yes, see you!"
And the George guy just walked away, in the direction of the abyss that we thought was only a few metres from where we stood.
"George!" shouted Helen at the top of her voice.
"Careful!" said I, holding Helen's arm, in case she was thinking of following him.
Helen crumbled onto the floor and started to cry. I had no idea what to do, so I simply took out a handkerchief and gave it her so she could wipe the tears that run freely down her beautiful face.
"What's all this, Doctor, what's going on?"
"I haven't a clue," I replied, somewhat embarrassed.
"We must find out what's behind those clouds," she stammered.
"Yes, but not without due caution. Besides, you'll excuse me, but George seemed to know what he was doing. And he seemed happy enough."
My words, apparently, hit the right spot and Helen stopped crying.
"That is true. I got the same impression."
Suddenly, the mist became much denser. I held Helen's hand, and she squeezed mine. She finally looked as scared as me.
"Doctor, I can't see you."
"Neither can I. Don't worry, we'll wait until these clouds are blown away."
And then, an image formed before my eyes. The image was quite blurred, but nevertheless I could identify the two people in it: it was Helen and I! We were laughing while cooking something together, in a place that was strangely familiar. The scene lasted just a few seconds, and before it vanished forever, I could see Helen and I in each other's arms. Then the clouds began to disperse.
"Doctor?"
"Yes?" I replied, still deeply affected.
"Did... did you see anything in the mists?" she asked cautiously.
"Yes, yes I did see something. I thought you didn't. I saw us both, together, in a place that looked familiar. It was weird."
"I saw exactly the same thing."
Helen's large eyes were sparkling. The tears had left them shiny, as if lit from within, and she was looking at me with a tenderness that made me shake like a leaf.
"I do think Happyland hides a secret," I said clumsily.
"Me too. I do now. Doctor..."
"Yes?" I asked, suspecting she was going to ask a difficult question.
"Who are you?" How did you get to Happyland?"
I hung my head, overwhelmed by those questions I had also asked myself on occasions.
"I know, Helen." I've no idea. Please, believe me, however mad it may seem. I do not remember anything at all."
"I believe you," Helen said, caressing my face. Her fingertips gave me a sort of tingle on my skin.
"I'm sorry!" I exclaimed when I saw that she'd felt the same static shock.
"Doctor... I think we've met before. I don't know when or where, but we have definitely met before."
I spent the night confused, in a muddled dream. In my dream, EVERYONE, every Happyland inhabitant, was familiar, as if I'd met them all long ago. I woke up drenched in sweat and with the strange sensation that I was grazing the surface of the truth, an all too elusive truth.
When I went out, I was astonished to discover that, apart from one area of the city, the rest of the sky was completely clear.
"Morning, neighbour. I'm Arthur Pink. I've spent my whole life in Happyland, and you may count on me for anything you might need."
The high-pitched voice of my tiny friend, who tirelessly repeated this, over and over, gave me a considerable fright. When I looked at him, incredibly, I could recognise him. It was extraordinary.
"Yes, you are Arthur Pink, my neighbour when I live in Plantain Avenue."
The tiny man stared at me, gaping. After a few seconds' hesitation, he made a small sound, like a high note on a piano.
"Henry?"
Henry... I heard that name and a thousand colourful lights exploded inside my head. Henry. Henry. Henry.
"Yes, Arthur, I'm Henry! How did you know?"
"I don't know. That name suddenly appeared in my head..."
I walked up to my present neighbour, who had been my neighbour in the past, and I hugged him. Before I could stop myself, I gave him a big kiss on his forehead.
"Thanks, Arthur, thank you so much! I am Henry!" I shouted like mad, as I skipped my way to the police station.
Sherlock was waiting for me at the door. He was observing the sky and looked preoccupied.
"Have you noticed?" he asked, as soon as I got to where he was.
"Yes, no clouds! It's incredible!" I declared, sharing his astonishment.
"No, Doctor, I wasn't talking about that, although it is indeed remarkable. There is one cloud in the sky, but it's right above your head!"
I looked up and I realised that I had a little, soft white cloud on my head, the only one in the blue sky. I moved around, but the cloud was following me, as if trying to keep me in its shade, or as if an invisible string kept us together.
"What's going on, Sherlock?" I asked, slightly scared.
"I don't know, Doctor, it's your cloud. You were the last to arrive here and you must have the answers somewhere inside your head."
"Sherlock, the name's not Doctor, it's Henry..."
"Henry..."
Sherlock became thoughtful for a few seconds, then he began to weep. He got closer and gave me a long embrace.
"What's up, Sherlock?"
"Henry, don't you remember me? Don't you know who I am?"
I stared at the detective for a long time. Little by little, his face became more and more familiar, and all of a sudden, I felt a strange sharp pain in the depths of my stomach.
"Grandpa?"
"Yes, Henry! Yes! Holy Mother, how did we not realise this before?! I hadn't seen you for so long, and you've grown... Surely that's why I couldn't recognise you straight away when you arrived in Happyland. I'm so happy!"
I hugged my grandfather with all my strength. My cheeks were wet with happy tears. But one thing was really strange in all this story: my grandfather had died of a heart attack five years earlier.
There, in a pile, I had all the files I had been given, with all the information Buster had been able to find. It was going to take me hours, but I considered that the job at hand was important. Sherlock had ordered that I should get any and all the information I might request.
I went through the files on the citizens, each and every one I had met since I'd arrived in the city: my neighbour, the policemen, some other people, the sheriff, Sherlock and, most especially, Helen.
In a flash, all the memories crowded my brain, and all these previously strangers now became friends, family members and... my wife.
Every single one of them had died. Helen had been taken away by cancer two years after our wedding, and I had been left devastated at the loss of the only woman I had ever loved. How come they'd all ended up here in Happyland?
As I went on checking the files, my memory slowly came back. I could now see myself in a car, noticing how one wheel burst and I lost control, falling down a deep cliff. And that was it, I couldn't remember anything else.
There was Happyland's secret. In reality, it was a city of my own creation. Formed by my imagination, designed by a part of my brain that had been, somehow, playing games with me. But I still had unanswered questions: Was I mad? Had I fallen asleep and my dream was already too long? Was I really dead?
I thought there was only one way to discover the truth, and I decided to follow it. Being the coward I was, I wished I didn't have to do it alone.
Once again, the clouds covered the streets of Happyland that morning. It was very early when my alarm went off. I tiptoed out of my house so no one could see me, and I went to find Helen.
She took a while to open the door, since she surely had been asleep when I knocked on her door.
"Doctor? What are you doing here, so early?"
"Helen, I've come to take you with me. I'm leaving Happyland. I think I've discovered the secret.
"The secret?"
she asked, smiling.
"Yes. Yesterday was an incredible day."
"I know! I tried to find you, but you weren't home. The sky was clear!"
"I know. It was my fault."
"Your fault?"
Helen, still looking sleepy, put her head out the door and looked outside.
"Yes, it's me. It was all my fault."
"It's very cloudy today."
"Yes... It's because I'm going away, and for that reason the clouds must be very thick on the cliff."
"Why are you going away?"
"Because I must find out whether this is all a dream, or whether I am right. If it's a dream, I'll wake up. If not, I'll just go somewhere else, like Sharon, George or Pat did."
"But - Doctor, I don't want you to go away..."
"Helen... My name isn't Doctor, my name's Henry."
And Helen gaped at me. I could see that she, too, had understood, and we fell into each other's arms, in an embrace so tight we nearly became one.
"Henry! And now, what? What have you planned to do?"
"I'm going to the cliff. I'll jump the fence and just walk into the clouds."
"I... Henry, I want to come along..."
"That's why I came here. I wanted to ask you if you would come with me."
"You fool, how could you think I wouldn't come! I'm not going to let you go ever again."
Together, we wrote a farewell note, addressed to Sherlock, who would certainly understand our decision. Then we got into Helen's car and drove to the fence, parking right beside it. Nervous but excited, we got out of the car.
"Are you sure you want to come with me?"
"As sure as I'll ever be, Henry," she replied, with a wide smile.
I took Helen's hand and, for the last time, looked into her beautiful, dark, brown eyes. She gave me a smile so bright that not even the thick mist could blur it. Together we walked away from the fence and into the soft clouds, feeling that we wouldn't fall over any cliff. And that's what happened. In fact, we went from Happyland to another Happyland where we were incredibly, blissfully happy. But that, my dear reader, is another story...
Now you know that you mustn't be afraid, and that when you wake from your long sleep, however lost you may be, you'll be in Happyland. I hope you enjoy it then as much as I am enjoying it.
Happy existence.