It was a crisp September evening, in fact, it was unusually cool for this time of year, and I had accepted an invitation from Holmes to meet him for dinner. It had been some time since we had shared a meal together, as my medical practice had picked up to the point that I was engaged six days a week. Although I enjoy the challenges and the rewards that come with my chosen profession, I confess that I greatly missed the excitement of my endeavors with Holmes, and my role as his confidant, assistant, and chronicler. And truth be told, I miss the time spent with him, and despite his prickly and curious nature, he was my friend.
Lost in my thoughts, the sudden appearance of the restaurant doors before me gave me a start, but it was only momentary, as my brain worked to make sense of the distance I had walked and the rapid disappearance of time. Why does time either drag its feet like a schoolboy walking to the Headmaster or else fly recklessly away like the same boy running from his chores to join his mates in play?
Looking up at the familiar Georgian archway, wooden and glass doors, and the signature checkerboard tile pattern with accompanying chess figures, I smiled and entered Simpson's-On-The-Strand as the anticipation of seeing my friend, as well as enjoying Simpson's marvelous roast, removed any anxiety that came with the trials of a long workday.
I passed off my coat and was shown to our reserved table, as Holmes was a prisoner of habit, he required the same table whenever we dined at Simpson's. I checked my watch and saw that the time was seven minutes to seven, so I signaled the waiter and ordered a bottle of Claret, thereby improving the minutes I was compelled to wait. Holmes was notorious for his timeliness, as "a minute early is a minute wasted" was one of his mantras. The Claret arrived and was poured, and with a glass in hand, I settled in for a three-minute wait.
"Ah Watson, it is good to see you, and I judge that our evening was well scheduled as you appear to have made a sound acquaintance with that Claret," said Holmes as he walked up to the table.
Holmes slid his chair out and quickly sat down as the waiter poured him a glass of wine.
Picking up his glass, Holmes nodded at the waiter and thanked him, then turning his attention to me, held up his Claret.
"Watson here's to old partnerships."
I reciprocated his gesture and took note that he was in an energetic, chippy mood. He seemed all quick movements and vitality, and even his eyes had that glint that I had only seen when the "game was afoot."
"Excellent vintage Watson, well chosen."
"Holmes, you seem to be in excellent spirits, as your Doctor, I wish to know what you have been in contact with that has resulted in these symptoms of cheerfulness and vitality."
Holmes gave me a half-smile, snapped his menu closed, raised his hand to the waiter and placing his elbows on the table and his fingers together he announced that he had solved a most complex case that very morning, and was in fine spirits as a result.
"I am intrigued Holmes, please explain the facts of the case and your method in bringing it to a successful conclusion."
Just then the waiter approached, and Holmes took it upon himself to order for us both, which did not require a feat of deduction as we had eaten the same meal here several times in the past.
With our wine glasses charged, Holmes began to explain a most intriguing set of circumstances that were quite unlike any case in which we had previously collaborated. I was spellbound as he laid out his method for the case, step by step, with each deduction becoming more fantastic. It was only when the chef brought the silver trolly up to our table, and the aroma of roasted meat met my senses that the spell was broken. Again, for the second time that evening I had experienced the compaction of minutes into seconds, as Holmes paused his narration to allow for the carving and serving of the roast.
The serving staff completed their task, and Holmes continued his narration as I started in on the meat. I took a bite and thought a bit more salt would serve my palette better, so I looked across the table and only found a pepper shaker.
"I say, Holmes, do you see the salt shaker?"
Continuing to cut his roast, Holmes never took his eyes off his plate and replied: "I do not; however, I can locate the pepper if you should require it as a spice of choice."
"Well, it appears that our table was not assigned a salt shaker" I stated in frustration.
At that, Holmes redirected his attention from his plate to me, and stated, "yes, what do you propose happened to it?"
I was taken off guard, not expecting a trivial matter as a missing salt shaker to rise to the level of a mystery.
"I shall simply ask the waiter to bring another" I replied as my knife and fork re-started their work.
"The roast is perfectly seasoned, and your unusual proclivity to additional salt is a hindrance to your meal. Either forget the salt or else solve the mystery...I have already discovered all the facts and know the fate of said shaker."
Resigning myself to meat short on seasoning, I began to employ his method, naturally, to the best of my ability.
"The waiter would not remove the shaker from the table unless it required filling, and since he did not do so since my arrival, I conclude that the shaker was already missing when I sat down."
"Go on" he replied, sipping from his wine glass.
"Since the pepper is present, it is obvious that the waiter returned it to the table after clearing away the remnants of the previous diners and based on the quality of Simpson's staff, I can deduce that if at that time, the salt was missing, he would have retrieved another and set the table."
"Yes, that is a safe assumption" replied Holmes, and I detected a sly smile as he chewed.
"It is obvious, even a green constable could solve the mystery now," I stated as I leaned back and sat upright.
"The salt shaker has fallen on the floor." At that time, I pushed my chair back and looked under the table for the mysterious container, but alas! It was not present.
"Do you see it?" asked Holmes.
"I do not; therefore, the chance of the salt being stolen from the table is a distinct possibility."
"If the salt was stolen, then why leave the pepper?"
"Pepper is the unpopular cousin of salt" I replied matter of factly.
"Then who is our thief?" asked Holmes, who was clearly enjoying himself, much to my growing irritation.
Casting my gaze about the room, I attempted to identify a suspect for the missing salt shaker. Sitting across from us was an elderly couple who were not only well dressed, but the Madam was wearing expensive jewelry. Sitting behind Holmes was a military officer and a beautiful young woman. The manner in which they were interacting, I deduced that they were not married, but were either engaged or will be engaged to be married shortly. A vicar and his Bishop, two parents and their adult son, and two senior women - perhaps sisters. I discerned no suspects sitting in our immediate vicinity.
Tired of the game, and desperately wanting salt for the last bit of roast on my plate, I signaled for the waiter.
"Watson, have you given up the pursuit?"
"I have, it is an enigma not solved before I finish my roast."
"On the contrary Watson, I shall solve it now," and he pushed his chair back, bent down as if trying to hide under the table, and sat back upright and placed a salt shaker on the table.
"But I looked under the table," I said with disbelief.
"You did, and I asked you - do you see it? To which you replied that you did not."
We stared at each other for a moment: I was waiting for him to continue, and his silence I ascribed to his occasional need for theatrics.
"It's very simple Watson, the salt shaker was on the floor, but you did not see it because I had concealed it underneath my shoe."
I was incredulous. Holmes dangled the enjoyment of my meal on his need to prove a point!
"Holmes, I must protest, was this some kind of test? What point are you trying to make?"
"No point at all Doctor, but the facts are clear; it was an ill-gained attempt at humor. I was making a joke."
"A joke?" I exclaimed.
"More wine Doctor?" as he extended the bottle over my glass.
"Yes if you please... and would you pass the salt."