Watson

The first thing I did when I woke up was sneeze. That was a blow to my feeble hope that I wouldn't catch a cold. The ache in my muscles and back didn't help either.

I sat up and looked about. Holmes had not yet come out of his room. Either it was still fairly early, then, or he was brooding.

I raised my arms to stretch and found my clothes stiff and still a little damp. I must've looked a poor sight. There were still some of my old clothes in my room upstairs. I rose from the sofa and trekked up the stairs to my old bedroom.

Holmes kept it as a bedroom, though it was more barren than before since I had taken almost all my belongings to my new house. It was useful when I came for visits and such, but I was surprised that he did not turn it into a chemical laboratory or something of the sort. It was one of the things Holmes did that (however unintentionally) showed me he actually did have a soul.

I found a suitable change of clothes and performed my toilet. Holmes must have warned Mrs. Hudson of my coming, for there was water in the washbasin and soap on the table.

Done with my morning duties, I made my way to the sitting room, feeling considerably fresher. I hoped Holmes was up so I could ring for breakfast instead of waiting.

A loud noise made me pause at the sitting room door. I heard a voice- not that of my friend's- speaking in an unfriendly tone.

I should like to say that I am a man of action, and so flung open the door. A tall, gangly man stood with his back to me. He held a revolver at arms length pointed straight at Holmes, who looked like he had just woken up.

The intruder's head swiveled towards me when I had opened the door, but he kept his gun on Holmes. I gave him no time to shoot anyone, leaping forward and twisting his arm back, effectively relieving him of the gun and getting him in my grasp in the same move.

Holmes opened his mouth in surprise. "Good man!"

"Who's this, Holmes?" I asked, struggling to keep the squirming fellow still.

"That is precisely what I was asking when you so punctually burst it. Let's see if we have any luck now that he is on the receiving end of the threats."

"I won't tell you nothin', gov.," our prisoner snarled.

"Then I will tell you. You work for Bertram Cole."

The man's face blanched and he went rigid. "No."

Holmes laughed. "I'm afraid you've already proven the contrary with your body language. Would you be so good as to confirm another thing for me? The next victim of your poisonings is Lord Vandenberg, is it not?"

Holmes must've read something affirmative on the man's face, for he smirked.

"Then the only thing left to know is your own-"

I inhaled sharply as the man twisted backwards and wrenched my bad shoulder almost out of its socket. I immediately released his arm and staggered against the wall. The man darted out of the sitting room and pounded down the stairs. Holmes dashed to the hallway and poked his head down the stairs.

I gingerly held my bad shoulder with my other arm. The pain was intense. The fellow must have twisted the scar tissue and irritated the muscle where Jezail bullet fragments were still lodged.

Holmes returned to the sitting room, rushing over to me and taking my good arm.

"Are you all right, Watson?"

I nodded through clenched teeth. Holmes led me to the nearest chair, into which I sunk gratefully.

"Holmes, the man, you could still catch him-"

"No, Watson, I shall stay here. You don't have your bag with you?"

I was so taken aback by his decision that I stuttered for an answer. "No, it's at my house."

"No matter. May I get you a pain reliever?"

I shook my head despite my throbbing shoulder. "No, it will be fine with some rest."

"My dear fellow, I insist."

I conceded, partly due to Holmes and partly to the overwhelming ache in my shoulder. "Something mild, then."

Holmes went off to fetch a powder, mixing it with a glass of water. I drunk it down quickly, willing it to take effect sooner rather than later.

"What was he here for?" I asked.
"I should think to silence me at the order of his superior. I daresay he did not count on you being here."

I let out a breath. "What luck that I was. Did you get any new information from him?"

"Nothing that I did not already suspect. We are close, Watson, very close." Holmes went to the mantle piece, taking up his pipe and stuffing it.

"Would you care for some breakfast, Watson?"

In all the excitement I had forgotten all about food, but now my stomach reiterated its wants loudly.

"That would be lovely."

Holmes yelled down the stairs to Mrs. Hudson for breakfast. I winced. He would not just use the pull bell.

"I am sending a wire to Scotland Yard to keep an eye on Lord Vandenberg." Holmes called from his bedroom, where he was now rummaging for something. "If they can catch Cole in the act we shall have him."

"How do you know Cole will target him next?" I called.

He emerged with a soiled shirt cuff and tossed it to me. It was the same he had worn when we snuck into Cole's office. He had scrawled some information on it, I remembered. He must have seen my questioning expression over its deplorable condition. "I'm afraid much of the writing was blurred and washed off by the river during our little swim." He explained.

"'Lord Vandenberg' was written on several pieces of paper on Cole's desk, along with his address and a floor plan to his house." Holmes continued. "Our intruder friend was good enough to confirm the point for us."

"What reason does Cole have to kill Lord Vandenberg?" I asked.

Holmes sniffed. "I do not think he has a reason. He is killing randomly now, causing as much slander as he can."

A/N: Bit short, I think. We're getting there.