Origins Read Online Free

most people, never married and no kids would be unusual but for a management consultant, who was probably on the road fifty weeks out of the year, it was a pretty common circumstance.  Maybe a few divorces thrown in the mix would have been more typical.  Nothing really stood out about the man except his name. 
    On a whim Jeffrey brought his desktop computer to life with a wiggle of the mouse and opened a Google search window.  He carefully typed in the letters exactly as they appeared on the folder H-A-S-T-E-L-L-O-Y, and hit enter.  There was only one result, but it gave a concise definition.
    Hastelloy – a highly corrosion-resistant metal alloy capable of surviving under high-pressure, high-stress service in corrosive environments where more common materials fail.
    “Survive under high-pressure, high-stress service,” Dr. Holmes repeated softly.  “Physically maybe, but we will have to see about mentally.”
    With that thought there was a knock at the door, and Tara entered the room escorting Hastelloy along with a particularly large and muscular orderly named Terry assisting.  Most of the patients at Henderson Home were not prone to violence but it didn’t hurt to show a stout presence in the room just in case.
    Dr. Holmes got up and met the man in front of the couch and chairs arrangement.  First impressions were important and Hastelloy definitely made one.  He was a few inches over six feet with broad muscular shoulders and arms to go along with his short salt and pepper colored hair and tanned complexion.  He must get all the girls at bars when he’s on the road with his consulting projects Jeffrey thought. 
    What was particularly striking about the man was the confidence conveyed in his facial features.  There was no sign of stress or worry, but every indication of intelligence as he took in the nuances of his surroundings.  This man owned himself plain and simple.  What in the world was he doing here?
    Jeffrey extended his hand to greet the patient, “Good morning , I am Dr. Holmes.  I’ll be responsible for your treatment during your stay here with us at Henderson Home.”
    Hastelloy met Jeffrey’s handshake with a stiff but not crushing grip and locked eye contact.  “Thank you for the warm welcome Dr. Holmes.  Tara has told me a great deal about you, and I have every confidence my time here will be well spent.”
    Where on earth could that accent have come from?  It was like every, and yet no discernable speech pattern all at once.   “That’s a very unique accent you have, may I ask where you’re from?” Jeffrey inquired.
    “Lots of places.”  Hastelloy responded and after a brief pause continued, “all of them wondrous and leaving a distinct impression.  So, Dr. Holmes tell me, where is Mr. Watson?  The great detective can’t be expected to solve the great mystery that is me without his trusty side kick can he?”
    Jeffrey tried to count the number of times he’d heard that joke before.  “I see you’re a well read man if you know the likes of Sherlock Holmes and his dear Watson.  You must realize you’re not the first person to use that joke on me though.”
    “Yes I do, but Sir Arthur Conan Doyle would still have appreciated the joke I think. His writing may have been straight laced, but he actually had a great sense of humor.  I do miss swapping stories with him over beer and a game of chess, but time moves on.”
    It does indeed; especially considering the famed author of the Sherlock Holmes novels died in 1930. 
    Dr. Holmes suddenly realized they were still standing in the middle of the room holding hands and locked in each other’s gaze.  Jeffrey broke eye contact to look at Tara.  “Thank you for showing him in.  I’ll call you when we’ve finished the session.”  Jeffrey shifted his line of sight to the orderly still standing at the door, “Thank you, Terry, I think it’s safe for Hastelloy and I to talk in private.”
    With that, Terry