June 27, 1897
It has been nearly twelve years since Colonel Roger P. Young's unfortunate incident concerning the half blind gardener, and yet the events of those frenzied spring days are clearly stamped upon my memory. Not only were they a welcome diversion in an otherwise uneventful stay at my Aunt Margaret's estate, but they also allowed me the opportunity to meet the now illustrious Sherlock Holmes, with whom the world is so well acquainted.
In the mid-eighties, however, he was not quite so well known, especially in such an isolated place as Little Dinha. Indeed, it was fortuitous that Mr. Holmes was in the vicinity when this incident took place and an even luckier chance that the vicar's nephew knew something of him, or else I fear the colonel's problem would never have been resolved.
The matter was, in Mr. Holmes's words, "a mere trifle", and yet I venture to say, with all due respect, that Scotland Yard would not have thought so. Privately, too, I believe he only thought it to be no trouble at all in hindsight, for he certainly was perplexed during the case itself, if memory serves correctly.
His companion and biographer, Dr. John Watson, evidently agreed with him and never published this account. However, I feel compelled to at least jot it down, if not on the behalf of the village, where the tale is retold and embellished nearly everyday at the local pub, then perhaps as a sort of obscure and belated thanks to the man who, though egotistical and conceited in the extreme, nevertheless was the one to influence me the most, though whether for better or for worse is a matter of some debate.
A/N- The rest of this story is barely written, but I wanted to know if the style was alright and not too dense before I continued. Let me know what you honestly think. Thanks!