Title: Documentary Evidence
Parings: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Warnings: Established relationship and the denizens of Callhan's are all paronomasics so, of course, there will be bad puns.
Disclaimer: The original Sherlock Holmes tales belong to the estate of Arthur Conan Doyle. Since I had Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman as my mental pictures when I wrote this, Gatiss and Moffit and company own the rights for Sherlock. Callahan's Crosstime Saloon and its denizens belong to Spider Robinson. I've borrowed the characters and settings for my own and the reader's amusement. I claim no rights. I make no profit.
Chapter 1 – Riddles and Bequests
The whole thing started on a riddle night. Noah Gonzalez had been at a conference in Los Angeles and had met a kindred spirit who happened to work ordnance disposal for the Marine Corps at Camp Pendleton. Together they had come up with a set of riddles based on the names of cities in Southern California. Since most of us were only slightly familiar with California city names Mike indicated that he had a map just in case we got stuck. Collectively we decided only to refer to it as a last resort.
As usual the riddles were written on a chalkboard propped up on the bar. The clues were as follows:
1. Kris Kringle's ocular device
2. Canadian's request for a legume
3. A frozen breakfast food at the beach
4. Joan's flank
5. Exclamation upon seeing a kitchen appliance
6. A bovine in the garden
A good portion of the regulars were around that night but surprisingly Doc Webster wasn't in the group. I wondered where he was since most nights he wasn't working found him ensconced in his oversized chair at one of the center tables. The group got to work and shortly thereafter Long-Drink McGonnigle piped up with Santa Monica (Santa's Monocle) as the first answer. Of course this ruined the chances for anyone to pull off a sweep of the entire category. No real loss there. Given the puzzled faces and the suggestions for some of the clues I doubted that anyone would have been able to answer all the riddles in one fell swoop anyway. A couple folks had actually taken to scribbling words down on bar napkins in an attempt to jar things loose.
About an hour in Fast Eddie, who was not the wittiest of the regulars and only rarely participated directly, asked "Is there a city in California with O X in it?"
"O X? What clue did you get O X from Eddie?" I wondered aloud looking at the chalkboard again and then it hit me. Ox, bovine, garden, oh no. I grimaced and said "Number 6 is Ox-in-yard, Oxnard"
"Vas?" said Ralph Von Wau Wau "Vo ist that?"
Tom Hauptman, who happened to be one of the better-traveled of us all despite his 10 year stint in a Central American prison, chimed in "North of L.A. but south of Santa Barbara along the coast."
"How did it get that name I wonder?" Merry Moore's voice asked from the doorway. She and Less Glueham, her husband and partner, had apparently entered just in time to hear my pronouncement and the start of the discussion.
"Probably named for one of the founding members of the city," Tom opined. "Most cities after all are named in honor of someone or are a reference to a local landmark."
"Make's sense don'cha think," chimed in Eddie. "Even the weird ones relate to something. I mean I'd always heard that Chattanooga was a version of some native words that meant Rock House."
That was all it took and soon everyone was chiming in with the strangest city name origin stories that they knew. We went on for at least 20 minutes before someone threw the first pun which must have been some sort of record. We would have never got that far without some sort of word play if Doc Webster had been in the room. I once again wondered where he was. Usually if he had a swing or night shift at Smithtown General he would have mentioned it and he hadn't said anything last night. I needn't have worried. As if summoned by my thoughts alone the man himself wandered in. Doc was one of the few remaining physicians who made house calls to his patients when the need arose. Given the presence of his medical bag I suspected that he had stopped off to see someone. He collected a beer from Tom, sat down and joined the discussion in progress.
The evening went on. Les determined that the Joan in Joan's flank was a reference to comedienne Joan Rivers. That meant Riverside (River's side) was the answer to number 4. Eddie played a few numbers on the piano. Tom and Mike kept us all supplied with our libation de jour. All in all it was a normal night in Calahan's but I kept feeling like something was a tad bit off.
It finally dawned on me when Doc came up with the answer to riddle number 5 (Oh! Range = Orange) what the problem was. Doc was just not his usual merry self. Oh he was participating in the discussion, attempting to help solve the riddles but occasionally when the conversation lagged he would get a contemplative look on his face and stare off into space for a moment. It was obvious that his mind wasn't completely on the festivities. It most likely wasn't anything serious. We'd all seen him get this way before often as a result of a difficult medical case. He'd work whatever it was out either by himself or if he needed a group head on the thing he'd visit the fireplace.
By the time we managed to solve the last of the riddles I realized that more and more his momentary abstractions seemed to end with a sharp glance in my direction. Taking this as an invitation to collaborate I collected a God's Blessing for myself and a beer for Doc then wandered over to see what I could do to help.
"Ah, thank you Jake," he said as he accepted the beer. "I suspect you might be just the person to help me out with a second opinion."
"Sure thing," I replied "but if my medical knowledge was a book it would only be the size of an appendix."
He gave me a look but didn't take up the gauntlet. That was odd. While he is a master at word play puns, medical puns especially, are near and dear to Doc's heart and he indulges in them frequently. Instead he reached down into his medical bag and pulled what looked like a report cover that appeared to be binding a set of plasticized pages. "Actually what I need is your opinion about what I should do with this." He handed it to me.
"And this is?"
"A bequest from my recently deceased aunt Eleanor. According to her note she received it from her father upon his death and he had received it in turn from his father. The only instructions she provided was an admonition to do what I thought best in furtherance of the intent contained in the document and if no action was taken to pass it on to someone who could make that determination upon my death." He paused and took a breath, "Give it a read and you'll see my dilemma."
I took a look at the item in my hand. What I had first taken for a report cover now that I looked closely seemed more like a small leather portfolio. When I opened it up I could see that someone had taken clear plastic pockets and used them to hold the pages of a hand written manuscript. The handwriting was bold and legible unlike many old documents. I started to read.
When I had finished I looked up at Doc Webster, "You think you should return it."
He nodded, "But how to find someone who was here for less than a half hour over six months ago and hasn't been back since?"
I thought for a moment. There was a private investigator in New York who owed me a favor. He tended to get involved in highly unusual cases so I doubted he'd balk at attempting to locate someone who had last been seen six months ago on Long Island. "Let me make a phone call," I said. "I think I know someone who might be able to help with that."
In short order I had borrowed Mike's phone and was listening to said private investigator's office answering machine. I hadn't expected to get him at this time of night but I thought I'd leave a message and touch base with him the next day. When the beep came I started in "Hey Joe its Jake," was all I got out when the man himself picked up the line.
"If its Jake with you, its Jake with me" he wise-cracked at me.
I ignored it. One thing Joe Quigley likes is to be a smart ass. If you let him get it out of his system he's a good joe to have on your side. "Remember that favor you owe me?"
"Yeah."
"I'm thinking of calling it in. I need to find someone," I explained.
"Depends on how much information you have whether I can help you," was Joe's immediate reply. "What have you got to go on?"
This was going to be the tricky part. How to get Joe intrigued enough to help without turning him off all together. "Well," I started, "He's about 5'7", 60ish, stocky build, grey hair cut military short, limps slightly favoring his right leg and was shot in his left shoulder."
"Name?"
"Goes by John, most likely surname Watson," I replied.
"Last seen?"
"Here," I said knowing Joe would have figured out from the background noise that I was at Calahan's.
"When?" was the next question.
Ooh this would most likely be it. "Six months or so ago," I responded.
Joe started laughing, "So let me get this straight you want me to find a guy named John, maybe named Watson who you last saw in a bar half a year ago? Next thing you are going to tell me he hangs out with a guy named Sherlock!"
I thought for a moment about how to respond. If what Doc Webster had said when the pair of them had left the bar was true then…well in for a penny, "Who plays the violin."
There was dead silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "Really?"
"Really!" Then I added, "He's quite good."
Joe was silent for a bit more then asked, "So why do you want to locate this Watson guy?"
"We think we might have found something that belongs to him," I responded truthfully.
"Let me see what I can do. I'll call you in a couple days or so."
He hung up without saying anything else. I was surprised. I fully had expected him make a comment that this sort of search had a very low chance of success. Puzzled I returned to Doc Webster and filled him in about what I had done.
"Well I guess it's a place to start," he remarked looking skeptical.
"If anyone can find him with the amount of information we have its Joe Quigley," I hastened to reassure him.
"Hmm" was the Doc's only response.
I decided that I'd better re-read the manuscript just in case Joe wanted any details about what we had found. "Do you mind if I read this again?" I asked.
"Go ahead," the Doc replied. "In fact, why don't you keep it for now since Mr. Quigley might have some questions about it," he added clearly thinking along the same lines I had been.
That settled I opened the binder again and began to read.
Author's Note: Yes gentle readers, I'm leaving you with riddles 2 and 3 to solve. I'll post the answers with the author's notes on the last chapter unless someone guesses correctly first.
Thank you Guy for the typo catch.