Token of Appreciation [286 words]
Everything Watson had ever owned had been just like him; completely and utterly ordinary. He wore a commonplace coat and a humble hat in the dull, muddy colours that seemed to blend in so well everywhere he went in London, and his shirts, although always clean and soft against his skin, were plain and pedestrian. Even his pocket-watch, which had at one point in its existence been quite exceptional, had been worn down to mediocrity by the time it came into his possession.
That is why Holmes’ gift was so extraordinary.
The rich, smooth leather that covered the opera handle was in the same warm, dark shade of brown as the wood beneath it. The cane was heavy; sturdy and durable, just like Watson. A golden border decorated the ivory collar, and beneath it, Watson’s initials had been engraved into the bone in capital letters.
“Your full name might give us away if we were ever trying to conceal our identities,” Holmes explained casually.
Watson did not know what to say, so he just gave an approving hum and a nod. He weighed his gift in his hands, turning it about solemnly, examining it closely. It was heavy. It was the weight of money and of luxury and of things Watson had never had; things Watson had never known he wanted.
Holmes sat curled up on the settee, fingertips together and a slight smirk playing on his lips. He enjoyed seeing his otherwise so articulate friend struggle to find words.
“Now, now,” Holmes finally laughed. “A simple ‘thank you’ will do. It is just a stick, after all.”
But it was not just a stick, and they both knew it.
“Thank you, Holmes,” Watson said.