Today's Prompt: "How will we find him? He could be anyone." "I'll know him. The moment I see him." (from hold dot my dot coat)
Watson sat in front of the waning fire. The hours drew on and still not a sign. He had tried reading, but it did little to hold his attention against his building fears, and at last he gave up and put the book aside.
He must have dozed sometime in the night, because he awoke to the early morning light piercing his eyes as the sun slowly rose above the horizon. He frantically glanced around the sitting room in the hope that Holmes had returned while he slept and merely snuck into bed, but there was no trace of him. Holmes's bedroom was empty and the bed had not been touched. Another day gone, and Holmes was nowhere to be found.
Holmes would not be pleased at the interference, but Watson could wait no longer. He sent a note to Inspector Lestrade, who arrived before lunch.
"Are you certain something's gone wrong. It's not so unusual for Holmes to be out investigating like this for days on end," Lestrade said.
"He didn't expect to be so long; he wouldn't have suggested I wait up for him if he did. And he said there would be danger."
"If he is in danger, how will we find him? He could be anyone in those disguises of his."
Watson had not lived with Holmes for so many years without learning a thing or two himself. "I'll know him the moment I see him."
They made their way down to the docks were Holmes had said he'd be working. Most of the ships were already out, but there were still many more being loaded and repaired. Watson's eyes wandered from face to face, searching for the familiar features behind beards and moustaches and wild manes of hair. In turn they all warily watched Watson and Lestrade, clearly outsiders among the hard seafaring folk. Plenty were tall enough, a few tall and thin and in one or two Watson glimpsed a familiar aquiline turn of the jaw or sharp grey eyes, but none were the man he knew so well.
They could hardly search every warehouse or ship to find Holmes. What was usually a bit of showmanship - not revealing his line of thought until the end - seemed dangerous now that he was lost who knows where with only his wits to get him out.
"He could be in a hospital," Lestrade suggested a little reluctantly.
"Perhaps," Watson said, but he could only hope Holmes had gotten that far if he were in such a state as to warrant it.
Still, they trudged on along the pier. Watson examined every boathand for those familiar features. One too muscular in ways even Holmes could not affect, one too short without stooping over, another clean shaven without a whisker to hide his round face. There was a hand overlooking the deck of the next boat, tall and thin enough, with a bushy beard that could easily have been a disguise, and sharp piercing grey eyes that met Watson's own for just an instant too long.
"I've got him!" Watson exclaimed, his voice low.
"Where?" demanded Lestrade, glancing about.
Watson jerked his head toward the boat, but he didn't dare cause a scene and ruin Holmes's plan. On a sudden burst of inspiration he called out, "Sir, is this vessel going out to sea today?"
"No, sir," Holmes answered in a low rough voice that was far from his own, "We're waiting for a few more hands to help get us out."
Watson's heart leaped in his chest at the clear message in his words. Still, he managed to get out, "Thank you, good sir."
Meanwhile, he could hear a harsh voice shouting from deeper in the ship. "What are you chatting on about? Get back to work!"
Watson led the way across the street where they could loiter a little less conspicuously. "He's in danger and needs our help to get him out," he whispered.
"You're sure? I don't want to be the man who ruined one of Sherlock Holmes's plans," insisted Lestrade.
"If not, then I'll take the blame."
"Then just follow my lead." With that, Lestrade strode up to the ship and called out, "This is an inspection! Let us up!"
A rough looking man soon blocked their way onto the gangplank. "What the hell do you want?"
"We're here to inspect your ship. Let us on or I have the authority to place you under arrest for impeding an inspection."
"The two of you'll get lost if you know what's good for you," he began.
However, another man emerged from below. "We'd better do as they say."
For a moment it looked like the first man was going to shout, but eventually he relented and took them on a brief tour of the ship. There were clearly places they avoided, but Lestrade made no objections and by the time they returned to the deck, Holmes was gone. Watson could only hope he had escaped and had not been pulled below while they were there.
Lestrade thanked the sailors and they began on their way down the street. Watson tried not to be too obvious as he glanced around looking for Holmes, but he wasn't about to go back to Baker Street if there was a chance he was still in danger. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait long for a sign. As they passed down a side street, Watson heard a shout and when he glanced over, he saw Holmes loitering on the side of the street, waiting for them, his disguise gone, though his clothes were still rough.
"Thank you for finding me," he said once they were all comfortably seated in a cab. "I fear I underestimated the fine fellow you met just now. He mistook me for one of his own men, but he still didn't trust me. I haven't been let out of their sight since he first spotted me. If you hadn't come, I may have been forced to go with them out to sea."
"Do you have the evidence you were looking for?" asked Lestrade.
"Just about," Holmes said with his enigmatic smile. "But first, won't you join us for a belated lunch."