Disclaimer: Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin don't belong to me and never did. They were created by Rex Stout and are property of his heirs. The dialogue included from the original story is just for the purpose of explaining the situation.

Explanation: This story is meant to be filler for Help Wanted, Male. The story takes place during WWII, and although Archie has an official rank in the army, he has been assigned to continue working with Nero Wolfe on some army-related projects in the United States instead of going overseas to fight like his friends. Archie feels left out of the action and tries to get assigned to combat duty, but they imply that Wolfe himself is part of the reason why his requests are always denied. Most of my stories aren't this serious, but this is what I've thought was going on in Wolfe's head during this story. The dialogue that I took directly from the original story is in italics. (I kept some of the dialogue from Help Wanted, Male just to set the scene. The quote about the nature of war, also in italics, comes from another Nero Wolfe story, Over My Dead Body, ch. 8.)

Sugar in the Beer

By Jestress

Our latest would-be client had just left in a huff because I had refused to handle his case. Although I could tell that Archie felt sorry for the man, his situation was not something that we could handle. After letting the man out, Archie returned to the office and stood in front of my desk. There was something on his mind, and he was determined to tell me what it was.

"I have an appointment," Archie announced, "at nine o'clock Thursday morning, in Washington, with General Carpenter."

"Indeed?" I raised my eyebrows at him. Of course, I'd been expecting this, but I wasn't going to explain that to him.

I listened patiently while Archie detailed all of the reasons why he should be allowed to go overseas and fight. For a man of action, staying stateside at a time like this was difficult for him, but if he thought that his belly-aching was going to change anything, he was wrong.

"Nonsense." I told him calmly. "Your three requests to be sent overseas have been denied."

"Yeah, I know." Archie stood at attention, trying to look as much like a soldier on duty as possible. "But that was just colonels and old Fife. Carpenter will see my point. I admit you're a great detective, the best orchid-grower in New York, a champion eater and beer-drinker, and a genius. But I've been working for you a hundred years – anyhow, a lot of years – and this is a hell of a way to spend a war. I'm going to see General Carpenter and lay it out. Of course he'll phone you. I appeal to your love of country, your vanity, your finer instincts – what there is of them . . ."

I let him ramble. His arguments were falling on deaf ears and would continue to fall on deaf ears for the duration of the war if I had anything to say about it.

Finally, he delivered his ultimatum. "If you tell Carpenter it would be impossible for you to get along without me, I'll put pieces of gristle in your crabmeat and sugar in your beer."

I gave him one of my best glares. One never knew with Archie. Sometimes, his threats were merely to get my attention or provoke me into action, but every once in awhile, he actually followed through on them.

I was amused by his ranting, but also troubled. The younger man had spirit, much like I once had. That was a long time ago, during a different war. The war had changed me, as it had changed so many things. I could be as patriotic as the next man, but Archie had already heard my opinions on the nature of war: "War doesn't mature men; it merely pickles them in the brine of disgust and dread." But, of course, young men dreamed of heroic deeds in the heat of battle, a chance to do something brave and patriotic to save the day. Whatever Archie thought about heroic deeds, in the end, war would change him too. I couldn't have that.

Trying as Archie could be at times, I liked the upbeat, energetic younger man who sometimes showed a streak of nobility, a dash of romantic chivalry. As well as goading me to work in spite of my laziness, Archie kept me human, reminding me to think of others. I was selfish and knew that I was, but Archie never let me forget that cases were as much about people as they were a source of income. Archie could be tough, but he genuinely cared about others. A hardened and cynical Archie would be no good to me at all.

And that was if Archie survived. I could still remember (when I allowed myself to) the faces of people I used to know who died in battle. There were others who died afterward of the effects of war, of illness or starvation. The thought of a maimed or dead Archie made my blood run cold.

Archie might hate me for interfering. He might chafe at the thought of being left out of all the excitement while his friends went off to war. He might even follow through on his threat to put sugar in my beer. It didn't matter. I would do what was necessary to keep Archie safe. At least, as safe as possible. I picked up the phone and dialed General Carpenter.