As the summary states, this is a drabble based on the 1950s version of Sherlock Holmes, starring Ronald Howard as Holmes and H. Marion Crawford as Watson. A lot of them will be easy to understand, though, so don't worry if you've never seen them. I think I might actually make this into a series of drabbles, because every time I watch a show I'm getting 54,928,293,874,938 ideas crowding up my mind and I'm dying to write them all down.
I dedicate these to my dear, sweet Zelle (MamzelleCombeferre), who is the only other person that I know who enjoys the old 1950s Sherlock Holmes like I do. This is for you, hun. Based off The Christmas Pudding, but you don't necessarily have to have seen it to understand what's happening.
Underestimate
The two constables, neither of which truly believed the stories which the inspectors told of the great Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his brave Boswell, sniggered to themselves as they discussed the two said men, at whose flat they had been posted to guard the detective against prison escapee John Henry Norton. Both Smith and Jones were in agreement on the opinion that Mr. Holmes himself seemed to be exactly what the rumors all said – superior, quick-witted, and valiant. However, they also agreed upon the point that the ex-Army medico was nothing as Constable Wilkins described. (1) Where their fellow policeman expressed a brave ex-soldier, mentally sound and very common-sensible, with quick reflexes and dependable might, Smith and Jones saw a not over-bright, half-crippled doctor, with a deep naiveté and a significant degree of incompetence, whose daft presence the great detective must take pains to endure.
So the two of them stood for some minutes, conversing beneath the lamppost, until said doctor came half-faltering through the front door of the house and fumbled with his coat buttons as he came down the front porch steps. When he spotted the two policemen, he stopped, glancing up at the lighted second-floor windows, where a lean silhouette loomed at the curtains.
"Watch out for him, gentlemen. I'm fearful that I won't be in time to do so myself."
Then he turned on his heel, placed his shiny black bowler firmly atop his round head, and disappeared into the fog.
Smith and Jones waited until his heavy footfalls had faded into the night before they began chuckling. What could this laughable, simple-minded, over-excitable man possibly do to protect the greatest detective in England against a multiple-times killer like Norton? Certainly he was not suggesting that he was more capable than they in such a situation!
Twenty minutes later, Smith was returning to his position when he spotted Jones lying unconscious in the alley alongside the 221 house. It was then that he understood how ruthless and violent this Norton fellow truly was. Desperately, he leapt to his feet toward the cracked door of the house, praying his own stupidity and slowness had not costed Sherlock Holmes his life.
When he rushed through the front door, Smith found the serial murderer lying at the bottom of the staircase, knocked completely unconscious by a well-aimed blow to the head.
"Ah, officer," called a perfectly steady, composed voice from the top of the seventeen stairs, "this is John Norton, the man you want. Take him away."
It took the constable all of five seconds to arrange his thoughts enough to wonder how the doctor had known to come back so hastily, and then he was mentally renouncing all his erroneous suppositions and vowing to himself that he would never underestimate the man again.
(1) Wilkins is the name Inspector Lestrade's constable assistant.
For anyone who would like to try one of these shows out, I guarantee they will not disappoint. Old they may be, but entertainment is something they do not lack. Ronald and H. Marion are the most loveable versions of Holmes and Watson I have ever seen (Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law included). Message me and I'll see if I can find a way to send you the link for one. Thanks for reading!