As always, bow to the almighty Med_cat
I had spent three weeks out of the country, residing with an acquaintance from my days in the army, in the south of France. The time had been enjoyable, and I returned to my London duties far more relaxed than when I'd left. Holmes had been unreasonable for months when I had taken my leave; constantly snapping at myself or the landlady, scraping at the violin for hours on end. A case had Holmes in its grasp, and it had been driving me mad, frazzling my nerves.
It was when I had come down with the flu that I had to finally leave our rooms at Baker Street, for it was quite impossible to get any rest within those walls. It took mere days to arrange the trip; Michael, my acquaintance, had been attempting to convince me to join him for almost a year. Upon my return, I expected Holmes to have solved the case or to have burned down all of Baker Street.
I assumed that since the whole of Baker Street was still intact, Holmes had finished the case without me. I removed my bags from the hansom and mounted the stairs quickly, happy to be home. You all can imagine how surprised I was when, upon entering our sitting room, I found Holmes covered in kittens.
A great number of kittens.
"Holmes?" I asked warily.
"Oh, welcome home, dear fellow!" Holmes rolled to his feet, dislodging several of the small mammals. "I assume you wish to know where these creatures came from?"
"You needn't say 'assume', Holmes, when you know." I picked my way carefully across the room, there was at least thirty kittens wandering the floor. "Are they what your case was about?"
"Indeed, Watson. These felines are from twenty different households, and are all brothers, sisters, or cousins."
"If I may, is this similar to "The Blue Carbuncle"?"
"Correct! It seems the criminal is becoming predictable."
"Holmes," I chuckled, "you are, of course, aware of the kitten on your head?"
"Of course, old boy, where else would it be?"