I am one of the head hunters of the Northumber tribe, fifth of its kind and first to hunt beside the elves and centaurs. My cause is to protect those unable to stand for themselves, to build peace and harmony amongst the races. My name is John Hamish Watson, and this is my story.

Many a hunter I saw crafted into brilliant diplomats and soldiers, all fine young men and women whose passion for the cause is as great as my own. We took up a whole village, just my huntsmen and I, so that we may train together.

Today we were headed out to the forest to hunt wild game for the feast tonight in celebration of the peace between the huntsmen and centaurs. I led my men into the heart of the forest alongside the other great leaders known as Gregory Lestrade and a certain Martha Louise Hudson.

I heard a call of sorts out there in the forest and I suppose my curiosity got the better of me as I sent my men to follow Lestrade and Hudson. I followed the glorious sound deeper into the heart of the forest. The trees and shrubbery grew thicker and thicker around me as I ventured on. Finally the trees have and I found myself in an opening. It looked like a small haven, enough for a demigod or nymph.

That's when I met him. He stood - well, he floated actually - there in the midst of it all, surrounded by a steady flow of water and crowned by leaves. He was bare save for a silver and ice blue godly looking cloth tied around his hips to keep descent. He had vines for bracelets and an icy scripture which I could not understand even if I tried for a hundred years to learn it engraved into the loincloth he wore. He seemed to be carved from marble, his body void of any body hair that a human could have.

He opened his eyes, his utterly dazzling pools of emerald and silver and ice, and glared at me. “Who is it that trespasses on my sacred land?” His voice was deep and smooth and so perfectly rough in just the right places. When he spoke, I thought I would melt. I swallowed nervously before steeling my nerves and responding to him. “I am John Hamish Watson of the Northumber tribe, I came in search of game to hold the annual celebratory peace festival between the hunters and centaurs. Please spare me, O holy one.”

He looked amused. “Ah, so it is you, the famous John Watson. I believe you've yet to have heard my name, hence your assumption and apprehension. I am the nymph Sherlock, I rule this forest and it's peoples. The fae live west of my clearing and I have taken a liking to one particular fae which can see through time. He told me of your arrival. Come closer, sit in my field. We have much to discuss.”