Hanging By A Thread, Chapter The First.
A/N Hi, everyone, I'm BA-AK! I hope that you have as much fun reading this as I have had putting it together.
It was a beautiful crisp October day. Watson was walking home from his surgery, taking the long way home, and admiring the scenery. He strolled along, woolgathering, and taking in the reds, goldens, and brown hues to be found in the trees, as well as the pumpkins and corn and colorful ribbons and candles that decorated the porches. All in all, it made for a lovely walk, even if it did go right past the docks and sort of smell like fish for a bit of the walk. It went by a pretty nice pub, it did, and that seemed to the good (dry) doctor to be compensation enough indeed.
Yes, he thought about many adventures that he had had with Sherlock Holmes, for almost every place that he laid his eyes had something to do with one or the other of them. Here was where he had gotten the cab to come and collect Holmes in that case about the French forger, and right over there was where Holmes had gotten knifed by that arsonist, (for a while, they thought that he was going to graduate to a murderer.) And right over there was that pub that he remembered being there. He thought that he would darken it's doors for old time's sake. He figured that that was a perfectly good idea. So did the person watching him.
About three- quarters of an hour later, Watson emerged from the pub. The sun was starting to set as he made his way back to more frequented roads. A child ran up to him. " You carry a bag like a doctor. Are you a doctor ? My Daddy grabbed his chest and fell over and he needs help! This way..." She ran into a dark warehouse, with the alarmed medic following her. Watson really never saw it coming. He leaned over the man to listen for breath sounds and the man raised up and clouted the astonished doctor.