With Moran safely in the cells at Scotland Yard, a blanket pinned over the broken window, and Mrs. Hudson's fine celebratory dinner inside us we talked till all hours, but at last the wine and the aftermath of all the day's excitement left us both drowsy. I considered going back to my own home – I would have to face my surgery hours soon enough – but the couch was closer, and once I had shooed Holmes off to bed I let my eyes close, hoping for a night of uninterrupted sleep.

It was not my nightmare, but his, that woke us.