Hades Lord of the Dead's December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness 2014-2015 - 10th of December
[Prompt from TemporarilyAbaft]Prompt for the 10th of December From TemporarilyAbaft - 'Rampage', 'lank', 'desk', 'south', 'leap', and 'sketch' - all used in a story (leniency on tenses and plurals; no specific order; go for it!)
When I came down to breakfast, I discovered a note on the table beside the empty coffee pot. It was rushed and simply informed me that Holmes had gone out and knew not when he might return. That did not come as a surprise, per se, but as the day was Christmas Eve I did feel somewhat saddened and disappointed. How could he work on Christmas Eve anyhow? I myself only would in a matter of life and death.
With a sigh (and breakfast, for once, quite forgotten), I took to my desk. I supposed that I had might as well organise a Christmas shopping list before taking to the high street, taking advantage of the lack of a complaining detective or wailing violin to interfere with my concentration.
The streets were busy, but I enjoyed myself - a bustling high street full of rampaging shoppers on Christmas Eve is festive and excitement filled the air as I made my purchases. I hardly noticed the chill in the air or the threat of the heavy snow clouds as they slowly obscured the blue sky and wintery sun.
I did not stop until I had a gift for every one of my friends. Suddenly finding myself to be feeling weak and weary, I checked my watch and realised that I had missed both breakfast and lunch, as I have so often chastised Holmes for doing. Perhaps it is somewhat easier to do than I had realised.
"Watson!"
I turned in surprise as none other than Sherlock Holmes approached me.
"Where the deuce have you been?" the fellow demanded to know. "When I returned to Baker Street, I thought that you would still be there in this weather. It is going to snow, you know. Here, let me take those bags."
I was glad that I had been able to afford to have Holmes' gifts wrapped in the shop, for I have little doubt that he would have noticed at least one of them - however unintentionally - when he confiscated my bags and took my arm.
"Are you hungry?" he enquired as he studied my face.
I nodded but did not confess that I had not had more than a cup of tea since I had got up that morning.
He gave a relieved smile. "Mrs. Hudson was frightfully concerned when she discovered that you had not had a bite to eat this morning. Too busy, were you? Or simply too excited, perhaps?"
Of course I could not keep anything from the irksome fellow. "All right Holmes! Point taken. I admit it, I missed both breakfast and lunch. But it is not a thing that I am in the habit of doing..."
He chuckled and hailed a cab. "Indeed not - and kindly refrain from doing so. Up you go Watson."
I climbed inside the growler that had stopped and Holmes leapt up beside me, his face bright with amusement. He tossed the provided blankets about us both and directed the driver to take us to Simpsons.
The meal was a quiet affair. Holmes was pensive and silent, but did eat some of his meal. I also ate without a word, leaving my companion to his thoughts.
"Do you have anywhere that you need to be?" my friend asked of me when the plates were cleared away and the bill paid.
I shook my head. "No, I did not have much to do."
"Back to Baker Street then? I do believe that the weather is indeed turning, as predicted."
"If there is nowhere else that you need to be old fellow."
He smiled and shook his head as we took up our outdoor clothing and sticks. "No indeed. My work is done; the villain caught and the innocent freed. The remainder of the day is ours."
As we hailed a cab the snow started to fall in a gentle flurry. My companion growled.
"A white Christmas is festive old fellow," said I.
He snorted. "It is a damned nuisance! I have a mind to travel south for the winter - or else to hibernate!"
I laughed at the very idea. "Hibernate? You find sleeping for an entire night difficult enough. You would become bored - you know that you would."
"Then I shall have to save what money I can and travel south for the winter. Do not laugh Watson - I was going to ask if you would come."
I grinned, for I found it quite impossible to take him seriously. "I would be delighted my dear fellow. Where would you go? The Rivera?"
He hummed and stretched his lank body in a languid manner while the cab slowed to a crawl as the traffic about us was forced to reduce its speed by the falling snow. "Perhaps. It would be better than remaining here. It is freezing!"
"It is winter," I retorted. "Really Holmes!"
"Really Watson! After Afghanistan, it surprises me very much that you can bear it..." he shivered and huddled beneath his blankets, muttering something beneath his breath about horrible English weather.
Suddenly concerned, I rested a hand upon his knee. "Are you all right?"
"What? Oh. Yes, of course I am Watson. Bored, that is all. I have partaken of the most commonplace, elementary affair..." he shook his head and rubbed at his forehead with a gloved hand. "I have had to prove to Gregory that he had the wrong man, that the evidence against him was circumstantial at best... I wore myself out over it! And then the wretched inspector did not even have the common decency to see that I was present when the perpetrator was finally caught."
"What was the crime? A murder?"
Holmes shook his head and sniffed. "A theft. The only evidence was a dropped cigarette, a matchbook and a sketch."
I leaned closer. "A sketch?"
"A sketch, yes. On the wall next to the window - in charcoal. What do you make of that Watson?"
I frowned and leaned back again. "I am sure I don't know! What did you make of it?"
Holmes smiled. "My client's husband is an artist. He has a distinctive - though quite easy to copy, as I myself demonstrated - sketching style. If I were about to commit a crime, I would not draw on the wall at the scene. Not unless doing so might implicate somebody else - particularly if I held a grudge against the fellow and had already threatened to ruin him."
"I see. So, this enemy planned the entire thing."
Holmes snorted. "He did indeed - and expected to get away with it. He was found at home, with the valuables in his safe. It was so ludicrously simple that Gregory was able to make the arrest himself once I had explained the particulars. Never again Watson - never again shall I give information so very freely before I have you at my side to enjoy the conclusion of the case."
With that, the fellow lapsed into a stony silence, the prelude of a black mood.
I cleared my throat somewhat nervously. "Holmes..."
He gave a start and looked up with a disgruntled frown. "Yes?"
I took one of the packages from one of the many bags and offered it to him. "Merry Christmas old fellow."
When I came down to breakfast, I discovered a note on the table beside the empty coffee pot. It was rushed and simply informed me that Holmes had gone out and knew not when he might return. That did not come as a surprise, per se, but as the day was Christmas Eve I did feel somewhat saddened and disappointed. How could he work on Christmas Eve anyhow? I myself only would in a matter of life and death.
With a sigh (and breakfast, for once, quite forgotten), I took to my desk. I supposed that I had might as well organise a Christmas shopping list before taking to the high street, taking advantage of the lack of a complaining detective or wailing violin to interfere with my concentration.
The streets were busy, but I enjoyed myself - a bustling high street full of rampaging shoppers on Christmas Eve is festive and excitement filled the air as I made my purchases. I hardly noticed the chill in the air or the threat of the heavy snow clouds as they slowly obscured the blue sky and wintery sun.
I did not stop until I had a gift for every one of my friends. Suddenly finding myself to be feeling weak and weary, I checked my watch and realised that I had missed both breakfast and lunch, as I have so often chastised Holmes for doing. Perhaps it is somewhat easier to do than I had realised.
"Watson!"
I turned in surprise as none other than Sherlock Holmes approached me.
"Where the deuce have you been?" the fellow demanded to know. "When I returned to Baker Street, I thought that you would still be there in this weather. It is going to snow, you know. Here, let me take those bags."
I was glad that I had been able to afford to have Holmes' gifts wrapped in the shop, for I have little doubt that he would have noticed at least one of them - however unintentionally - when he confiscated my bags and took my arm.
"Are you hungry?" he enquired as he studied my face.
I nodded but did not confess that I had not had more than a cup of tea since I had got up that morning.
He gave a relieved smile. "Mrs. Hudson was frightfully concerned when she discovered that you had not had a bite to eat this morning. Too busy, were you? Or simply too excited, perhaps?"
Of course I could not keep anything from the irksome fellow. "All right Holmes! Point taken. I admit it, I missed both breakfast and lunch. But it is not a thing that I am in the habit of doing..."
He chuckled and hailed a cab. "Indeed not - and kindly refrain from doing so. Up you go Watson."
I climbed inside the growler that had stopped and Holmes leapt up beside me, his face bright with amusement. He tossed the provided blankets about us both and directed the driver to take us to Simpsons.
The meal was a quiet affair. Holmes was pensive and silent, but did eat some of his meal. I also ate without a word, leaving my companion to his thoughts.
"Do you have anywhere that you need to be?" my friend asked of me when the plates were cleared away and the bill paid.
I shook my head. "No, I did not have much to do."
"Back to Baker Street then? I do believe that the weather is indeed turning, as predicted."
"If there is nowhere else that you need to be old fellow."
He smiled and shook his head as we took up our outdoor clothing and sticks. "No indeed. My work is done; the villain caught and the innocent freed. The remainder of the day is ours."
As we hailed a cab the snow started to fall in a gentle flurry. My companion growled.
"A white Christmas is festive old fellow," said I.
He snorted. "It is a damned nuisance! I have a mind to travel south for the winter - or else to hibernate!"
I laughed at the very idea. "Hibernate? You find sleeping for an entire night difficult enough. You would become bored - you know that you would."
"Then I shall have to save what money I can and travel south for the winter. Do not laugh Watson - I was going to ask if you would come."
I grinned, for I found it quite impossible to take him seriously. "I would be delighted my dear fellow. Where would you go? The Rivera?"
He hummed and stretched his lank body in a languid manner while the cab slowed to a crawl as the traffic about us was forced to reduce its speed by the falling snow. "Perhaps. It would be better than remaining here. It is freezing!"
"It is winter," I retorted. "Really Holmes!"
"Really Watson! After Afghanistan, it surprises me very much that you can bear it..." he shivered and huddled beneath his blankets, muttering something beneath his breath about horrible English weather.
Suddenly concerned, I rested a hand upon his knee. "Are you all right?"
"What? Oh. Yes, of course I am Watson. Bored, that is all. I have partaken of the most commonplace, elementary affair..." he shook his head and rubbed at his forehead with a gloved hand. "I have had to prove to Gregory that he had the wrong man, that the evidence against him was circumstantial at best... I wore myself out over it! And then the wretched inspector did not even have the common decency to see that I was present when the perpetrator was finally caught."
"What was the crime? A murder?"
Holmes shook his head and sniffed. "A theft. The only evidence was a dropped cigarette, a matchbook and a sketch."
I leaned closer. "A sketch?"
"A sketch, yes. On the wall next to the window - in charcoal. What do you make of that Watson?"
I frowned and leaned back again. "I am sure I don't know! What did you make of it?"
Holmes smiled. "My client's husband is an artist. He has a distinctive - though quite easy to copy, as I myself demonstrated - sketching style. If I were about to commit a crime, I would not draw on the wall at the scene. Not unless doing so might implicate somebody else - particularly if I held a grudge against the fellow and had already threatened to ruin him."
"I see. So, this enemy planned the entire thing."
Holmes snorted. "He did indeed - and expected to get away with it. He was found at home, with the valuables in his safe. It was so ludicrously simple that Gregory was able to make the arrest himself once I had explained the particulars. Never again Watson - never again shall I give information so very freely before I have you at my side to enjoy the conclusion of the case."
With that, the fellow lapsed into a stony silence, the prelude of a black mood.
I cleared my throat somewhat nervously. "Holmes..."
He gave a start and looked up with a disgruntled frown. "Yes?"
I took one of the packages from one of the many bags and offered it to him. "Merry Christmas old fellow."