"Watson? Watson!" I heard the door slam downstairs, and the excited voice of Sherlock Holmes echoed up to our shared living quarters. I paid it no heed; I supposed he had just discovered the vital clue to some case he was currently working on.

"Watson you must come and see this wonderful thing I've found!" He called up to me.

I sunk deeper into my armchair and hid behind my newspaper. I wasn't about to let one of Holmes's insane discoveries get in the way of my relaxing afternoon. "I'm busy Holmes." I called back. "Whatever it is you want to show me, you can bring it up here."

"Well that's going to be something of a challenge." I heard my friend comment, though it sounded as if he were speaking more to himself than to me. All went silent for a few moments, and I resumed my reading.

Presently I heard a loud bump, followed by several similar noises, each one slightly louder than the one before. Holmes's grunting could be heard intermittently, and I realized he was dragging something heavy up the stairs.

The grunting and thumping continued for nearly ten minutes and my curiosity almost got the better of me, but I remained firmly planted in my armchair. Finally the noise stopped, and when it did not start back up again I presumed my companion had finally reached the landing. I heard him panting for breath just outside the door.

"All right then," I heard him say. "There you go, my good fellow. We're really going to have to do something about this though. I can't lug you up and down these stairs all the time."

Who the blazes was he talking to?

"Watson!" he called again. The door swung open and my friend stepped through.

I sprang from my chair with a start. "Good heavens Holmes, what is that!"

For following behind Holmes was the most extraordinary thing—for lack of a better word—that I had ever seen in my life. It resembled a machine, yet it seemed to move of its own free will. Its coloring was like copper or gold, I couldn't quite decide which. Its upper half consisted of a rather odd assortment of devices, while the bottom half was affixed with half-spherical shaped knobs. It trundled into the room and stopped beside my comrade.

I inched forward, cautiously approaching the odd machine. "Why Holmes, it's an automaton!" I exclaimed.

"It's much more than that, my dear Watson." Holmes responded. A spark of excitement twinkled in his usually cold gray eyes. "It can think! It can think for itself, but it also responds to orders. Observe." He turned to the automaton. "Creature," He addressed it. A single black sphere that could have been an eye was attached to a metal rod protruding from the machine's domed head. The head swiveled, and the rod moved upwards so that the black sphere was at eye level with Holmes. "Turn round in a circle." My friend ordered. The machine complied, turning smoothly in a 360 degree circle. "Stop." Holmes ordered. It stopped.

I took a step back, alarmed. "What kind of machine can do that?" I asked, astonished. "Where did it come from?"

"I confess I'm at something of a loss to figure it out." Holmes admitted. "But let us look at the facts and try to deduce the rest from there. Now, I found this machine creature in an alleyway a few miles from here. It told me it was lost—"

"Wait," I interrupted. "It told you? It can speak?"

"Yes, quite well in fact." Holmes replied casually, as if machines that could think and speak and move freely were a normal part of life. "Hasn't said much since we got back though." He added, glancing over his shoulder at the machine. He shrugged. "Maybe it's tired. Anyhow, it told me it was lost, but it seemed unsure of where it originally came from."

"Undoubtedly it is the work of some mad scientist." I suggested. "Some inventor who is far ahead of his time."

"Yes, perhaps." Holmes mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Anyhow, it also informed me that its primary purpose is to serve humanity." he grinned. "And seeing as Mrs. Hudson is out of town for the week, I supposed it could be our housekeeper until she returns."

"That thing, our housekeeper!" I stared at my companion. "Holmes, have you gone mad?"

"Not at all, my dear Watson." Holmes replied with a laugh. "It will also give me the opportunity to study it, and perhaps deduce where it comes from."

I was a little dubious. "What exactly does it do?" I inquired skeptically.

"Well," Holmes said, examining the machine. "Judging by the frontal fixtures, it seems as though it may have some skills in plumbing, as well as cooking."

My friend noticed my wary expression. "It assures me that it is capable of a number of tasks."

"Can it make a cup of tea?" I asked.

"Yes."

I gave a start as a sharp mechanical voice emanated from the machine.

"I. Am. Quite. Ca-pa-ble. Of. Ma-king. Teaaa!"