Notes: I've always wanted to do a 5 and 1 thing. I'm not sure why, I suppose it's just the set length and format that appeals to me. Here's hoping it hasn't gotten too overdone and trite!

"Watson," said he, "if it should ever strike you that I am getting a little over-confident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, kindly whisper 'Norbury' in my ear, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you." - YELL

I remembered the whole deal with 'Norbury' and, really, I've always sort of loved it. A magical catchphrase that can make Holmes step back for a moment and reconsider the way he's thinking or acting. Well. It's probably not so simple as that with Holmes being as stubborn as he is, and certainly, the impact of the word would lose meaning if Watson used it too often. So, here we have it. Just five times Watson said "Norbury," and one time he didn't have to.


"I seem to recall," Holmes began languidly one calm evening in front of the fire at Baker Street, "only entertaining one nonsensical adventure story in my youth."

Watson, who had himself been engrossed in one of the very stories Holmes tended to deprecate, glanced up at his companion curiously. "Oh?"

Holmes nodded thoughtfully. "I can assure you, my dear fellow, the lapse from stimulating reading material to it was only due to the discomfort of a severe cold."

Much used to Holmes' opinion on his choice of reading, Watson ignored the veiled slight and listened amiably.

"I was unwell enough indeed that my grandmother, visiting at the time, insisted she read to me."

Watson concealed a smile. Holmes very rarely discussed factors of his childhood, even so innocent an experience as this – a grandmother reading to a miserable and bored child.

Holmes leant back into his chair as he tried to remember the facts. "The particulars of the story are lost to my mind, of course, but I recall the dynamics of the tale centered upon a castaway scenario. There were three young men and they became the kings of their slight dominion."

"Ah. The Coral Island," Watson supplied fondly. He had definitely read it when he was older than Holmes, but he had enjoyed it all the same.

Thus, he was mildly bemused when Holmes shook his head quickly to disagree. "Nono, dear fellow, certainly it was Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. I believe that is the name I have heard associated with it."

There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation while Watson tried to plan what to say. "Holmes," he frowned finally, "I'm afraid you're incorrect."

The detective, so unused to the rare statement, suddenly became stony-faced.

"That is to say," Watson continued quickly, "you are correct that it was Daniel Defoe who wrote Robinson Crusoe. But the story which you have just described was actually written by R. M. Ballantyne and titled The Coral Island."

There was a thoughtful silence from Holmes. "You must be mistaken, Watson."

"Why must it be I who is mistaken?"

"Because my memory is generally most infallible."

"First of all, you said yourself you do not remember the particulars, and no wonder if you were read the tale when you were only a sick child. Secondly, why should a story about three castaways be entitled Robinson Crusoe, which is surely a singular name?"

Holmes scoffed. "Perhaps it was the name of the first child from which the perspective was based. Besides, I remember reading somewhere that it was Daniel Defoe who wrote the first story of the castaway."

"Robinsonade is the term you're looking for, Holmes, and whichever article you read seemed to be neglecting the adventures of Ulysses. Even you would remember that Homer came before Defoe."

"No need to get cheeky, Watson."

"My apologies. But you are missing the point."

"Which is?"

"Norbury."

The word produced an interesting effect on Holmes. A response died mid-word in his throat and he looked as if he'd been lightly slapped. He slumped back in his chair and glared at the doctor resignedly. Watson crossed his arms. "You are always mocking my choice of reading material. Don't you think that, having read so many of these 'nonsensical adventure stories', I might better know something on the subject?"

Holmes frowned and looked away, defeat settling uncomfortably on his shoulders. "I could have sworn that it was Robinson Crusoe," he muttered as a final, although halfhearted, effort.

"They have many of the same elements, certainly," Watson agreed, calmly picking up his book once more. "You are correct in that Defoe's novel sparked many similar such stories."

After a few sulky minutes, Holmes became quite himself again upon changing the subject to a territory in which he felt more comfortable. The two passed a relaxing evening thereafter. Several days later, however, when the pair made a stop at the bookstore, Watson was puzzled to hear a muffled curse from behind him. He eased himself around the bookshelf that separated him from his friend and grinned. Holmes started guiltily, dashing the two books back onto the shelf. Seeing that he'd been caught, Holmes sighed and folded his arms grudgingly. "You were right, of course. The Coral Island by R. M. Ballantyne."