Prompt: Bad behavior! Holmes and/or Watson has to spend a night in jail for, frankly a ridiculous reason, officer really this wasn't that much of a-, from ThatSassyCaptain

Of the many times I assisted my friend Sherlock Holmes in solving cases, I always particularly enjoyed those times he was called out of London to work on a case in the countryside. He would disagree with this most strongly, as he had a horror of the countryside and the ease with which is possible to commit a crime there, but I appreciated the chance to leave London, breathe the fresh air and walk among the green fields.

However, I can see my Holmes's point. If any man can be said to have a natural habitat, London was his, and he depended on his intimate knowledge of the city and the network of contacts he had developed there to assist him in his work. In the countryside as nowhere else, he truly worked alone, with none assisting himself save myself. In fact, as the years went on and his reputation began to precede him, we often discovered that the country police were more unwilling than their London counterparts to believe he was capable of solving their cases, their natural country antipathy to outsiders combining with disbelief as to the truth of my stories.

It was during one of these country cases that I awoke in the small room we had taken at the local inn to find Holmes already long gone. This was usual when he was on a case, and I thought little of it as I went down to breakfast, sure that he would appear shortly and tell me of what he had discovered before we went out to continue the investigation. Before I could even begin my morning tea, however, I was approached by a village lad. I assumed Holmes had hired him to deliver me a message and that I should have to cut my breakfast short to meet him at some out of the way location. "What is it?" I asked. "You come from Holmes, do you not?"

"Well, sort of, sir," the boy said. "From Officer Clapham down the village station. He says you're to come quickly, sir."

Perhaps Holmes had already solved the case, I thought. Or, as another thought occurred to me, perhaps he had run across the criminal we were after, alone and as off his guard as he ever was. He should have woken me to accompany him! "Lead on," I said to the boy, and left my breakfast as I hurried after him to the tiny village police station.

Officer Clapham, the lone deputy there, had been dismissive of Holmes's ability to solve the case, though begrudgingly willing enough to grant him freedom of the village. So I was most surprised when I entered the station to find my friend sitting in the tiny gaol, looking for all the world as comfortable as if he was in his own armchair. "Holmes!" I cried. "How did you possibly end up there?"

"Ah, Watson," Holmes said, smiling pleasantly as if he had simply met me unexpectedly during a walk in the park. "Would you be so good as to post my bail and sign me out? Clapham here took a dislike to my activities this morning."

I turned to look at Clapham, who gave Holmes a dark look. "He was walking the moors in the early hours of the morning. Farm folks saw him, thought he was a burglar. Or worse."

"Yes, but you can see for yourself he is not!" I said crossly, signing the book to indicate that I vouched for Holmes's good behavior so he could be let out. "The land is public, is it not? Any man may walk upon it."

"Yes, but he was carrying these!" Clapham said, indicating a pile of spears sitting against the wall. Each was a different height and carried a different pointed head. I had not the slightest idea where Holmes had even acquired them. They certainly had not come from Baker Street; even I should have noticed if he was attempting to carry multiple spears onto the train as we left.

"I needed to see if I could match the mark left in the tree by the murder weapon," Holmes said. "I determined that the weapon was undoubtedly a spear, most likely purchased in the same shop where I found these yesterday. I admit it did take some time to find a suitable tree, which accounts for why I had to walk so far. Most fortunate for the criminal class, and for criminal investigators, to find such an unusual specialty shop here."

In London, such an admission would not have batted an eye, used as Scotland Yard was to his eccentricities. Here, the country deputy simply looked stonily at my friend before saying, "Spear fishing's popular here." Clapham's tone was still suspicious, and I suddenly thought how it would look for Holmes to have a record against him for disturbing the peace of this country village.

"Indeed it is, you have an excellent river that is ideal for that sport," Holmes said. "Perhaps you and I should try our hands at it later today, Watson?"

I had never before heard Holmes express any interest in fishing prior to this statement, and I had no interest myself. Yet I knew when he was on the scent of a case, and the moment he had heard of the popularity of spear fishing he had undoubtedly begun to form a theory. It was not hard to follow his idea; if the murderer had been a good hand with a spear, it seemed likely he was a practitioner of the sport which would give him reason to become skilled at it.

"Not if you're defending yourself before the magistrates, you won't!" Clapham said. "You might be some high and mighty detective in the city, but you come in here with your fancy theories, walking about scaring people, and expect consequences."

Holmes bristled, and I laid a hand on his arm. "Officer, really, this wasn't that much of an...unusual matter. Surely you must allow some freedom for a criminal investigator to investigate as he sees fit? We came here at your invitation."

"Only because the victim's family insisted," Clapham said, before looking at Holmes and apparently deciding that it would be more trouble than it was worth to argue the point further. "Very well. Go about your investigation. I will only ask that you confine it to a decent time of day, Mr. Holmes!"

"Thank you," I said gratefully, while Holmes simply took up his spears and left. I shook my head as I followed him. What a preposterous reason to be pulled from my breakfast!

Holmes seemed entirely unperturbed by the event as I caught up with him. "Well, that interruption has set the investigation back slightly, but we shall make up the time. In fact, it was a lucky occurrence that he happened the mention the river where people spear fish. I suggest we begin our investigation there," he said.

I sighed. "Holmes, I would very much like to finish my breakfast first, as I was forced to leave it to bail you out of prison!"

"Yes, most unfortunate," Holmes said. "Officer Clapham is most dedicated, if overzealous when it comes to innocent men walking about in the early hours of the morning."

"Well," I said after a pause, "At least it happened here rather than in London. I can only imagine the headlines should you have been seen walking the streets with that pile of spears!"

Holmes laughed heartily. "Oh, Watson, in London I know how to disappear. If I did have a need to carry spears about, no one would possibly see me."

This only led me to wonder what possible needs to carry spears about London he might find, and then what else he had been roaming London with that I had not known about. I simply decided to drop the subject altogether as we approached the local pub, as Holmes did at least buy me a meat pie for my trouble in missing breakfast. He chattered away about the different markings left by the heads of various spears as we walked, and I had no doubt that the case should be solved by the end of the day - no doubt to Officer Clapham's consternation! I smiled to myself, already thinking of how I should write this story for eventual publication. It would undoubtedly be an amusing addition to Holmes's public record!