This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
We All Must Learn
© 2008 by the author (anonymous by request) in association with Daylor and Sheldon Publishing™
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A/N: CHALLENGE – Write a 'what happened next?' ficlet to CHAS.
Please note, this is NOT based on Granada's adaptation.
We All Must Learn
…Then I caught my breath as I read the time-honored title of the great nobleman and statesman whose wife she had been. My eyes met those of Holmes, and he put his finger to his lips as we turned away from the window.
A week after that silent admonition, I was completing my record of the case in question as Holmes returned from his errand to the tobacconist. From the way he distractedly tossed his parcel and gloves on the table, I judged that something was amiss.
I offered a cheerful hello to break the ice, and he jumped and looked at me as if he had forgotten my existence.
"Oh Watson, I have made a most dreadful blunder," he said finally, hanging his hat and coat.
"I find that difficult to believe Holmes." He gave me a sideways smile as he went back to the small package upon the table, opening it and stuffing his pipe before taking the rest of the tobacco to the Persian slipper.
"Ah Watson, you are beginning to believe your own fictional accounts of our cases, if you think I cannot err."
"I make every effort to retell the events exactly as they occurred," I said, ruffling slightly at his words.
"And then you fill every sentence with garish exaggerations."
"Please, let's not have this argument again," I said, leaving my desk to join him before the fire, "At any rate it will not answer the question of what mistake you seem to think you have made."
"Oh well, I know I have made this mistake. And," he said, glancing at me with an intimation of reproach, "I suppose you are partially to blame for it, what with your publications making my name famous."
"I should think you would thank me for that Holmes. Your list of clients has grown immensely because of that, some being of the highest ranks in London. This last case, with the Lady Eva Blackwell—"
"It is in the course of that case that the error of which I speak was made."
He tilted his head back and steepled his fingers, the smoke from his pipe weaving up toward the ceiling that he suddenly found so engrossing. Knowing he would be more likely to share his thoughts if I were simply patient, I took my own pipe from the end table and joined him in his silent contemplations.
"Well, you will know momentarily," he sighed. "In fact you may be of great help to me," he said, sitting forward in his chair. I looked at him intently, curious as to what had riled him so.
He studied his pipe a moment, as if still uncertain, but the gleam in his eyes told me my answer was soon in coming.
"You recall Watson, that in the case of Lady Blackwell's letters, I found it necessary to purloin information about the goings on of Milverton's household from one of the maids?"
"How could I forget? I don't believe I had ever been so surprised in my life when you 'announced your engagement,' so to speak." He chuckled mirthlessly.
"Yes, that was a bit crude. However, my decision has had an unforeseen consequence."
"Oh?"
"Yes…" he rose and added more tobacco to his pipe, "I have just seen…my 'fiancée' walking up the street. Most likely on her way to consult us over…my disappearance." The implications of his words hit me immediately. Should the woman recognize him, she would surely piece together the events of that sordid night as the police erroneously had. Two men seen running from the scene, Milverton murdered, and the missing plumber Escott the most likely suspect.
I stared at Holmes in alarm and he nodded gravely.
"Yes Watson, I doubt the result will be in our favor if she recognizes me."
"What do you propose to do then? You could stay in your room and I could give her the brush off?"
"No no, it will not do. She will only return later. We have two options as I see it. Allow her entrance, and pray she does not recognize me. Or if she does, reveal all and place our faith in her good moral character."
"You hold her that highly?" Holmes snorted and crossed to my desk and began flipping idly through the report I had just written of the case.
"She is definitely not the highest class of person in society, but a heart of gold Watson, a heart of gold."
"But all too often, a person will sell that heart for something as meaningless as gold. "
"Indeed. That is what concerns me…Watson, what is this?!" he said, waving my new manuscript in the air. I did not have the chance to reply however, for at that moment, Mrs. Hudson entered announcing the lady is question.
"A Miss Agatha Thompson to see you sir," she said, and in an instant we were left alone with the only woman to ever hold the title of fiancée to Sherlock Holmes.
Author's notes: Do I have your attention? Well, do I? Now go answer the challenge yourselves and I may update faster ;-)
