A/N I wrote this for Sherlockology's Empty House competition two years ago but am only posting it now. The competition was at the same time as the 100th anniversary of the Titanic's sinking, and I'm an amateur Titanic historian as well as a Sherlock Holmes fan. I couldn't resist.

Holmes and I were on our way to visit our former colonies across the Atlantic, he as consultant in the murder of a prominent New York City politician, I as his biographer and companion. He and I saw each other rarely since his retirement to Sussex, and I was looking forward to both the voyage and the time spent in the United States, a country I had never visited but which was becoming so important to the future of our world. In addition, when Holmes mentioned he had arranged for us to sail in second class on Titanic's maiden voyage, I found myself captivated by the great ship. Not only was she the largest ship yet built, it was said that she was practically unsinkable, although when I mentioned this to Holmes he only laughed derisively, saying that no machine made of iron and steel could be immune to the elements.

I was reminded of his comment as I woke in the middle of that cold Sunday night with an odd feeling that something was wrong. I lay in my cabin for several minutes, trying to determine what was disturbing me. Finally I realized that the engines, which had been running with a comforting hum for the past five days, had stopped. Knowing we were not due to arrive in New York until Wednesday, I arose and began to dress. Instincts, both from my days as a solider and from many years as Sherlock Holmes's biographer, told me that I should not ignore this situation. I dressed quickly and went looking for Holmes. Upon entering his cabin, I found him dressed as well and completely calm.

"You have noticed the engines have stopped," I said to him.

"Indeed I have, Watson. A strange thing to happen when we are not due near land for another four days," my friend answered. "I wonder if you would be good enough to find a steward and find out what is the matter."

I went into the corridor to find several of our neighbors entering the corridor, evidently for the same reason. Some were fully dressed; others had coats thrown over their nightclothes. "Excuse me," I said as I saw a steward pass by, "But could you tell me why the engines have stopped?"

"I suspect it's nothing much, sir. We've likely dropped a propeller blade," the man answered before going on his way. His answer seemed to reassure many of those in the corridor, for they went back into their cabins, but when I reported this response to Holmes, he insisted on going in search of an officer. As we headed up the stairs, I noticed something odd. The stairs were slightly off balance, as if they were tipping too far forward.

"Holmes," I said, "The stairs feel unbalanced."

Holmes looked back at me, and his normally reticent features were furrowed with concern, "Come, Watson. I suspect there is not a moment to lose."

Upon reaching the boat deck, the sharpness of the cold took my breath away. There was no moon, and the sky was ablaze with stars, many more than I was accustomed to through the fog and haze of London. There were several groups of people about, passengers clustered together, crew members bustling around and officers hurrying to and fro. As I glanced around, I noticed the deck was covered in ice of varying sizes and shapes. "I believe the ship has hit an iceberg," Holmes said to me in a tone of mild interest.

It seemed a sound deduction to me, as I walked among the passengers, catching snippets of conversation, "Did you see it?" "They said it was almost a hundred feet tall." It was then that a cacophony of noise began to sound from the funnels, drowning out all conversation. Holmes and I ambled among the passengers on deck for a time, watching the busyness of it all. Officers continued to pass by, once we even saw the captain, followed by a man wearing only an overcoat over his pajamas: both looked tense, and Holmes and I glanced at each other. Surely this could not be overly serious?

I had always been susceptible to cold, ever since receiving my leg wound at Maiwand, and the bitter temperatures soon brought out my slight limp. Holmes slipped his arm through mine without a word and we turned toward the ship's gymnasium, where many of the passengers had already gathered. I recognized several from the society pages of the newspapers; John Jacob Astor, known to be the wealthiest man on the ship, was seated on one of the mechanical camels, showing his young wife what was inside the lifebelts. "Holmes," I said, suddenly reminded, "We left our lifebelts in our cabins."

"It cannot as serious as all that, Watson!" Holmes admonished me, surprise lighting up his sharp eyes. "You ought to know by now not to theorize before all the facts are known."

"All the same, it is a useful precaution to take," I answered, somewhat irritated at this cavalier attitude. Preparation for any situation is a central aspect of a soldier's life, and surely the captain would not look so tense if nothing was the matter. But perhaps Holmes was right and the problem was a minor one. The atmosphere within the gymnasium was anything but somber; in fact, it was more akin to a social gathering as many of the first class passengers gathered together and began speculating as to the cause of the delay. Holmes passed the time by deducing some of them for me; this was an old pastime of his, but I could tell he was barely concentrating on his observations tonight.

I glanced at my watch; it was now 12:15, and we could hear cheerful music coming from the boat deck; glancing out the window, I could see the band had come outside and was playing for the groups of passengers still gathered around the lifeboats. It was all cheerful music, as if this was an ordinary evening, and I saw Holmes tilt his head to one side, judging their violinist. "This new style is slightly too jaunty for my taste," he pronounced.

I chuckled, "You are too set in your ways, Holmes. I find it light, and considerably more enjoyable than some of the more serious compositions I've heard." Holmes appeared about to launch into a debate of musical compositions, which no doubt would have been enlightening, but he first happened to glance out the gymnasium windows and quietly called my attention to what he'd seen. The officers were beginning to uncover the lifeboats. We looked at each other and, silently agreeing, went back to our cabins and retrieved our lifebelts.