I think it is about time that this story was put down, if only for my peace of mind.

It has been many years since the events I speak of took place. Many rumors have spread and many people have made attempts at guessing what are the details of this most secretive of cases. But Holmes and I had my reasons. The world truly was not prepared then.

I refer, of course, to the Great Rat of Sumatra.

The Great Rat of Sumatra, was indeed a rodent, and a….different, is the only way I can put it, one at that, but it is not with it we are concerned. It is with the effect that it produced.

Perhaps I'm not being clear, but if you had been in my place ,dear reader, you would have understood.

As I have said, many years have passed. My body has largely recovered, though I still show faint strains of the change that came over me when Holmes and I pursued the Rat, and am liable to still give Mrs. Hudson slight fits. However, it is dying off and I am glad.

I am dawdling. You will understand now, as I delve into the terrible and grotesque matter of the Great Rat of Sumatra.

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I will not name the year, but the month was October. Winter had begun its steady march and already I could feel the cold settling into my bones and my injured limb. The circumstances were such that the made me rather irritable.

Unsurprisingly, Holmes was in the same state of mind. He never ceased to berate the London criminal's idiocy in not using his advantages at a creeping fog. After hearing this for the seventh continuous evening, my patience, already worn thin by the endless throbbing pain in my leg, snapped.

"Holmes!" I said angrily, and my companion stopped his swift pacing in front of the fire to glare at me. "For God sake's man! I sympathize with your state of mind, but do stop this infernal pacing! The criminals will come in their good time, the whole world does not move according to your wishes! Sit down for a while!"

Harsh words perhaps but one must remember that I had been cooped up with his self for the last seven days listening to the same thing over and over again.

"Watson, I have no need nor wish to sit down for a while!" snapped Holmes. "I am thoroughly frustrated and due to you interfering activities, I do not have the solace of the cocaine either!"

I paled a little. "That was for your own good." I said, my voice shaking with anger "I will not see ou destroy your self simply to please your over active mind!"

"What shall I do then? There is no case!"

"A case will come, Holmes. Be patient."

"Do stop your infernal nagging, Doctor!" Holmes sat up straight, and I felt the knot of anger in my stomach tighten. "You offer no stimulating conversation, nor any subjects of interest, yet you expect me to sit quietly, idly! Everyone is not an invalid like you, Watson!"

The moment he said it, I saw that he regretted it, in his eyes. But I was too angry to care. I rose quietly.

"If I am such a disappointing companion," I said quietly, "Perhaps I should leave your presence." And without waiting for his answer, I left.

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The outer streets were cold and forbidding. Scarcely a soul was around and many a time I stopped and looked around, sure I had heard someone. But it was only the rustle of the leaves.

By the time I had walked up till my former practice in Kenningston, my anger had cooled down, and I felt remorseful. Surely I knew better than to provoke Holmes when he was in one of his moods? Perhaps there is still time now to go back and make apologies. He would be ungracious, I knew, even rude, but it was better than losing my dearest friend, surely? A case would come in a day or two, of that I was sure, and then Holmes would turn to his usual self. Slightly cheered by this thought, I turned to head back to Baker Street, and froze as a slight movement caught my eye.

In the darkness, I could only see my breath misting in front of me, but I was sure somebody had just slipped into that alley to my right.

Well, why shouldn't they? Surely there was no reason to suppose the person had to be a criminal. Any ordinary person could go in there too. Just to be safe, I felt for my gun, and cursed when I could not find it. I had forgotten to bring it.

I started slowly walking back to Baker Street, but even as I did so, there was a slight scurry of footsteps, and I turned my head sharply as a figure burst out of the alleyway. My heart jolted when our eyes met because, even from the distance between the streets, I could see two wolf eyes, brilliant gold, looking back at me.

For a moment I was too started to speak. But the next moment, the figure made a strange sign with his front hand(paw?) and I knew no more.

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When I opened my eyes, I immediately realized, despite my confused state, that it could not have been long since I passed out. It was still dark, and the lamps were glowing dimly. Only my strange acquaintance was no where to be seen.

I felt my head and was relieved to find no blood or bump. So I had not been hit then. There was no sign of injury that I could feel on my person either. How had I fainted?

In my befuddled condition, I turned my feet toward Baker Street. But even as I did so, I saw traces of he sky's lightning which I had not seen before. Proof of how long I really had been unconscious.

"Dear God." I murmured. Mrs. Hudson was not going to be happy. I must have been absent at least six hours.

Half an hour later, I arrived at Baker street. Normally this journey takes less time; today I could hardly walk straight and had to walk with one hand on the wall. It was curious. I could not understand what had happened? Was last night a dream? Had some ruffian hit me? But no, I had no injury. Then what-?

The door opened and I collided with the man coming out. I reached out against the wall to steady myself and inexplicably, found someone steadying me.

"Watson!"

"Holmes?" I murmured, swaying slightly, as he helped me in. His face was blurred, but I could already sense his rather apparent anxiety. "Holmes, you-"

"Thank god, I found you!" He interrupted me. His face, now that I could see it clearly, was drawn with lines of strain and his eyes were wide and concerned. "Dear Lord, Watson, you have no idea how much I have been worried! Two hours or so is normal for you when you storm off like that, but God Watson, a full six hours! Where have you been?"

"I can hardly tell you that, Holmes." I murmured. "All I can tell you is that I have had a most bizarre night."

"Are you hurt?" I felt him check me for injuries.

"No, though I have a really terrible headache." We had entered our sitting room and I sank gratefully onto a chair Holmes had pushed forward.

"Were you attacked?" I felt him rummaging around for the brandy.

"No. At least not in my memory." I gratefully accepted the glass and drank a long gulp. The room came into sharper focus.

"I would prefer that you carried your revolver with you now onwards, Watson." I heard him moving around and knew he was looking for it. "Where is it?"

"In there." I indicated with my drawer with my hand, then froze as there was a loud crack! Holmes spun around and we both stared as the drawer shot open and my revolver came skidding to my feet.

A/N: This is a new genre and I'm not really sure if its applicable in Sherlock Holmes. I'll warn you in advance, this is most likely to be either supernatural or sci-fi or fantasy, three genres that definitely do not fit in with Sherlock Holmes. It sounded like a good challenge and I couldn't resist taking it up.

For those who read my other fics, Colors of Life and Sherlock's Fears will be updated soon. However I want your permission to delete Sister Dear from my list of fics as I have quite lost the 'groove'.

Please Read and Review and tell me how I may improve it!

Thank you!