As requested, here is the sequel. I am not as happy with it as I could be, but I found this one very difficult, as both my Beta and my "sounding board" will probably be happy to tell you (many thanks to you both, by the way).

I have written this piece from Holmes' point of view and in the style that I use when writing my SH22 pieces because I could find no other way that worked so well. I hope that you can forgive the alternative style and that you find it enjoyable.

Word count: 982


I am bone weary; stagnation exhausts me much more than even the most trying of cases ever could. I have been pacing all night and the look that I received from my companion this morning informs me that it did not go unnoticed.

But this is maddening; infuriating! The morning correspondence brought nothing for me but a request to locate a lost cat and the afternoon brought only a reminder that our rent has gone up. Where are the criminals? Surely the rain would offer an excellent cover for their operations; it is tipping down out there, throwing up a mist with the force at which it hits the road, pavements and rooftops. If I were a criminal, I would consider the conditions to be perfect.

At least Watson would appear to be feeling better today, for he has not even treated me to a dose of his sarcasm. I, on the other hand, am boiling with frustration. I need a case! How can my friend just sit there reading so contentedly? How does he not die of boredom? I wonder if he would notice if I were to just...

"Holmes! Put your Morocco case down this instant unless you wish to part with ten pounds."

Damn! How did he do that? He is not even looking at me!

"Would you please stop pacing? You are causing a draught."

Patience Holmes. Patience old chap. Ah, but that calm tone is so grating! Say nothing; you can win if you just say nothing. I wonder if touching my hands to his throat in warning would lose me my bet. No, no; do not even think it! This is dear old Watson!

"Are you feeling all right? Don't shrug your shoulders. What is wrong?"

I do wish that he would not look at me like that. Go away Watson!

"Holmes? Are you listening? You are working yourself into a fever. Whatever is the matter?"

For God's sake deduce it! "Nothing. Just carry on as you are." He is still staring at me! Why can he not leave me alone? Is he truly concerned, or is he doing his utmost to win this bet by antagonising me? Surely he would not do that. That is unfair and Watson is an English gentleman; English gentlemen do not cheat. Come, come Holmes! You are being irrational.

"Why will you not speak to me?"

Must I? "I have nothing to say. I am bored, that is all."

"Hum, yes. It would not be so bad if this rain would stop; we could take a walk or something."

Ah ha! His leg is still paining him! I saw that flinch when he attempted to stretch it. What the deuce is happening to me? Am I truly glad that my friend is in pain? "Your leg is still hurting you."

"It is cold and wet out Holmes; such weather always causes my old wounds to ache."

No, I am not glad. I may not want to lose my bet, but that does not mean that I wish to see my companion in such discomfort. "Does the fire not help?"

"Not as much as I would like, no."

"Would a hot bath not be beneficial?" What have I said to cause him to slam his book down and glare at me in such a manner? Have I done something wrong?

"I am a doctor for God's sake! If there was anything that I could do, do you not think that I would do it, as opposed to sitting here and feeling sorry for myself?"

He owes me ten pounds, but I shall mention that later. I have never seen my companion fly into such a sudden fit of temper and I am not sure that I wish to antagonise him further. Ah! But this means that I have won!

"What the devil are you doing? Holmes! Put that down or God help me..."

This is not fair! I can forfeit my winnings by using my cocaine if I wish it, surely? It would be kinder than taking ten pounds from my friend; his funds are quite low enough! "I am forfeiting my winnings Watson. This way, we both lose our bet and I can have my much-needed stimulation."

"Stimulation! Holmes, we both know that that drug will destroy you if you continue to use it. It could be heart failure, it could be your brain, it could be any number of things, but it will be your end one day. Please, put that down."

Very well old fellow; there is no need to upset yourself. There we are; it is shut up and back in its place. I should like to know what I am supposed to do now though. My brain is still screaming for some form of stimulation. "Well, what do you suggest that I do Doctor? I am about to die of boredom, so I had might as well take my chances with the cocaine!"

"Now you are being over-dramatic. Why do you not play your violin? Surely that must help?"

"No, it does not. It helps me to think! What would you imagine would happen if I were to try to think when I have nothing to occupy my mind? Well?"

"Sorry Holmes. Oh, come now! Don't start pacing again."

"You would be pacing as well if you had two legs to pace with!" Oh, that was below the belt! What is wrong with me lately? "Watson! No! Sit down. I did not mean that. You know that I did not mean that. Please, please sit down. Wait here while I get my violin. Yes, yes; I know what I said."

It is the only way in which I can apologise and I do so need to apologise! I should not have said a word; I knew that I should not have said a word.