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John just carried on doing what he did best. He simply healed the sick and worked on his medical studies. His reputation continued to grow as did his self-confidence and he happily left the running of the business to me.

Though initially we made little profit as our expenses had increased so dramatically, once each doctor had a full diary of appointments and payments began flooding in, we started to draw a healthy profit from our enterprise.

I decided that it was time to make peace with Mycroft. I came to accept that he was simply a lonely old intellectual inexperienced at interacting with people outside his professional sphere, not a pitying do-gooder. It was time for him to see what we had achieved, to truly understand why his brother loved me. There was a connection between us. I knew his secrets and he knew mine.

I sent a note to his club saying simply; “Friendship is free; you need only invest your heart, loyalty, and good intentions.”

He was at the surgery the very next day and we sat in my office sharing a brandy and dissecting my plans for the business.

He began joining us for supper sometimes and I even managed to coax him into the occasional gentle walk with Sandy. Slowly we would progress along the pavement, me and my two overweight breathless companions. Mycroft was able to finally experience friendship. Over time he became a missing element in my life, one which I never thought I would experience - a wise father-figure whom I respected and cared for.

Mycroft and I were having lunch one day at Simpsons in The Strand, when there was a most unexpected occurrence. We were sitting at our table enjoying a delightful selection of cakes washed down with the finest quality tea, when a couple sat at the table beside us. She was young and pretty, very shy and demure. He was a strange character, talkative with the slightest hint of an Irish accent and attractive with a mop of thick hair and cheeky smile. He was clearly flirtatious and ill at ease in his expensive, badly fitting suit.

The oddest thing of all was that the young girl kept referring to him as Doctor Watson and he sat there confidently boasting about his medical career. It was a most fortunate coincidence that this imposter would take the table next to my own and I resolved to put a swift, embarrassing end to his little game.

I instructed Mycroft to play along then sorted out a waiter willing to assist in return for an extra large tip. Once all was in place, I suddenly stood up from my seat coughing madly and clawing at my throat. “Choking! choking!” I cried, flailing around and putting in a most excellent performance.

Mycroft jumped up and shouted, “Please, is there a doctor present? This lady needs urgent help!”

By now I was on the floor next to the imposter’s table and most of Simpsons were looking my way. The room was full of gasps. The prim young woman proudly stood up and outstretched her hand in the direction of her companion. “This man is a doctor!” she announced.

Through my mock coughing I saw him flash crimson and wriggle uncomfortably in his chair. The whole room fell quiet with hushed expectation as all eyes turned upon the young man. I let out a few more dramatic gurgles, holding up my arms to him.

“Go on, help her!” the young girl urged, surprised that her companion had not already rushed to give aid.

“You must do something doctor, please,” urged Mycroft, playing his part extremely well.

By now, our victim was overwhelmed with panic and did exactly what I thought he would. He rose hurriedly and bolted as fast as his legs could carry him towards the door.

Fortunately my waiter was there to catch him and I sprang to my feet.

“All fine,” I announced to the startled room, “bit of cake stuck, sorry for the disturbance.”

I ran after my victim leaving Mycroft to pacify the young woman and settle her bill as the imposter clearly had no intention of doing so himself.

Once at the door I thanked the waiter and handed over the agreed amount.

“You set me up!” the imposter shouted.

“Come on,” I said, taking his arm, “let’s take a walk.” I steered him out into the street to begin my interrogation.

“So, what brings you here from Ireland besides trying to con wealthy young women into thinking you are a successful doctor?”

“I’ve come to find my brother, not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, you’ve made it my business by imitating my friend.”

He stopped walking and turned to me in surprise.

“You know John? No, surely not, too much of a coincidence. Besides, John is far too sensible to have a friend like you, no offense. You made a right fool of me back there but you’ve got spirit I’ll give you that. My brother would be terrified of a woman like you.”

Now it was my turn to look surprised.

“John Watson is your brother? Doctor John H Watson? I don’t believe you.”

“I know we don’t look alike much, actually we’re not alike in any way. I’m a gambler, like my liquor and like the ladies most of all. I’ve been in Ireland this past decade, doing bits of this an’ that. Missed him though, thought I’d come and try to make peace.”

“No, you came because you need money. That suit is clearly stolen. Jesus, if you’re going to steal a suit at least help yourself to one that fits.”

We walked on in silence.

He relaxed a little and smiled. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“You first,” I insisted.

The young man held out his hand.

“Ronald Watson. Ronnie mainly.”

I looked into his eager face and a big flop of curly hair fell down over his forehead. He did not feature John much except for that mop of curly hair. He looked to be about thirty years old, but had a boyish charm which made him appear much younger and very handsome. He was refreshingly self-deprecating and I found myself cautiously trusting him but was struggling to accept that he really was my friend’s brother. Why had John never mentioned a sibling?

I shook his hand strongly, “Red.”

“Just Red?”

“Indeed.”

“Well, just Red, all you need to do now is tell me where I can find big brother John and I’ll be on my way.”

I threw back my head and let out a hearty laugh.

“If you think I’m letting you anywhere near John after the performance you just staged, you are stupid as well as a useless liar.”

“Who are you, his keeper?”

“I am his friend and business partner. It seems to me like a bit of a coincidence that John starts to become successful and his long-lost little brother turns up hoping to renew acquaintances.”

“I know that’s how it looks. That’s why I stole the suit. Didn’t want him to know I’ve got nothing. Was going to pretend I had made something of myself. That little girl back there at Simpsons, her father is an industrialist, owns a big factory or two. Once she had fallen in love with me, which wouldn’t have taken very long I promise you, I was going to tell her the truth and see if her old man could give me work. Supervisor maybe, on account of his girl’s love for me, you see?

“Oh, it all sounds a bit pathetic when you say it out loud but I didn’t want John to know I was poor. Truth is; Ireland was great at first. Alcohol everywhere, tinkers sure do love a drink. The girls were willing too. But, over the years I just got myself in a right old mess. Made enemies and owed lots of money. I missed having family and reckoned I needed someone sensible in my life, stop me being such an idiot. I missed John, really I did. I know, it was a surprise to me too. I’ve got a few things I need to say to him. That’s the whole truth. I promise.”

Ronnie had been in London a few days. He had nowhere to stay, no money and his plan to fool John into thinking he had made a success of himself was ridiculous. I don’t know why I trusted him. Perhaps it was because he was so honest about his own failings. However, I would not risk taking him to John. Instead we spent a long afternoon together, walking and talking. He told me about his father, a terrible alcoholic.

“It’s a family curse you see,” Ronnie explained, “the drinking. Don’t know how John managed to escape it really. Just too normal I suppose.”

I felt rather hurt that I had told John everything about my life, sat up through the night talking about things I have told no-one else before and since, but he had only ever hinted at family feuds.

I still didn’t know for sure that Ronnie was telling me the truth but my instincts were screaming at me to trust him against all the odds.

I found him cheap lodgings and settled a month’s rent for which he was most grateful.

“You are my only friend in the world”, he declared with a cheeky smile. For a second or two I saw Jude standing there in his place.

Chapter Seventeen

That evening, John and I sat in our kitchen eating supper. I broke the news to him that his younger brother was in the city and wanted to meet.

John’s reaction was very out of character for such a mild-mannered person. He became angry and insisted that he wanted nothing to do with Ronnie, never wished to see him again or hear his name mentioned in the house. A raw old wound had been opened.

He insisted that I was not to contact Ronald again. Naturally, I ignored his wishes, being more inclined to trust my own judgement than anyone else’s.

Now that I knew Ronnie’s story was true, I was determined to bring them both together somehow. I felt that they needed each other in order to heal their deep-seated hurt.

I continued to visit Ronnie. I took him food parcels and listened to tales of his antics in Ireland. I asked him why John felt so strongly about him but he would reveal no more details about his family’s intriguing story. All he would say was that he understood why John felt as he did and couldn’t blame him.

John continued to refuse to have any contact with Ronald and a rather tense, awkward atmosphere fell upon our little house.

Matters finally came to a head when Ronnie announced to me that he was leaving London. As a month had nearly passed with no contact from his brother, he concluded that his mission was futile. He had been unable to find work and decided it was time to move on. A contact had told him of work available in Birmingham so Ronnie asked to borrow the train fare from me and I got him a ticket for that afternoon.

I felt sad that he was leaving. We had things in common. We were two people who had made bad choices but I had been given a second chance and so far, he hadn’t. I knew that the wound being suffered by my friend would remain, unless I could somehow bring them together.

I rushed to the surgery to find John and make one last attempt to persuade him. I marched into his consulting room as Sandy dutifully followed at my heel as always.

“He’s leaving on the four o’clock train from Euston today. Whatever it is that happened between you cannot remain unresolved. It’s not healthy to carry anger with you, I should know. Just go and say goodbye, he’s got work in Birmingham so you’ll never have to see him again if you don’t want. At least go and shake his hand or listen to what he came here to say to you.”

John slowly put down the medical document he was working on and exhaled deeply.

“Why did you meddle in this? Just because he reminds you of Jude, doesn’t mean he deserves anything from us.”

“Yes, he does remind me of Jude. But the real truth is that Jude reminded you of Ronnie, that’s why you found it in your heart to befriend him despite everything. You rushed back to save him in Paris and you held him in your arms while he died because, in part, you were thinking of your own brother.

“You still care for Ronald, if not he wouldn’t provoke such a strong reaction. You still care John, I know you do and that big heart of yours must have the room for a little forgiveness.”

“He’s not my brother, not really. He’s my father’s bastard. He’s my father through and through. I don’t want him in my life after what he did. You don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t and I can’t unless you tell me what happened. Very well, he’s only your half- brother but that’s not how he refers to you. You can’t blame him for the sins of your father. We all make mistakes John; you are hardly immune from that yourself.”

My heart sank when I met Ronnie on the platform to say goodbye. There was no sign of his elder brother.

“I’m sorry, I really tried,” I said sadly.

“No matter, don’t blame him really. You’ve been fantastic Red, what a character! You’re brilliant. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done, most of all for believing me, trusting me. My brother is so lucky to have you in his corner. Look after him.”

He kissed me on the cheek and lifted his little case, ready to board the waiting train.

“See you sometime,” he said, walking to the carriage door.

“Wait!”

The shout came from behind us. Ronnie almost dropped his case in surprise. He stood transfixed with shock as the brother he hadn’t seen in over ten years started to walk towards him.

They just stared at each other for a few long, silent seconds - Ronnie looking rather shabby and John looking wealthy and confident in his expensive suit.

John finally approached his brother and took the battered case from his hand.

“You are coming home with us, there is much to be said and you clearly need to be brought under control.” He turned to me, “I hope you are right about this Red.”

He then strode towards the exit carrying his brother’s case of meagre belongings away from the four o’clock to Birmingham and into a whole new life.

And so it came to pass that Ronald Watson became part of our lives and I eventually learned of the family tragedy which had done so much to shape the personality of John Watson, the difficult and unconventional past which lay beneath the stoic facade.

When we returned to the house, John instructed Tilly to prepare the third bedroom for our guest. She blushed as Ronald smiled at her.

“Shall I set an extra place for dinner, doctor?” she asked.

“No, Mr Watson will be making his own arrangements for dinner,” John retorted with hostility and then retreated into his study banging the door behind him and leaving us all standing awkwardly in the hall.

Tilly took Ronnie to his room. I decided to decline dinner myself and go to the surgery to work in my office, leaving the two brothers alone to talk.

I returned late and heard raised, angry voices coming from the study.

I heard John talking about his mother and how she had always done her best to raise Ronald, to which he angrily retorted that she hadn’t raised him, but had simply tolerated him. At which point John burst out of the study nearly knocking me over and disappeared upstairs, not to be seen again that evening.

The atmosphere remained tense for a few days and I stayed out of the way as much as I could.

On the afternoon of the third day John came out of his consulting room and entered my office looking rather haggard from lack of sleep.

“Can you spare me a little time?” he asked, holding up a bottle of malt.