Kate was in tears. She hadn't seen her husband, Isa, in two days.

Dr. John Watson knew where he was. So did Watson's wife, Mary. Everyone knew where he'd gone.

Mary sat Kate down. And told her that her husband, Isa Whitney, was addicted to opium.

Oh, yeah, I know. It's a Kate. But he usually confines it to a day and comes home and I clean him up after he comes down.

And...

And you're okay with this? Watson questioned?

Oh, no, not remotely. But have you looked into laws regarding women initiated divorces in Victorian England?

Because there are literally no laws regarding women initiated divorces, Kate said.

John Watson froed his brow.

Isa Whitney was his friend and patient. He asked Kate how he could help, though he already knew the answer.

Ten minutes later, he was heading out. Again, he had already had a long, long day at his clinic.

And he was now going to an opium den. But not for the reason people usually went to opium den's.

Watson pulled up outside the completely legal and legitimate establishment where people came to buy and use opium.

It wouldn't be outwalled in Britain for another 20 plus years.

The place was called the Bar of Gold. He took one look down the alley and turned back to his cabby, asking the gentleman to wait for him.

The man looked up and down the streets and calmed his horses.

He told Watson to be quick about it. He didn't like this neighborhood.

Down the dark alley, John located the discrete door. As soon as he opened it, brown opium smoke blasted him in the face.

He grimaced and entered. After charting down the wooden stairs warned smooth by years of shuffling feet,

he found himself in a room lined with bodies. You would only know they weren't dead by the fact that some of them labored to look up occasionally.

Their glazed over eyes barely were just turned a newcomer.

Watson noticed the occasional orange glow of pipes around the room. But it was otherwise still.

...