A/N: bit of a rush job on this but i have been carsick for five hours

From BookRookie12: Treasure

Many of my countrymen have told tales or embellished stories of Roman gold and barrow treasures hidden in the hills. England was captivated by the riches of ghosts. A polite country doctor of my acquaintance had been of the same mind. On this occasion Holmes had seen fit to send me down for the preliminary investigation while he wrapped up a string of robberies back in London. Doctor Hall had a book of poems, a map, and an account from the naval captain who is said to have hidden the treasure. I had entertained some idea of finding it myself and saving Holmes the trip. Since it seemed so cut-and-dry and affair, he supposed he would only come down if I wrote.

The moon peered at my friend's progress as the wind came over the pond to greet us. We were chilled to the bone even in the absence of snow. Holmes was sweating knee-deep in a ditch at the crest of the hill. Under what had once been 'the shadow of the tallest oak, marked with the ship's sign', Captain Broadben had buried his Spanish gold. Holmes had found the mark at the base of an oak stump. He had found a rusted sword buried to the hilt to mark the spot, and luckily had only been digging the better part of an hour. Really, it should have been over long before now. Hardly worthy of my friend's presence. Holmes had abandoned his coat for a shovel. He had not looked up from his work since Hall bid him to begin, but scowled at the ground all the while. I hung my head part for dizziness but mostly in shame. Hall's fist was clenched in the neck of my jacket while his other hand kept us covered with his pistol.

"It's here." Holmes sounded impatient as he called out. "There's a box under the tip of the sword."

"Dig it out." Hall's reply was as tense, with the added wheeze of a rib injury. At least about that I felt no guilt. The country doctor was healthy as a horse and we both gave as good as we got. I was sure I had looked a sight when Holmes burst into the foyer just minutes after our brawl. Doctor Hall had crossed legal lines for the Broadben gold, and there was no turning back for him. Neither of us were fit to dig after the fight, but it did not ease my guilt. He and I were both marked by blood and bruises by the time it was settled. Had it not been for his untimely intervention with a heavy candlestick I would have captured him in advance of Holmes' arrival.

The shovel struck stone and Holmes growled into the dirt. We'd long been in silence on the hill ledge overlooking the pond. The wind rippling the water was the only sound to be heard besides the rushing of the leaves. It seemed Broadben's treasure box was packed well into the dirt.

Holmes uttered another string of frustrated mumbling. Despite my head wound I would have volunteered to help, even with my hands tied behind my back. Doctor Hall was getting his petty vengeance for my breaking his rib. I had thought I was doing Holmes a service by trying to apprehend Hall. I had planned to write to him afterwards of my success, once I had all the proof he had stolen his neighbor's land. The elderly baronet's children were flung to the far corners of the world, and he would scarcely notice a trespassing circus let alone one greedy physician.

I used the blood dripping down my brow as an excuse not to meet Holmes' eye as he placed first the sword then the wooden box onto level ground. Doctor Hall kept his pistol aloft. "Open it. No tricks, Holmes."

There was nothing save any irritated sigh from him. Holmes searched the lock and hinges with his fingers and brushed away as much dirt as he could. Finally, with an almighty creak, the pried it open.

"It's only a letter, Doctor Hall, as I expected."

He released me on that instant. "What!" I glanced up to find fury on his face, but it was all directed towards that little box. "Another clue? Another puzzle? Broadben's journal said this would be the last one! He even marks the page where it becomes a diary once more."

Holmes pressed his lips into a thin line. "Perhaps if you had read that diary, you would have come to the same conclusion as I. Captain Broadben goes into detail about how- after the loss of his only child- he could not bear to retrieve the heirloom he had hidden for-" With a growl, Hall shoved me back and charged for the box. It was not a hard shove. I could easily regain my footing if I caught my weight just so-

"Watson!"

My back foot met open air and I plunged off the ledge.

The drop to the old mill pond was not far. But the water was deep and I was down a set of free arms. Oddly enough, the instant after I submerged I felt the pond upset a second time. The force of it tilted me sideways before a pair of arms- Holmes!- caught me and we were surfacing again. Time may move in strange paths when one is concussed, but that series of events felt rather succinct to me.

In moments we had arrived at shallow enough waters for Holmes to set me on my own feet. He freed my arms and together we waded up the gravel shore.

"Doctor Hall-" I began.

"His gun came into the pond with me, I fear. I was in somewhat of a hurry and didn't see to him." Holmes gave me an odd frown before continuing. "That water is filthy, Watson. Really, you should have cleaned your cut with something else. I hardly think it will do you any benefit."

I wanted to laugh, but it was too soon a reminder of my failure. "I couldn't catch him, Holmes. After I found that map with the pond, I thought if I could catch him…"

He shook his head. "It looks as if we have both failed in that respect. But have no fear, Watson, I do not believe him anything more clever than an opportunist on a lucky streak. Besides-" He looked up at the ledge. "If Captain Broadben has taught him anything, it is that some treasures are more valuable than Spanish gold."

A/N: listen... action/adventure... the next one will be supercilious cerebral exposition or something i just need to cycle through all the genres. gotta try horror too, maybe western, neo-classical power-metal space opera. we're working up to it, people