Summary: A mysterious figure appears outside 221B Baker Street one night and starts a chain of events that changes the lives of the famous friends, Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. Who is this person and what do they want? Please read and review!
Chapter 1 A Visitor
This is perhaps my favorite of all Holmes' cases, but it is the least well-known. I finally asked Holmes' permission to document the case and he agreed whole-heartedly. I was afraid he would tell me to drop the subject, but he seemed interested in what I had to say. In fact he even assisted me with sharp details, thanks to his acute mind and amazing memory.
I remember the night that started it all quite well. I was just getting over a light case of pneumonia and was resting by the fire one dark and rainy evening. The sickness had weakened me greatly, so much so that I was unable to help Holmes with his influx of cases. In fact that very evening, he was out investigating a case, one that will not be mentioned here.
I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard a series of gunshots. I heard a woman scream in our little apartment and I rushed down to the kitchen to find Mrs. Hudson holding a tea tray which she had spilled over in response to the shots.
"Did you hear them, Doctor?" the woman asked shakily as we began cleaning up the mess, "Gave me quite a fright, it did!"
Suddenly, there was a knock at our door. I left Mrs. Hudson to finish cleaning and looked through the keyhole. All I could see was a mass of long, white hair. Frowning, I opened the door and a strange sight met my eyes.
A boy, maybe sixteen or seventeen, was holding a gigantic Old English sheepdog in his arms. He had on a tweed cap, a white shirt stained with blood, and dark pants which were also wet with blood. The dog was bleeding heavily from a wound in its side and the boy looked hysterical.
"Please sir, someone needs to call a doctor!" he said, his voice high with fright, "My dog, he was shot sir, please call a doctor!"
"Come in lad," I told the boy, stepping aside to let him in, "Take him into the kitchen and lay him on the floor."
The boy did as I told. When we entered the kitchen, Mrs. Hudson let out a cry of shock when she saw the boy and the bleeding dog.
"It's all right, Mrs. Hudson," I said calmly, "Now, I need you to get me my medical bag from upstairs as well as a basin of clean, warm water."
She nodded and left. The boy turned to me with relief.
"You're a doctor!" he said, "Oh thank heavens!"
He let out a gasp of pain and clutched his side. I then realized that not all the blood on his shirt was from his dog.
"You're hurt as well," I said as Mrs. Hudson returned with the bag and basin, "Lie down, I'll tend to you first. Thank you Mrs. Hudson, you should stay, I may need your assistance with the boy."
"NO!" the boy shouted and backed away from me, "Please sir, I'm fine. My dog, he got shot twice, I was only grazed by one. He's…he's dying sir."
The boy's eyes shone with tears. I knew he was determined so, against my better judgment, I decided to tend to the dog first. All the while, the boy held the dog's large head in his hands, whispering comforting words as he fought to keep back the sobs that were trying to escape his lips. I removed the bullets, after having to shave some of the fur out of the way, and cleaned and stitched up the wound. The entire time, the dog didn't make a sound or move. He was obviously very well trained. Once I washed the equipment well, I turned my attention to the young man.
"Now then, do you see your dog is taken care of?" I asked impatiently as the boy backed away from me again.
"Please sir, if I could ask you to do one more thing for me," the boy asked quickly, "I need to find someone who can help me, but obviously my dog cannot come with me. Will you promise to take the best of care of him while I am gone? Will you treat him like you would any human patient?"
"You're not leaving like that!" Mrs. Hudson said hoarsely, "I won't allow it, and I'm sure Dr. Watson will agree with me, being the medical man that he is, that you cannot leave!"
"Dr. Watson?" the boy looked at me, "Sherlock Holmes' assistant? You mean, I'm already at 221B Baker Street?"
"Yes lad," I said kindly, "Now then, can I please have a look at you?"
The boy looked at me suspiciously, then at his dog, and began to come towards me. Suddenly, the door banged open and I heard footsteps running up the stairs.
"Watson?"
"Down here Holmes!" I called and the boy froze.
Holmes' footsteps came down the stairs and into the kitchen. He looked at Mrs. Hudson, myself, the unmoving boy, and then the dog on the floor.
"I see I have missed something," Holmes said, turning his hawk-like eyes on the boy, "Is there something I can do for you, miss?"
I turned to the boy and found him smiling.
"Very observant, Mr. Holmes," she said weakly, taking off the tweed hat and her long, brown hair fell past her shoulders. Then, her eyes rolled up into her head and she fell to the ground.
Holmes frowned at the girl and turned to me.
"I think you better give this young lady some medical attention," he said and left.
Shaking my head, Mrs. Hudson and I carried the girl up the stairs and into the spare bedroom. I left so Mrs. Hudson could bathe the girl and returned when summoned by the landlady.
"She's still out," Mrs. Hudson informed me as I entered.
Mrs. Hudson had put a towel to the wound and had dressed the girl so that I could examine the wound without breaking her personal privacy. It was deeper than a graze, but it would heal on its own. However, in the excitement of everything, I believe the girl had run up her blood pressure and lost enough blood to make her woozy.
"She will be fine, Mrs. Hudson," I told the maid as I bandaged the wound, and happened to look over my shoulder to see her crying, "Why are you crying?"
"She…She reminds me of my niece," Mrs. Hudson said between sobs, "My niece was beautiful, just like this little lass, and she died after being shot while coming home from school. I'm sorry, Doctor."
"No, no Mrs. Hudson, I'm sorry for you. But fear not, this young lady will not meet the same fate as your niece." I finished bandaging and started packing everything up into my bag.
"Dr. Watson," Mrs. Hudson said, "Should someone watch over her tonight, in case her condition takes a turn for the worst?"
"A very good idea," I said, "I shall have to keep watch on her. You go and get some rest."
"If it's all right with you Doctor, I would like to look after her. It would be a pleasure and a burden relieved. After all, the dog's condition is much worse. I think it would be better for a skilled doctor like you to watch over the sicker patient."
It took me a few seconds to realize what Mrs. Hudson was saying and I agreed. In truth, I had forgotten about the dog entirely. The girl's pleas for her dog to be taken care of filled my mind and I knew she would be quite angry with me if her dog died due to my negligence.
"Very well," I said, getting up to leave, "But first I must tell Holmes what has happened, unless he has figured it out for himself. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he did."
I chuckled as I made my way to the sitting room where I knew I would find Holmes at this hour, smoking his pipe as he paced or sat staring at the fire roar. Sure enough, the air was thick with pipe smoke when I entered.
"Ah Watson," Holmes said cheerfully, "I hope that our unexpected guest will make a swift and full recovery?"
"It would seem that way," I said as I lit up my own pipe and joined him by the fire, "Her dog, however, is quite another story. He may not even survive the evening."
"So?" Holmes scoffed, "It is only a brute. She can go out and buy another. Old English sheepdogs are not good for anything but sleeping by the fireplace around these parts. So unless our friend lives in the countryside as a shepherd, I highly doubt the dog is worth much."
"But Holmes," I explained, "She made it quite clear I was to do my best to care for her pet. She would not even let me near her until she was sure I had done everything in my power for her dog."
"It is a strange thing indeed," Holmes said with a disdainful look, "Some people are so blinded by love for others they do not care for themselves."
"Is that not the definition of love?" I asked, frowning, "To care more about the well-being of others than yourself? I'm sure you were in love with someone once, Holmes."
"Never," said Holmes, "Love clouds the mind and causes one to make mistakes. In my career Watson, I cannot afford to make such errors."
I sighed and rose from my chair. On occasions like these, I often wondered if Holmes was human at all.
"Well, nevertheless," I said, putting my pipe out, "The girl obviously cares a great deal about her dog, so much so she worked herself into a faint. I can't even begin to imagine what would happen if her dog did not survive the night. If you need me Holmes, I will be in the kitchen."
"I take it you and Mary have not worked out your disagreement yet?" my friend asked and I sighed.
My wife, Mary, and I had gotten into a rather large argument a week and a half ago. It was something not important, but I had stormed out of the house into the pouring rain and had proceeded to walk all the way to Holmes' apartment and thus, the reason why I caught pneumonia in the first place. Mary had come to the apartment two days after I had left but I had been in a deep sleep thanks to medications. Holmes had told my wife that I needed time away from her to think about things. He had not wanted to worry her with the fact that I was sick.
"No Holmes, I haven't spoken to her since I left the house," I said tiredly. I knew that it was rude that I had not made contact with my wife but I used my illness as an excuse. Now, however, I really had nothing holding me back from discussing the situations with my wife except my pride. I did not like having to admit I was wrong or that it was dumb to have argued with her.
Holmes just nodded and went back to his pipe. I went down the stairs and found the dog asleep where I left him. I pulled up two chairs, one to sit in and the other to rest my feet on, and watched the large dog's chest rise and fall unsteadily. I hoped Death's cold hands would not touch this creature, for the girl's sake and my own.
Author's Note: Hi everyone! Reviews and constructive criticism are mroe than welcome. I'd love to hear what your thoughts are so far. Thanks! :)