I had just returned home from a much needed holiday to find my friend entertaining one of the most unusual clients he ever encountered during his career at Baker Street.

I had left the steward to hand my trunks and luggage because I was anxious to see what sort of state Holmes might be in. Therefore, I made streaight for the sitting rooms. I hadn't seen Mrs. Hudson on my way up so she could not have prepared me for the most extraordinary sight that I beheld when I opened the door.

Holmes had been playing on his violin for he still held it at the ready in his hands. He paused momentarily to speak to someone seated on the sofa. But the client must have been a small person indeed because I could not see them over the back of the sofa.

"Mind you," he said pointing his bow at the object on the sofa, "you are nothing compared to the fine doctor; but you do listen rather well. However, I don't suppose that you have much choice in the matter." Holmes was watching his client, studying him or her. "I will be most happy when Watson returns. He should know what to properly do with you." He just stood there resigned watching his client.

So that was it then; the client must be injured and laying on the sofa. That would explain why I couldn't see them before. I moved further into the room to make my presence known. If the person was in need of medical attention, there was no time to lose.

The movement diverted Holmes' attention.

"Watson!" Holmes exclaimed. He discarded his violin on his writing table and rushed to meet me. "Watson." He repeated. "The good Lord is truly merciful to me to have sent you back to me. Its wonderful to have you back, Watson. I observe that the countryside did wonders for your health. You're looking quite fit, old chap." Holmes chattered away. Since he was talking so fast and so much, I figured that he was under the influence of his cocaine or the brandy, or he was letting his guard down briefly to show that he missed me.

With him standing right in front of me I could clearly tell that he must not have had a moments rest since my departure. His face was worn and his whole body showed his fatigue. And in his usually bright, piercing, grey eyes I could tell that he had been a couple days without sleep. That wasn't so unusual when he was working on one of his cases. However, it always concerned me to see him abuse himself that way. I knew that the mind and body both were sharper and more alert when they were well fed and properly rested. And I wondered just how much greater Sherlock Holmes could be if he only took the time and concentration to care for himself.

"Why thank you, Holmes. I must say I'm pleased to see you. I wish you could have joined me. It looks as though you could use some rest yourself."

"Ah, good ole Watson! Always looking after my well being. You are my one loyal companion."

I felt my face flush slightly at his rarely spoken opinion of me. It now sounded like he was buttering me up to something, but I was flattered all the same.

"Well, what seems to be the matter here?" I gestured towards the general direction of the sofa.

"Umm…..why don't you come in and see for yourself."