Introduction
During the many years of my long and intimate acquaintance with Sherlock Holmes there were numerous events in our private lives - some significant, some trivial - that were of a highly personal nature and therefore inappropriate for inclusion in my records of his cases.
Be that as it may, of late I have grown increasingly frustrated by the strictures of my so-called public writing, as absorbing and instructive as the cases of my dear friend might be. With Holmes's blessing, I have decided to keep a record of some of the many confidential matters which, though meaningless to others, were of the very deepest moment to us. We are also fully aware of the risks involved for, by the very nature of our relationship, we are committing a criminal offence.
Our meeting at Barts and many of the subsequent events I have documented elsewhere, so I have decided to begin with that momentous day in 1887 when I finally had the courage to tell my dearest friend and fellow lodger what was truly in my heart whenever I saw him suffering, as indeed he was on that fateful afternoon.
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