I really like short cases that are less than 5000 words, so I thought I'd write one. Reviews would be great. Hope you enjoy the first chapter in which Holmes goes to the club.
I realised, one day, with some incredulity, that the friendship between the well-known detective Sherlock Holmes and I derived only from solving crimes which to us seemed more like a past time rather than a real occupation. Recalling the mind all the times we have been together, I dare say 70 percent was spent in pursuit of answers to some mystifying case. The other 20 was spent on rainy, dark nights, where Holmes and I would sit by the fireplace humming our favourite songs. The remaining 10 was spent eating at the breakfast table or such where Holmes would eat for the true necessity of it, and regarded it as an inconvenience that bored the mind. The little things that fitted the rest of the fraction of a percentage was going to concerts to the delight of my friend who would wave a long finger as if conducting to the music and it was to my dismay as I was doomed to spend a fidgety hour where clapping was my only participation.
These deductions lead me to another rather down casting conclusion of the limits of Sherlock Holmes. It came to me, that the general knowledge of Holmes is as narrow as a schoolboy. As brilliant a mind as he may have, his interests are rarely focused on anything other than cases to satisfy his mind. If one were to ask him of the date of the fall of Rome, then I have no doubt he would not be able to answer. Though he is at the peak of his profession.
Sherlock Holmes' brain, is only consisted of information and facts he finds useful. For example, one would find, brands of perform matching to their smells and one would certainly not find, facts of ancient history as basic as they may be. It was on a rather drab morning that I suggested at the breakfast table of some more social activity than he would normally allow.
"Well, Holmes." I asked over the newspaper. "What do you make of it?"
"That is usually what you ask me after the telling of a new case." He replied dryly. I could see he was not exactly jumping for joy and the idea.
"Not this time, you need to get out more. The last time ventured past the newspaper boy across from the street was almost a month ago."
"My dear fellow, I've told you that I do not go out for cases that only have a six or lower level of perplexity, and the recent cases have been rather predictable."
"Well, they were to you, I was clueless."
"You see, you just don't observe."
I delivered my offer once again, "But Holmes, are you coming to my club or shall I go alone as the lonely doctor with no company."
"Oh, alright, Watson, you have my consent."
I changed into my dinner jacket, soon after a shadow like a veil drifted over London. It was well past six, a good time as any to be heading down to the club. I was ripe with anticipation to introduce the daily activity of the average Londoner to my most unrelatable friend. At the doorstep I ventured enough to disturb the work of Holmes with a shout to inform my absence of my presence.
"Holmes? Are you there? " No answer. "Holmes, would you mind so much to come up the stairs?"
A muffled voice sounded from the basement. "Watson, this is quite inconvenient. I'm in the middle of something."
"You will be there at the club later, will you? Holmes? Answer me, will you?"
"Yes, yes." Came a rushed reply. "You head along first."
I took my duffle coat off of the coat stand and pull it over my dinner jacket. Briskly stepping into the street, I turned my coat collar up as a shield against the wind.
My feet carried me over streets and stopped in front of a rather grand front door which atop sat a wooden sign that read "The Red Lion's" I had come the previous night and stepped into the warmth the club offered.
Larry stood behind the counter and nodded at my arrival. A few men I did not recognize sat in a far corner, two men in their old age played chess on glasses of brandy. I naturally thought it was a bit strong for two old men. More members sat scattered and blended into the background. I strode across to the bar and ordered a gin.
The wait for Holmes was anything but short and eventful as I waited, consuming drinks until Larry started ask if I needed the lavatories. I ventured towards a few chess matches but found no entertainment there.
On my fifth glass, I finally heard the familiar voice of Holmes, "Had enough yet?"
I turned around and spotted a dishevelled Holmes with unruly hair and a ruffled dinner jacket.
"Where've you been?" I complained.
"On a tedious and infuriating tour around London to look for this." He waved an arm across the room.
"To find one of the most well known clubs in London." I said skeptically, "Really Holmes, you only had to ask someone, anyone."
"Dear Watson, I was sure to find it myself. I'm here, am I not?"
"After an hour." I grumbled "Sometimes, Holmes, you can be quite resourceful, but other times," I trailed off my sentence.
"Anyhow, Watson, my deductions tell me that you are not pleased by my tardiness so I promise my dear fellow, that I will make it up to you by staying at the club with you till your departure."
"That is thoughtful, Holmes, but I do not intend to leave until you expand your very limited coterie of mostly members of Scotland."
Sorry if the Sherlock Holmes in this story sounds more conceited than in Canon Doyle's stories. But watching Sherlock... I'll try to make him less arrogant in the next chapter.