Today's Prompt (from Book girl fan): Mary has a case.
That evening, Holmes and Watson sat by the fire in the parlour of the inn. Outside the sun had since set, giving way to darkness, but inside was cheery and warmly lit. However, it was not quite enough to chase away all the lingering shadows. Watson stared long and hard into the dancing flames, his cup of tea gone cold between his hands. Holmes sat back in the chair beside him, observing in silence, his keen mind as always racing.
At last, softly, Holmes spoke, "My dear Watson, you know as well as I that the fault is not your own."
Watson was startled by the sudden address, but quickly recovered. "I am all right, Holmes, truly."
"I acknowledge that I am in no position to argue, and yet, the crease of your brow cannot be denied."
Watson sighed and his gaze wandered back toward the flames. "Mary always had the right balm for her friends when they were in need of it."
Holmes nodded. They both knew that there was little he could say upon the matter; it was not his place and now he could not even suggest the antidote of work.
"She even solved a mystery once. It was while you were gone."
"I am sorry to have missed it," Holmes said, a serious undercurrent beneath the otherwise light reply.
Watson glanced up to meet Holmes's gaze, and a silent assurance passed between them, conveying in silence that which would have been more difficult to say in words.
"Her friend's husband had disappeared. That is what brought it to mind. I will never forget her anguish as she told Mary her tale. I was but an observer to the scene, an intruder but for Mary's suggestion that I could somehow be of assistance. But all I felt, and acutely, was my own helplessness as she poured out her sorrows.
"Her husband was traveling for work. He had left in the morning and by the next day he still had not returned. She telegrammed, and they said that he had never arrived at all. She was desperate, and" - he glanced at Holmes - "I feared the worst.
"Mary, however, had a clearer head than I. You would have admired the workmanlike way she went about it. She called the maid for papers from the day before and meanwhile sent me to the station to ask after his train. I returned without a word of anything that could have gone amiss to find that Mary and her friend were likewise empty handed.
"Well, the long and short of it is that I went with them as they spent the remainder of the day riding the train out from London, stopping at every station to ask if anyone had happened to see him or anything else out of the ordinary, for that matter. We had nearly gotten to the end of the line when at last, to my surprise, the stationmaster said he had seen a gentleman nearly trampled by a horse the day before. He had been rushed to the nearest doctor and to his knowledge that was where the man remained.
"We immediately called for a cab to take us to the doctor to see this man ourselves. He was still at the doctor's practice, but his condition had so far recovered that he was able to receive guests. Mary's friend was so greatly relieved, she thanked us both more profusely than surely I deserved. It was her husband, of course - he had merely been unable to telegram on account of his condition."
"Of course," Holmes replied with a smile.
Watson shook his head. "All I could think, as I saw the poor woman, crying tears of joy at being reunited with her dear husband, was that my own anguish would never so easily be mended."
Quietly, even though they were alone in the parlour Holmes murmured in reproach, "John."
"Mary deserved better. Months later, I wondered if even by then she had begun to suffer what had at first seemed like such an innocuous cough."
Holmes discreetly took Watson's hand to convey the reassurance he could not through words alone. "I came back as soon as I had heard, but I know now that I could not have returned soon enough. But I feared that were I to return, I would lead every enemy I had made back to you."
"I know," Watson said, taking Holmes's hand in turn. "But what if they had gotten to you first?"