"Watson what on Earth are you doing man?" I shouted as I stumbled into the parlor. "Turn on some lights my dear fellow."

Seated at my work table, the one to the left of the room, nearest the fireplace, he looked up at me with spectacles dangling from his nose that made his eyes appear easily three times their normal size; magnifying glasses, intended for close-up work. In his hands were test tubes that he clung to tightly and my table…he'd shoved its contents aside and they now sat piled into a nearby crate.

"Doctor I see that you've made yourself comfortable. Do you mind explaining why I should not fly into a rage at the sight of my belongings piled haphazardly into a box whilst your chemistry set now adorns the very spot upon which they once sat?" I asked, raising an eyebrow questioningly as my lips pursed into an angry scowl.

He removed the spectacles and placed them onto the table before jumping to his feet, still trying to keep the test tubes from spilling their contents.

"Holmes you absolutely must see this!"

"Oh?" I asked sarcastically, still glancing at my tossed aside brick-a-brack.

"Never mind the table will you old chap. This is most fascinating."

"Very well." I replied, pausing to remove my coat and placing it onto the back of one of the chairs before walking over to him.

"This." he raised his right hand, "is a sample of blood, my blood to be precise. This," he raised the other hand into view, "is the sample I drew from you after lunch."

"Fascinating." I feigned a smile.

"Come here." he motioned for me to follow him back to the work table which he had so rudely claimed as his own. There, taking a seat upon a stool that he had moved from elsewhere in the drawing room, he placed the two vials down into holders which kept them from spilling over.

"One of our earliest questions was of the nature of your abilities…or lack of them you claim, and how they relate to the world of homo-monstrum." he said, looking up at me. "Well I spent the afternoon, while you were out…."

"Doing research." I assured him.

"Ah I see. While you were out doing your research I pulled out my kit…"

"Commandeered my table without asking permission.” I interjected. “Yes please proceed Doctor." I smiled.

He cleared his throat, "As I was saying Holmes. I pulled out my kit and began to run a battery of tests on your blood sample. From a purely medical standpoint I saw nothing strange about it whatsoever so I then delved into more unconventional experiments."

"May I assume that the results were enlightening?"

"You could say that." he smiled, then turned his attention to the row of bottles arranged in a wooden rack that he'd placed upon the table. From it he pulled an unlabeled tincture and, with the precise hands of a surgeon, placed two drops of the solution into the first vial of blood. Almost immediately it began to luminesce a vibrant green color.

"That would be my blood sample." he said.

"And the other mine."

"Yes." he uttered under his breath as he squeezed two drops into the second vial. It too glowed brightly within a matter of seconds. Vibrant green.

"What is it?" I asked, "This solution."

"It is a mixture of sodium hydroxide and hydrogen peroxide. It causes blood, or any traces of it, to reveal itself with a brilliant glow."

"That I can see Watson, and while it is quite remarkable and I can see much potential for it in the use of investigating murders or other violent crimes I suspect that this is not all that you wished to show me."

I watched as he pulled another vial from the rack, this one shaped like the other two and also containing a dark red fluid like the others as well. Blood. He placed it into the apparatus that already held the two, now glowing, sample vials.

"Watch this." he said, then placed two more drops of the solution he had devised into the third container. This one too lit up with an eerie glow but instead of green the light held more of a blue tint.

I looked at him questioningly.

"You see Holmes, the first two samples are from you and I. This one," he pointed to the blue vial, "is from a patient that I visited on my way back from Mr. Lestrade's office."

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"Why does it luminesce differently? Some illness that your patient is suffering from?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I was only checking in on Mr. Thompson to see if his fractured ankle was healing properly."

I smiled, "A procedure that would normally not require the sampling of blood, am I correct?"

"Typically, no. Not unless there were any signs of infection taking hold."

"And were there?"

"Not at all."

I laughed, "So then you stole some blood from your patient for your little science project?"

The doctor looked miffed, "Stop being facetious Holmes. Do you not see what this indicates?"

"Only what I can observe Watson. Our samples emanate a green light, Mr. Thompson’s a blue one. What it means, however, is beyond my understanding. Though I feel that you are about to enlighten me."

He nodded.

“While I can say nothing for certain without quite a bit more research the fact that both of our blood samples produce a green glow while that of a normal human being typically produces one of blue I can surmise that whatever is at play in our biology that make us different from others is something that we both share.”

“And may I surmise that you have tested this formulation on samples from numerous normal persons, all with the same effect?”

“Correct Holmes. All illuminate with a blue tone without fail, save for those from people that I know to be some form of...monster, if you will.”

“Then...”

He finished my sentence. “Then there is no denying it my friend, you are indeed some variant of monster.”

“Fantastic.” I mused, reaching for my pipe. “A monster who hunts monsters.”

“It’s not without precedent.” Watson reminded me. “And seeing as how you’ve not yet chosen to murder me can I now assume that you’ll be taking a more discretionary stance in the future?”

“Indeed.” I said through the first puff of tobacco. “Still,” I said as I turned to the window, “I’m not like them.”

“Not like me you mean?” the doctor asked.

I spun to face him with a stern brow. “You know precisely what I am referring to my dear Watson. You and I may be gifted with special...attributes, but a monster that does not make.”

Watson stood, looked at me rather worriedly. “I’ve not known you long enough to determine, but you can understand if I say that I truly do hope that your change of heart is not based in selfishness, or worse yet shame.”

“No no.” I assured him. “While I do admit to a certain amount of apprehension at the thought of sharing some common biology with many of the terrible things that I have now spent some years of my life slaying I know full well, as do you, that not all beasts are agents of evil.”

I walked over and put a hand to the doctor’s shoulder, “Know this Watson, it was you who permanently swayed my outlook. Remember that I am a keen judge of character and I do not see in your eyes what I saw in so many others.”

“So how do you proceed Holmes?”

“I believe you to be asking whether or not I continue ridding the world of things that go bump in the night. The answer is yes. Neither your good nature nor the reality of my own being in any way changes the fact that there are good people in this world who deserve to live out their lives unafraid of gruesome deaths by things unimaginable.”

Again I walked over to the window. I looked out through it at the comings and goings of the people below.

“You know it does bring one very interesting question to mind though Watson.” I said softly, nearly to myself.

“And what would that be Holmes?”

“Evil is far from the exclusive domain of paranormal creatures. Darkness resides in the souls of ordinary men. Is it my place to reap vengeance upon them as well?”

It took the doctor some time to respond, as if he was turning the thought over in his head before returning an answer.

“To choose to take a life is a very serious matter. Is it possible that you’ve, until recently, silenced your own conscience by telling yourself that they were ‘simply monsters’?”

“Perhaps.” I mused. “Still, if an ordinary man be a monster, not of flesh and blood but of the mind, should his life not also be judged upon the same criteria?”

“Holmes if you are seeking some form of validation for your choices you shall not receive them from me.”

“Nor do I desire them Doctor.” I said, spinning to face him. I waved a hand at the abundance of instruments upon the table where he’d been working, “You seem to have been busy this afternoon. Have you learned anything else?”

To that he smiled. “Actually I have. Alas it’s not something that will brighten your day I’m afraid.”

I neglected to speak, instead only raised an eyebrow in question.

“You likely thought your blood sample to be free of all traces of morphine.”

My eyes widened.

“I’ll state simply that it was not.”

I looked slightly off to the left, averting my gaze from his.

“Oh don’t worry Holmes, I’m not going to give you the classic physician’s speech on the hazards of opiate addiction.” he took a step forward, spoke in a firmer tone of voice, “I’m going to lecture you on why I think your abilities are not as developed as they should be!”

I was taken aback. Surely a look of consternation was plastered all across my face.

“You are a Versieht...”

“Am I?” I asked.

“Yes, and stop being an arse! It is my firm medical opinion that years of opiate abuse has stunted the development of your natural abilities.”

“Hah,” I scoffed, “natural...”

Watson greeted my cynicism only with a scowl and what I could have sworn, though it was barely audible, to have been a very low growl.

“Put your coat back on Mr. Holmes.” he barked at me as he reached for his own.

I did not argue. I watched as he retrieved a small metal case from the table, placed it into his pocket, then motioned for me to follow him.