A Few Pictures...

I was going through my phone and I found a few pictures I'd taken during some of our cases.

It might seem a bit odd but I've hardly any pictures of him. I remember him once saying how everybody was so busy photographing their lives for Facebook and Twitter that they were forgetting how to live. 'I'm far too busy to be instagramming, John!' He was annoyed at the time because Mrs Hudson was going through this phase of taking photos of her breakfast. Buying her a laptop for Christmas was probably the biggest mistake of our lives. That was the Christmas he managed to offend most of our guests, I got dumped and he met The Woman.

Best Christmas I've ever had, actually.

So, yeah, here are a few pictures.

This one is from when we were investigating a smuggling ring . It feels like so long ago.

It looks like some graffiti but it was actually a secret code. It was all secret codes back in those days. It was around then that Sherlock was getting these anonymous messages . Of course, we know now who they were from.

Not long after, Sherlock did his own bit of graffiti.

This was on the wall of our living room. Mrs Hudson was not amused. But she didn't have time to worry about it too much as a few minutes later a bomb exploded across the road.

And that was the beginning of what we ended up calling ' The Great Game '

This guy was Kenny Prince. He was the brother of Connie Prince (See Connie Prince's website for those of you who can't remember her). Sherlock took loads of pics of him while posing as my photographer. He had the ugliest cat I've ever seen.

And from cats to dogs... Do you see what I did there?

This was Henry Knight's house. He'd come to see us because his Dad had been killed by a giant devil dog. Which sounds mad but the truth was even madder. That was in Hounds of Baskerville . Nice house though!

The following pictures are from our last case. Which I never typed up. I don't want to type it up. I probably never will. Because that's too final.

But you know what happened? Sherlock saved the lives of two kids. Regardless of anything else, he did that. And they didn't even like him very much. If you really think that he was guilty or that Moriarty wasn't real then feel free to explain this .

But this is meant to be a positive thing. I'm not dwelling on the bad stuff. I'm remembering the good times.

Such as how much he loved this hat...

He adored that hat so much.

And, of course, Cluedo.

He liked playing Cluedo. So did I. Before I played it with him. He actually deduced that the victim had done it.

He deduced that the victim had faked his own death.

I said at the time that it wasn't very likely. In fact, I think I said it was impossible. And he told me that it might be improbable but nothing's impossible.

I wish I still believed that.