I, LIKE DR WATSON, AM FINISHED WITH THIS PROJECT, having turned his manuscript into what I hope is a readable book. Watson was a fine writer, but The Highgate Horrors, in its original form, had all the hallmarks of a man whose powers were failing and whose judgement was starting to become faulty, and given that he was dying and knew it, this is hardly surprising. I have tidied and trimmed, topped and tailed, and it has been a labour of love but a labour nonetheless, and now it is done.
An author is often at the mercy of their life. I have definitely found that, when writing one of my own books, small synchronicities and coincidences crop up that inform the work in progress. It can be a phrase you overhear, which you find incorporates itself neatly into the storyline and gives you a defining line of dialogue for one of your characters. It can be an insight prompted by something mundane like a newspaper headline or a song lyric that turns the plot wonderfully on its head. It can be a stray thought that strikes you out of nowhere – usually at an inconvenient moment, even more usually during the wee small hours – and provides the key to a passage you were struggling with. When it happens, you just have to go with it. They are omens. The universe or your subconscious – take your pick – is nudging you, offering you a helping hand. Pay attention. Accept it.
During the year or so while this particular book was occupying my headspace, I went through several life-altering experiences. A close relative died of cancer. A good friend died of cancer. I myself nearly died of cancer. More broadly, there has been a pandemic, its effects still lingering. A long-reigning queen has passed away and a new king crowned. There is political turmoil both at home and abroad. Migration has become a hot media topic. The ground seems to be shifting beneath everyone’s feet, but I mostly notice it happening beneath mine because, well, they’re mine. I look back over these pages from a century ago and see reflections – too many – of the world immediately around me. Something that came to me by chance is offering omens of its own.
Those omens suggest that it’s time to step away from the Cthulhu Casebooks and more broadly from Sherlock Holmes. It’s time to look elsewhere, try new things, seek new challenges. Nothing is permanent. Life is short. Change is healthy (and health is changeable).
No doubt there are countless more of Dr Watson’s manuscripts waiting to be discovered and published. I will leave that joy to other writers. If they are enthusiastic Holmesians, then the great detective and the good doctor, those eternal steadfast companions, are safe in their hands.
JAMES LOVEGROVE