"Imperturbable"

Chapter 1

The loud crash of breaking glass. I sighed, folding up my paper, and forced myself up again. It was not the first time, and I doubted that it would be the last.

Holmes' door was unlocked – of course it was – and I let myself in. He did not acknowledge my entrance, nor did I expect him to. In fact, I half-expected him to be glaring at me; if he could that is.

I began picking up the shards of glass – this one was so shattered that I could scarcely tell what it was. Of course, using the deduction skills that I had picked up, I determined from the shape of the indent in the wall, the dark liquid that trailed down from said indentation onto the floor with the shards, and the carefully hand-painted design on said shards, that it had been one of Mrs Hudson's favourite teacups. The poor woman. As if his incredible untidiness, his addiction to music at strange hours, his occasional revolver practice within doors, and his weird and often malodorous scientific experiments weren't enough, now this was added to the list.

For a moment, I contemplated inquiring as to what would posses him to batter the innocent piece of glassware in such a way. But, I thought it might be better not to. Holmes was bad enough when he was in one of these moods under normal circumstances. And, while such maltreatment of our landlady's teacups certainly wasn't called for, his mood was justified.

How strange it was to see my friend in good spirits. After slaving over the same case for the last two and a half weeks, I had begun to miss that smile that so rarely graced Holmes' visage. Finally, though, a clue showed up, a lead went through, and here we were, barely a metre behind our villain!

Our feet seemed to fly over the stone streets, and my adrenaline levels just seemed to increase with each step. Still, the ache in my leg made the idea of sitting in front of the fire that evening while writing up the case seem all the more desirable.

Holmes seemed to notice that I was slowing down. He continued at the same pace, but a look of concern flashed across his features as he kept giving me worried glances.

"Go on ahead, old boy; I'll catch up to you before Lestrade." He only offered a nod in return as he sped up, and I couldn't help but wonder where all that energy came from, considering the lack of food and sleep my friend had had over the last week or so.

Holmes had gotten quite far ahead of me in a matter of minutes, and I could clearly see him closing in on the subject, Victor Rollins.

What happened next seemed to happen in slow motion.

I saw Holmes tackle the man to the ground.

I saw the two fight for dominance.

I saw the man pull his gun.

I saw the man pull his trigger.

Then everything got much faster.

Holmes screamed, rolling off of the man who proceeded to haul himself up and attempt to flee. My instincts as a service man immediately kicked in. Without thinking, my revolver was in my hand, and a bullet was lodged in Rollins' left leg before I realized that I had pulled the trigger.

Lestrade would have heard the multiple gunshots and come rushing over. The suspect would not be going anywhere far anytime soon, Scotland Yard would have no trouble apprehending him.

Even so, my attention was far away from our criminal and the local law enforcement. I was at Holmes' side as fast as my leg would allow, ignoring the incessant throbbing radiating throughout. He was curled away from me, hands pressed to his face. I lay him flat, forcing away the shield of his hands. I breathed a sigh of relief; the bullet had missed. There was a series of burns along the left side of his face, but they would heal, and I didn't think there would be much scarring, if any at all.

Everything was okay.

"Watson..."

Or so I thought.

"I...I can't see..."