Many thanks to Lilly McMissile and B. August! :)
The Doctor and Inspector stood side by side. The Inspector nervously glancing at the Doctor from time to time, caught between remarking, and keeping himself silent. Two months after the chemistry accident, Dr. Watson's upper lip was no longer a bright tender red, and it wasn't burning the poor man either. His mustache had even began to grown back, unevenly and in patches, and some of those patches were a grayish hue rather than the sandy-blond it once was. And instead of a brilliant red, the area of flesh was now a pastel pink color.
The Doctor had reasoned to let it grown as it may, and see what extent the damage actually was. At first he attempted to bandage the area, but found quickly that people were less trustful of a Doctor with bandages around his own face, and abandoned the idea, resolved to brave it. And besides it cheered up his younger patients.
As for Lestrade, who was still wondering if he should mention the...scar(?) looked as though it was healing. Firstly, he had no idea (and wasn't going to ask) exactly what those chemicals were or what Holmes had in fact been attempting to do, and had no way to know if that the poor man's lip was healing. Second, for all he knew Watson might rather not speak of the thing.
"It's no longer burning...if that's what you're wondering Inspector..." Watson offered calmly.
"I wasn't going to mention-"
"Oh it's fine, it's fine...Did you ever patch things up with Mrs. Lestrade?"
"Yes, all is forgiven...and has he?" The Inspector motioned to the man a few paces from them, balancing himself on a tree limb in order to get a closer look at a small bird's nest, while four nervous constables waited, ready to catch him if they needed to.
"He still figures I'm angery with him." Watson answered.
"Are you?"
"No, not really, I've learned it doesn't really do any good to stay angery at Holmes for long. " Watson replied with a sigh, " And he really does feel guitly about it."
"How long are you going to-?"
"Long time."
The two smirked, as the subject of thier decotion began desending the tree. This tree was located in front of the house owned by Sir Dennis Branwill, where inside his son, daugther-in-law, and two grandchildren waited, and had discovered his body earlier that morning. Well, it was actually the man's grandduaghter, Leah Branwill, age ten, who had been sent to see if her Grandfather was dressed for breakfast, and instead had found him sprawled across his bedroom floor. What was chilling was that his left forefinger hand been cut-off, and where his left hand rested, was the word "HE" written in the old man's blood.
At the same time, Leah's twin brother, Leland, had sneaked out of his room in the early morning and was bust climbing the very tree Holmes had ventured. And it was in that bird nest young Leland found what could only be his Grandfather's finger. Holmes and the Good Doctor had been summoned nearly as soon as Lestrade had been notified.
Once Sherlock Holmes had scaled down the tree without injury, he began to asked for the finger Leland had found. It was brought forth, and by this time the Doctor and Inspector had approached him. Once in his possession, Holmes took the severed forefinger in both his hands, and proceeded to break it in half. Succeeding in doing so, one of the younger constables turning away ill, and Lestrade angrily shouting at him. Holmes reply to the shocked expressions and anger at destroying evidence, let alone and body part of another human being, was simply telling the fuming Inspector to touch the two bits that remained.
Taken aback by the inappropriate request Lestrade declared he would most certainly not, and nodding at that, Holmes snatched Lestrade's hand and placed both of the finger bits in his palm.
At first, as any decent human would do, the Inspector yelped, and then became quiet, as he began to trace over the finger with his own (at Holmes' insistence, and the Inspector's a leap of faith) and said after a pause, "It's wax?''
"Yes Lestrade, wax! A wax mold of a left forefinger." Holmes said, retrieving a notebook, and writing fervently in it. Other than going out, in his own way, to be polite to Watson, he had also taken to writing his own notes. Truthfully the Doctor him self felt a bit useless without his usual documentation, and would have told his friend-if he didn't enjoy the nights without the good old violin-at-three-in-the-morning practices.
"Have you spoken to Branwill's family yet?" Holmes asked, still writing.
"We have, while you were inspecting the body, earlier."
"And if I remember the man's clothes for the day were still on his bed?"
"Yes, as though the poor fellow was ready to start dressing."
Holmes ripped the paper from his notebook and gave it to the Inspector. "Ask his son and daughter-in-law the first two questions on that ask the children the other three."
"Why, if I may ask?" Lestrade put forth.
"Ask them these questions, and I think you'll be able to piece it together yourself." The Detective smirked at the Inspector.
Lestrade nodded, if not a bit unbelieving, and stalked into the house. Holmes looked at Watson and said, advioding his eyes and putting the notebook back in his coat pocket, "I hold faith in Lestrade, or enough to say I believe our work is fairly done here." He pursed his lips, "If you would not mind our return home."
"Oh course not, Old Boy." Watson replied.
Watson replied, as they turned to the house themselves. He did consider letting the Detective go on thinking he was angry with him , still, was a bit cruel and unkind. But then he thought of the early morning violin practices, coming home to Bakerstreet, with their rooms smelling like a roasted turnip-stuffed boot, the bullet holes in the wall, Holmes coming from some adventure with knife wounds all over him, and that one time he replaced Watson's shaving cream* with burn ointment (and then refusing to disclose exactly why he had done so), and then the good Boswell felt justified. Still, he admitted it was a bit odd, Holmes asking for his consent for this and that...but not too odd.
* I have no idea what shaving cream looked like back then, as soon what it was made of or what container it was sold in...or anything really. Anyway I searched the internet fervently and still came up empty handed, so I'm going to need you to go with it.
