A/N: Thanks again to all who support this story.

Disclaimer: Still not mine. Just having fun...no profits...etc...

The Adventure of the Country Birthday - 9

"Still investigating?" asked the young man. "I thought you Londoners were smarter than that. You don't seem all that smart after all."

I decided I didn't like Alec Cunningham.

"Well, give us a little time," said Sherlock with a friendly smile.

I was very surprised, I was expecting Sherlock to say something to cut him down.

"I suppose you'll need lots of time," replied Alec, "you don't have anything to go on."

The Inspector spoke up, "Well, we have - oh my God! Mr. Holmes!"

Sherlock had taken a few staggering steps, groaned, then collapsed on the ground in a crumpled heap.

I was instantly by his side, checking his pulse and respiration, carefully running my hands over him, checking for injuries from the fall. Almost instantly, he began to come around.

"John," he said quietly, and blinked up at me.

"Sherlock, are you in any pain?"

"No, please help me up."

"Can we take him inside?" I asked.

"Of course, please..." Mr. Cunningham ushered us into the kitchen and we got Sherlock into a large chair.

His pulse was steady and strong, and he apparently had not hit his head in the fall. He leaned back in the chair and breathed deeply for a few minutes. I was angry at myself for letting him work so hard while he was still weak. He was clearly not strong enough to be resuming his normal activities.

Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at the five of us, clearly embarrassed.

"I am sorry, Dr. Watson can tell you that I have just recovered from a serious illness," he explained. "I forgot that I still don't have my full strength back."

"Do you want us to drive you home?" asked Mr. Cunningham.

Sherlock sighed, "Well, since I'm here, there is something that I want to check. We can easily verify it."

"What is it?"

"Well, I've been wondering if it's possible that your friend William arrived after the burglar entered the house. You've taken it for granted that even though the door had been forced open that the robber never got in."

Mr. Cunningham replied, "It's obvious that he never got in. My son Alec had not gone to bed yet, and he would have heard anyone moving inside the house."

"Where was he sitting?"

"I was sitting smoking in my bedroom," said Alec.

"Which window is that?"

"The last one on the left, next to my father's."

"Both of you had your lights on?"

"Yes."

"That seems strange," said Sherlock with a smile. "Why would a burglar with previous experience break into a house when he could see from the lights that two of the family were still awake?"

"He must have been very confident in his abilities," said Mr. Cunningham.

Alec chimed in, "Well of course the case is strange, otherwise we wouldn't be asking you for help explaining it. But your idea that the burglar had robbed the house before William tackled him is silly. We would have found the place ransacked and noticed the items he'd taken were missing."

"It depends on what the things were," said Sherlock. "This burglar is a very strange man with unique tastes. Look at the things he took from Acton's: the Sellotape, a letter opener, an old computer and other junk."

"Well, we need your help, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Cunningham. "If you and the Inspector suggest anything we will do it."

"First of all," said Sherlock, "I suggest you offer a reward - coming from yourself because it will take a while for the officials would process something like that. But the sooner you make the offer the more likely it is that someone would come forward with information. I have written up a possible offer to submit to the local paper. If you sign it I will turn it in to them. I think five thousand pounds would be enough."

"I'd be happy to offer fifty thousand," said Mr. Cunningham.

He took the form and pen that Sherlock handed to him.

"You've made a mistake, though," he added, as he read the document.

"I wrote it in a hurry," Sherlock admitted.

"You wrote that the attempted burglary was at a quarter to one, but it was a quarter to twelve."

I felt embarrassed for Sherlock because I knew that he would be upset at himself for the slip up. He always was meticulous about getting facts correct, but apparently his recent breakdown was still affecting him mentally as well as physically.

Alec Cunningham broke out in a mocking laugh and the Inspector raised his eyebrows at Sherlock, who looked at his feet, clearly embarrassed. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to give Alec the punch in the nose I felt he deserved. Mr. Cunningham corrected the mistake on the form and handed the paper back to Sherlock.

"Have it published as soon as possible," he said. "I think it's an excellent idea."

Sherlock tucked the paper carefully away in his jacket.

"I'm feeling much better now," he said, "I think it would be a good idea if we go through the house together and make sure that this strange burglar did not actually steal anything."

The others agreed, but I said nothing because I wanted Sherlock to stop and rest. I gave him a stern look, and he responded with a pleading one. I shrugged slightly, and frowned again, indicating I was willing to go along for now, but was not pleased.

The first thing Sherlock did was to study the door that had been forced open. It was clearly evident that a chisel or large knife had forced the lock back, the marks in the wood were very clear.

"You don't use dead-bolts?" asked Sherlock.

"We've never thought about it before, it's never been an issue."

"You don't have a dog?"

"No."

"Do you have a live-in housekeeper?"

"Yes."

"What time does she go to bed?"

"About ten."

"Was it usual for William to come to visit late at night?"

"Sometimes, but we weren't expecting him that night."

"Hmmm...I wonder why he was coming to see you on that particular night. Well, I'm done here, if you don't mind, I'd like to see the rest of the house Mr. Cunningham."

We went up the back staircase to the first floor of the house where we came out on the landing opposite to the more ornamental front staircase that led up from the front hall. On the landing were the doorways to the sitting-room and several bedrooms, including Mr. Cunningham's and his son's. Sherlock was walking slowly, mentally noting the architecture of the house. I could tell that he was suppressing his excitement. He obviously felt that he was close to a conclusion.

Mr. Cunningham began to complain, "Mr. Holmes, I think this is unnecessary. That is my room at the end of the stairs, and my son's is the one after it. In your judgment is it really possible that the thief could've come up here without us noticing?"

"I think you are wandering a bit from the trail," said Alec with a vicious smile. I again suppressed an urge to hit him.

"Please, just humor me a bit more. I'd like to see the view from the windows of the bedrooms. This is your son's room?" Sherlock pushed open the door.

"This is where he sat smoking when the incident happened?"

Sherlock walked around the room, looking out the window.

"I hope you are satisfied now?" asked Mr. Cunningham grumpily.

"Thank you, I've seen all I need to here. Now for your room?"

Mr. Cunningham shrugged his shoulders and led us into his bedroom which was fairly plain and looked like a typical bedroom. As we all headed for the window Sherlock delayed until he and I were behind the group. Near the bed was a small table where there was an arrangement of flowers (probably taken from the beautiful garden outside) in a glass vase with ornamental marbles at the bottom. As he walked by it Sherlock leaned over and knocked the table over. The glass vase smashed into pieces and the marbles rolled all around the room.

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed, "look at the mess you've made!"

I was confused, but immediately knelt down and picked up the table and then began to pick up the pieces of glass and nearby marbles. I could see that for some reason Sherlock wanted me to take the blame for what he had done.

"Mr. Cunningham," I said, "I'm so sorry!" I sounded as shaken as I felt.

The others joined in the hunt for the glass shards, flowers, and marbles scattered all around the floor.

After a few minutes, the Inspector exclaimed, "Where's Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock was missing from the room.

"Wait here," Alec told us. "I think he's crazy. Come with me, dad and let's see where he went!"

They ran out leaving the Inspector, the Colonel, and me staring at each other.

"I think I agree with Alec," said the Inspector. "It might be that he isn't well because it seems - "

He was interrupted by a frantic cry from Sherlock, "Help! Help! JOHN!"

And then there was abrupt, ominous silence.

TBC...