From Galaxy1001D: Dec 10th: Write a story where Sherlock Holmes uses his magnifying glass while smoking his pipe.
Author's note: I decided to take you at your word my dear, but I must confess that the result is quite possibly the strangest tale that I have ever written.
I shivered as I pulled my friend clear of the snow that had engulfed us both. I was dreadfully cold and knew that my companion would undoubtedly be suffering even more than myself, being so terribly thin.
I held Holmes close to me in an effort to shield him from the biting wind as I assessed him for injuries. I had not made much progress when his eyes flickered open and he groaned and coughed.
"Watson," he gasped tiredly. "Not hurt, are you Watson?"
I squeezed his hand reassuringly. "No old fellow; I am quite all right. But how are you? Is anything broken?"
I watched with no little confusion while he pulled his pipe from his pocket and examined it in hands that he could not quite keep from shaking with cold. He then checked his watch and compuss, followed by his magnifying lens.
"Everything is in order," said he with a small smile.
I could not help but return that smile, even though I felt somewhat exasperated. "I am glad that your equipment is all in order, but what about you?"
He dismissed my concern with an impatient wave of his hand and thrust his pipe between his teeth. Upon pulling his matchbook from his pocket he groaned and tossed it down at his feet.
"Damn! Watson, do you have a match?"
I pulled my own matches from my pocket only to discover that they were quite useless. My clothes were as soaked as his from the snow and so in turn everything within my them was damp at best.
"I am sorry Holmes."
He shrugged and gave me another pained smile. "Well, well, we shall just have to make use of what we do have," said he as he thrust his magnifying glass into my hand. "Do you think that you could light my pipe with this?"
Fortunately there was ample bright sunlight at our disposal and it did not take me very long to concentrate that light into a beam hot enough to light Holmes' pipe for him. The fellow beamed at me as I handed the lens back to him.
"Excellent Watson! And now, back to Baker Street."
We linked arms in an effort to assist one another in maintaining what little warmth we might still have in our chilled bodies and turned our steps in the direction of home.