The following story is with thanks to Lilly McMissile, who provided me with this prompt: "Watson decides to probe into Holmes' past, hopefully without being pummeled to death."

Word Count: 677 words.

Due to my old wounds, I had spent an uncomfortable night in my bed, trying in vain to sleep and failing miserably to do so until the early hours of the morning. I eventually awoke, feeling exhausted and irritable, at just after ten AM and hastily dressed before descending the stairs to enter the sitting room. I found it deserted, with the cold remains of the breakfast of my companion, Sherlock Holmes, as the only immediate indication that he had risen before me.

As I limped toward my chair beside the hearth I noticed a jumble of papers upon the sofa and I picked one up and glanced over it. The paper proved to be a document written in the familiar scrawl of my friend and, though I did not mean to pry, I started to read. It was part of an account from one of his earlier cases; one that he had faced alone, as it was long before my time. Having read that through I turned my efforts to finding the page corresponding with it; it was then that I discovered something that I was particularly interested in. I had stumbled upon a section of what my friend referred to as the 'Singular Affair of the Aluminium Crutch'; a tale which he had alluded to but never divulged to me. I attempted to find the rest of it, sorting the other documents as I did so.

"Watson!"

I jerked awake suddenly at the angry bellow of my companion. I had fallen asleep with one of Holmes' papers still clasped in my hands.

"What the deuce do you think you are doing?" he demanded in a fit of temper. "If I wished for you to probe into my affairs I would have told you as much!"

I relinquished the document and stood slowly. "I am sorry Holmes," I began as I took to my armchair. The fire had gone out while I slept and I was cold, the temperature of the room causing my wounds to pain me all the more.

"And what is the good of that?" he demanded of me bitterly as he watched me poke the fire back into life. "Really Watson! You disappoint me. I had expected far better of you."

I was deeply hurt by his words and could not understand his reaction. Granted, I had read some of his documents without his permission, but they had been left strewn all over our sitting room.

"You have included me in your cases Holmes; you know that you can rely upon my discretion."

"Pah!" he snorted and threw himself into his chair. "You call prying into my past being discreet, do you? You truly have some rather funny ideas!"

"I did not mean to pry old fellow," I assured him. "At first, I did not quite know what I was reading..."

He glared at me. "And when you did know you continued to read anyway."

I ran a hand over my face wearily. "For the most part, I only read the titles or dates so that I could put your papers into some sort of order. I must admit though, that I could not resist reading about the 'Singular Affair of the Aluminium Crutch'..."

"Had I wanted you to read it I should have voiced my permission."

"Yes; you have made that quite clear Holmes," said I.

He snorted again, took up the papers and tossed them somewhat haphazardly into the box that he had clearly left discarded under the sofa. With another glare, he locked his box and took it back through to his bedroom. I heard him set it down with a bang.

"There," Holmes snapped as he returned and began to load a pipe. He threw himself back into his chair and smoked without another word.

He refused to speak to me for the remainder of the day. I have no idea at all why my actions should have vexed him so, but I shall be sure to leave anything of his exactly as it is in the future.