"Its elementary, my dear watson"
It Astounds me, deeply and truly,
How he sees all and observes everything,
that others will fail to even name or discern
He knows all, he believes he sees all.
He believes he alone can understand the realm.
That he is the sole interpreter of men's will.
The likes of him have not been seen,
And i am afraid that they never will be again,
Yet the flame of genius,
Provides warmth, yet also burns
His intellect has become his disease
His mind suffers, his genius ails him,
So he elevates his suffering of the mind,
By giving into the urges,
His consumption has become my torment
destroying both his mind and body.
I wish to help him,
I should be able to help him,
I long have desired to aid him,
But you can not save the drowning man
That fancies himself burning.
He is brilliant,
That even his foes knows,
Without doubt and utmost certainty,
A mind that shall be
the greatest to ever grace
This realm of men.
He is the best detective,
A great scientist that might rival the likes of Newton,
Even a greater man of honor and virtue.
Yet with no small amount of pride,
I am able to derive more honor
Not in valor or Knighthood,
But In Friendship.
That he is my friend,
As I am his.