From Mrs. Pencil: Watson takes up cycling.
"Holmes!"
The cry sounded from beneath the window.
Sherlock Holmes did not lift his head from his pillow. He'd been out late on a case the previous night. Watson had declined to help, citing holiday time with his new wife as a valid excuse.
As Holmes had reminded him, the holidays spanned over a month.
Still, he'd found himself chasing after a mysterious killer on his own.
From the streets, the call came again. "Holmes!"
It dragged as if the speaker were in motion. Groaning, Holmes pulled himself from his covers and peered through the glass.
He blinked thrice to clear his eyes, frowning.
"Holmes! I know you're up there!"
The sun was already high in the sky, so there was no chance of his mis-seeing, but on the street below, Holmes could have sworn he saw Watson… on a bicycle.
"Mrs. Hudson!" Watson tried again.
Holmes pushed the window open. "What the devil are you about?"
"I have a lead on the case!" Watson called. "Come down!"
Yawning, Holmes straightened his clothes and made his way down to the front step. Watson passed him. "The killer is French!"
Holmes stood and stared as Watson turned and started back.
"Why do you say so?" He asked.
Panting, Watson said, "Mary spent two years in France as a girl. I described the killer's—"
He passed by and Holmes waited until he'd circled round again.
"The killer's mannerisms and habits to her, and she is quite…" He panted again, already halfway down the street. "Certain!"
To save time, Holmes hopped to his feet and ran beside the doctor. "Watson, have you gone mad?"
Watson slowed, wobbling from side to side. Holmes walked quickly to keep up.
"No," Watson said emphatically. "Mary encouraged me to take up cycling."
"It looks dreadful," Holmes said.
"No, it's quite… enjoyable. However…"
Holmes looked at him sideways. "However?"
"I can't seem to figure out how to stop!"