A/N: If anyone has been waiting for an update, I'm terribly sorry. Life has an annoying way of butting writing out of the way.

Psst, this is set in somewhere near 1899, so let's say it was before CHAS, though that doesn't have too much bearing on the story.


Holmes

I checked my pocket watch, and finding the morning breathing its last gasps, turned to Watson.

"I propose luncheon at Claridge's* if you have the time to spare, Watson."

"Certainly.'

We called a cab and made our way to Brook Street, where the restaurant was located. The ride was spent in silence, Watson catching up on his notes for the case in that notebook he always kept in his pocket and I pondering the case.

The threads were coming together. We now had a culprit, a culprit with a motive. Cole's participation in this fiasco fit the facts snuggly. There was one thing that puzzled me- the murdering of the sailor. We knew Cole had killed Glover out of jealousy and bitter resentment, but what qualms would he have with this man of a much lower class? It was an inquiry that would take some footwork.

Hardly any time had passed before we had arrived. Watson hopped out and beckoned me.

"Come on, old boy, I'm famished."

I made a skeptical face, for I myself was not hungry at all, and it really hadn't been that long since we'd last eaten. Well, it had been at breakfast. I suppose the fellow did have reason to be hungry after all.

Watson strutted in and claimed us a table by the window. I sat and waited for him to order. To my surprise he order two dishes.

"At this rate you'll have Mrs. Watson letting out your trousers a mile a minute."

He looked up with a small smile. "One's for you, Holmes."

I spluttered about for a minute before resuming my usual countenance and settling myself with a dignified "humph".

We conversed about all kinds of useless, albeit interesting things until our entrees came. Watson shoveled a few bites into his mouth eagerly. I nibbled and pushed the food around on the plate, knowing it was better to appear hungry that face Watson's wrath.

Soon he brought the case up again. "What do you propose to do next?"

I took a sip of my wine and whirled it about. He looked on eagerly. I really could never resist an opportunity to build up tension.

"The selection of that sailor as one of the victims still perturbs me. I'm going to break into Cole's office and see if I might be able to find some hint of why he was killed. I believe it may be the key to proving Cole's guilt."

Watson looked at me dubiously. "Break in? I am all for justice, Holmes, but this is an outright felony. What if you find nothing?"

"I am sure I will find something of importance."

"What, then, if you are caught? It would ruin you career, Holmes."

I paused for a moment. Failure would indeed ruin my career, but success would only bolster it more. It was risky, but so were many of the other things I did in my unique profession.

"It will be done, Watson, with your consent or not " I retorted firmly. "Tonight." I added, as the final word.

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back. "Fine. When do we leave?"

I furrowed my brows. "You are not coming."

He opened his eyes and leaned forward, alert. "Why not?"

I frowned. "You can be of no help to me." This was an outright lie, and I expect he knew it, for he scoffed loudly at my words. Undoubtedly he could be great help to me, but it was dangerous enough with one of us, and I would certainly be the one taking the risk, not him.

"I'm coming, Holmes, whether I can be of help to you or not. I'm sure you could use a lookout, anyway."

I nearly refused once again, but his determined gaze choked off my words and shoved them back down my throat, resulting in a little strangled cough.

"Fine." I conceded. "You may come, but by God be careful."

"I always am."

-----

We spend the rest of the afternoon ambling around the town, wandering into any shops that caught Watson's attention. We went into quite a few bookstores, where he would become engrossed in some romantic novel for a good while and I would be left to occupy myself inside the store.

It was in this way that I found the selection (a rather large one, I might add) of Watson's accounts of our cases. I picked up one in interest, examining the layout and reading the first few sentences, which were not too deplorable.

I flipped through the pamphlet, now very intrigued, and came upon a odious illustration** of what I suppose was a likeliness of Watson and I, though the fellow who had done it had certainly never seen either of us. I snorted in contempt, drawing an odd glance from the fellow next to me. He started, crying out softly, for I suppose he recognized me, though I don't see how if he was drawing from the picture.

I hurried away as fast as I could, gathering up Watson and pulling him from the store where he gave an indignant cry.

"What was that all about, Holmes?"

I fabricated on the spot. "We're done with that store, I think."

Thankfully, no further mishaps occurred and we made it safely to nightfall. Watson had sent his wife a telegram that he had 'thrown in his lot' with me, and we grabbed a quick dinner at the nearest café before hailing a cab to the premises of McDermott & Cole.

"All right, Watson, I've had some considerable experience with this sort of thing-"

"Some considerable experience!" He cried, eyes widening. "You don't mean-"

"I mean with picking locks, Watson." He visibly relaxed. The poor fellow was really not cut out for breaking the law. He was much too honest.

"We'll go through a back door." I continued. "And make our way up to Cole's office, where we'll find whatever evidence of his guilt that we can, and then go out the way we came."

"What if we meet someone?"

"I don't doubt we shall have much trouble overtaking them."

He straightened up, squaring his shoulders. "I'm with you, Holmes."

Good old Watson.

"I think that we will have quite the success, then."


A/N: If that one part seems very similar to CHAS, that's because it is. One of my favorite moments in the canon is when Watson says, "When do we leave?" and Holmes says, "You're not coming", then the following conversation. It makes me very happy.

*Real restaurant on Brook Street (now Swains Lane), and rather high up.

**If you want to see that odious picture (it really looks nothing like them, or at least in my mind), just Google search "Sherlock Holmes D.H. Friston" on images. It's got Lestrade and Gregson in it as well. It was A Study in Scarlet that Holmes picked up.