It was the warm spring of 1884, and my companion Holmes and I were feeling rather low as we had been out of work for the last two weeks, the sun growing higher each day as we staggardly approached the summer months. Holmes had felt the need to occupy his time by turning to invention, while I considered getting into the fashion of the street urchins below and shed a layer or two, modesty be damned.
It was then that I heard the call bell below, and Mrs. Hudson's scolding a boy at the door. It was then I could hear the scuttling of feet as they drug a heavy object up the stairs, as I could tell by the scrape, and thump of each step.
The boy then entered our doorway, and Sherlock noticed him. I blame the heat for him not noticing him at the door below; he was frenzied trying to find relief from the dreaded humidity. I am more accustomed to it since my tour in the sands, but Holmes only (slightly) showed his discomfort to me in his subtle ways.
In an energy I hadn't seen all week, Holmes scooped up the child and thanked him for his dangerous mission, and paid him well before sending him off.
Holmes then took a rather large square package, which seemed to be dripping and dropped it in an old sailors trunk he had on the desk. Oddly enough there were holes in the lid of it.
I looked up into Holmes blue orbs, asserting my curiosity, but not really having the energy to voice it.
The man wore the excited expression of an owl awoken by cannon fire, eyes wide, hair flippant, as he composed himself into his normal boastfulness at my confusion.
"Climatisation Mécanique'' He spoke with flare, gesturing to the various clockwork and such about the desktop.
"Mechanical Air Conditioning."
"I've constructed this propeller, or blade from cheap tin, fastened it to a roller attached to this belt, pivoting on this axl so that when I wind it like so…"
The blade began to rotate at a pleasant speed creating a breeze that was almost bearable.
"But I noticed that unless I build this device to the size of a coffin, that it barely creates more wind then a simpler hand fan, so I thought to call up an old favor, and get us this."
He tore off the wrapping and revealed… A block Of Ice!
"By god Holmes, where did you find ice this time of year? The butchers would have stored it all up in basements by now."
"My dear Watson, there is a black market for everything."
"So, I rig the device into the top hole I've cut in the center of the box, and after mixing with the air given off by the ice in this watertight sailor's chest, and then channeled out by these curved pipes inserted vertically like so."
"Shall I close the windows, to keep in the cool?"
"You shall, my friend. And now I just need to finish my patent papers and we can go and be knighted once the blasted sun goes down and it's pleasant enough to stop by the palace."
And that, my friend, is how Sherlock Holmes, Invented the Air conditioner.