I wasn't proud of robbing graves, it was just something I did to make ends meet. London was expensive and a bit of gold jewelry and a stiff's best suit went a long way to paying the rent. My wife would have killed me if she knew, but she didn't know. If I ever did a good thing in my life it was letting her think I was an adulterer instead of a ghoul. She died never knowing, poor soul. No, I wasn't proud of robbing graves but I don't regret it either.
It was maybe two years into my uncomfortably close relationship with death that the doctor made my acquaintance. He wasn't what you'd expect a man who cuts bodies open for a living to look like. First off, Doctor Oscar O'Grady was exceedingly short for a man in this region. He barely came up to my shoulders, myself being only average. Despite being middle aged, his hair was thick and appeared an alarming shade of orange. I cross my heart he must have dyed it. He was always clean shaven and presentable. Almost handsome. His expression always conveyed enthusiasm and interest but his pale blue eyes were dull and detached. It was as if they were on the wrong person. Innumerable white coats were in his possession, each with unique and suspicious stains in a multitude of colours. His build was average. However, his hands were exceedingly strong and offered a firm, reassuring grip. He never married, but spoke to me often about his desire to. If it weren't for the evils deep inside him, I think he would have quite happily.
Anyway, enough about him. There's no use in dwelling on the faces of the dead, it's best to stick them in the ground and leave them for the worms. As I was saying before I got sidetracked, I'd been robbing the deceased for two years when I met the doctor. I was fixing a roof in a university lecture hall when I first heard his cheerful exclamation. "You're Mr.Travis Adams, sir! Are you not?"
"I've been known to go by that name!" I shouted back from my precarious perch on an ancient pillar I didn't really trust to hold my weight. "Where did you hear it, if I may ask?"
"Well, I think you'll find it rather silly sir... but I have been seeking you out. I think you may be of great service to me."
"Not at the moment I'm afraid, doc. I'm awful busy," I explained, shivering as a few drops of cold water dripped onto my trousers. "Roofs don't fix themselves, you know!"
He nodded, fiddling with the black top hat in his hands. "Of course, I'm being most inconsiderate. If it doesn't inconvenience you, meet me outside the first boarding house on Baker Street on this coming Sabbath morning. You do not strike me as the pious sort, so I trust missing church will not dissuade you. I'll make it worth your while," He proposed.
I considered this for a minute, rather taken aback. Any sensible fellow would have declined immediately. Curiosity got the better of me though, as it so often does in sordid tales like mine. I'm ashamed to admit I rather too hastily agreed. He made his departure soon after and left me to ponder the potential folly of my decision.
-So, an explanation for this weird thing in a weird book. This might become the first chapter of a short novel or story which will be published separately from this. However, there's always a chance that I won't go through with it for whatever reason and I thought it was too good to pass up completely. Thank you for bothering with it.-
