~ John H. Watson

A long steel-built passenger train travels through an open plain, speeding past livestock, crops, and the occasional house and farm. Three train cars from the front engine a young man, with short brown hair, dark blue fedora hat, and dress in a plaid shirt, grey overcoat, and dark grey regular fit jeans. His bluish-green eyes stare out the window at the passing scenery. Beside him laying accross the booth seat is a walking cane with a silver handle at the top. On top of his lap is a leather cover book with a pen sticking out from its pages. On the fornt of the book there is a metal label and the name John H. Watson is etched on it. After a few moments he leans his back against the soft cushion, resting his head on the head rest. A few seats back a coversation could just barely be made between two other men. 

"It was a dreadful thing wasn't it?" One man says. 

"You mean that pointless battling?" The other answers. 

"Yes, it last for 6 long years but what does anyone have to show for it? A bunch of fatalities and soldiers who lost their place in this world." The first man adds. 

"Well we don't need to worry about them. Most probably won't find their way back to civilization." The second man chuckles. 

John lowers his hat over his eyes and as the passenger car rocks back and forth, he drifts off to sleep. 

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Several miles away traveling down a paved highway, a cab is making its way towards the Nxydern city limits. An air of awkward silence fills the car between the driver and his passenger. The cab driver, wearing his yellow checker striped hat glances up at the rearview mirror. Sitting in the back seat is a thin young man, he has black, shoulder length hair that's a bit wavy. His short bangs cover up his eye brows and he is wearing a white long dress shirt, dark blue wool overcoat, and a dark brown two button men suit. The man's attention is in a book that he is reading, the title, Scientific Experiments for the Future. 

"Sir, we have been traveling for a few hours but you haven't said anything. Is everything okay?" The drive asks hesitantly. 

There is no response from the passenger as he continues to let his eyes skim over the pages in his book. The cap drive reaches down to the radio. 

"Don't turn on the radio. Listening to tones of voices reciting words through constant melody tunes causes distruption to my concentration." The passenger replies. 

The cab drive jolts his hand away from the dial and glances back at the man. He doesn't look away from his book and goes quiet again. The driver places both hands on the wheel again and looks at the road. 

"You said it will break your concentration. Are you a scientist of some kind?" The driver asks. 

The man pauses and glances up from his book. 

"Do you think I'm a scientist based on the book I am reading? You do know that there is more to a person than what you see in front of you." The man answer backs. 

"For example, I can tell that as a cab driver this isn't your full time job. There are calluses on both your hands, showing you work in hard labor. With the amount of saw dust under your finger nails it easy to say that you work with construction. As for the type is a mixture of cedar and plywood suggestion that you build houses instead of office building construction. I can also smell gas, but the kind used with power tools, showing that you handle saws, drills and sanders to name a few." The man begins. 

The cab driver has a hard time keeping up but the man continues. "The reason for this you also have a fear of heights that doesn't seem to bother you on two floors, but different for three floors plus. When we went over that bridge, your hands gripped the steering wheel so tight that they turned white, while there were beads of sweat on your forehead. Your eyes kept darting towards the left and right, causing the car to shift ever so slightly as you tried to stay directly in the center of the lane." The man says. "You must really be tight on money to work two jobs during the days and get little sleep at night. You have faded bags under your eyes showing lack of sleep, you keep adjusting your shoulders to show stiffness and you keep rubbing your head. You also have pain killers with you to treat a constant headache you have. Please be careful when you drive I wouldn't want to be put in an accident." 

The man's cold tone stops and he looks back down at his book. The cab driver slams on his breaks and the cab comes to a screeching halt. He quickly turns back to the man his breath caught in his throat. 

"Just who are you?" He says with suspicion. 

This time the man closes the book, crosses his legs, and folds both hands on his lap over the book. He glances up to meet the drivers eyes contact. 

"You may call me Holmes, Sherlock Holmes, and to answer your earlier question, I'm a consulting detective. To answer your other question, I'm looking for a fresh start. It got boring where I was previously and there was so little do." Sherlock says. 

"I didn't even ask that." The cab driver says. 

"You don't need to. The question is all over your face. As a cab driver you have gained the curiosity of wondering about your passengers, especially those who seem to be out of the ordinary. On our trip so far, I caught you continously looking back at me trying to 'figure' me out. Honestly, I was figuring you would say something sooner but you took this long to break the silence." Sherlock opens his book back up. "We are suppose to be at Nyxdern by 10 AM. We still have 15 miles to go and its 9:25 AM,  please try not to break any speed limits so that we can reach our destination on time." Sherlock says. 

His full attention goes back to his book and the cab driver is left speechless. He places the car back into drive and continues down the road. A few miles later, the car passes a big green sign that reads, "Welcome to Nyxdern".