"I should be back in a few hours," I answered as I pocketed a list of things I needed for my medical bag, "but do not wait supper on me. I frequently have to go to the more distant shop for several things."

He waved an acknowledgement, still barely glancing up from his chemistry set, and I closed the door behind me before swinging the small valise I had left on the landing over one shoulder. I would need almost perfect timing to make this work.

Once over his irritation at his first attempt failing, Holmes had spent the day tinkering with his chemistry set. I had no idea the object of his experiment, nor did I ask this time, but I had set my plan in motion a touch early when yet another cloud of foul-smelling smoke had erupted from his beaker. Supposedly going to restock my bag both made a good excuse to get out of the flat for several hours and would prevent him from thinking he knew where to find me. He had asked when I would be back after I compiled my list.

I hurried through the streets, aiming for one of Holmes' nearby bolt holes that I knew had a mirror. It would have been easier to assemble this disguise in my room, but Holmes would know immediately that the footsteps had come down the stairs instead of up. As he had done to me, I would have to come through the front door.

The hideaway was empty, as I had expected, and I settled into the hard chair, the valise on the table in front of me. I could not lie for anything, but I could dissemble, and I had packed an assortment of makeup, some short-term hair dye, putty, and clothes such that a nobleman's son would wear. Within a couple of hours, Holmes' doctor assistant became a wealthy landowner's second son, something I had once been. I could only hope he would not be able to tell the past from the present.

The lock clicked as I gathered my supplies to leave, and I turned around as Shinwell Johnson slipped through, shutting the door behind him.

"Gran' afternoon," I said with a thick Irish brogue, wondering if he would see through my disguise. Johnson rarely needed to conceal himself, but more than once he had seen through mine or Holmes' in seconds. This would provide an excellent test—however necessarily short—before I faced Holmes.

"'Ello, mate," he said with an easy grin. "Don't believe we've met. Shinwell Johnson."

He held his hand out to shake, and I transferred my cane to my other hand.

"Donovan," I replied politely but somewhat shortly, shaking his hand as I did so. While I appreciated the chance to test my disguise, I had not prepared a story to use on another contact, and that would give me away faster than any disguise failure. "A pleasure ter meet ye, but oi must 'urry."

There was no sign of surprise or hesitance in his face. "Of course. Another time, then. I always enjoy meeting Mr. Holmes' other contacts."

He had already turned away as the door shut behind me, and I smothered a sigh of relief as I hurried down the street. I left my cane and bag—both of which Holmes would recognize far too quickly—in the alley behind the flat then circled around to the front, and Mrs. Hudson answered my knock, polite curiosity in her expression.

"Can I help you?"

"Is Doctor Watson 'ere?" I asked, fingering the watch in my pocket. "Or Mr. Holmes?"

"The doctor is out," she replied, never hesitating even at my thick accent, "but Mr. Holmes is in the sitting room." She opened the door wider. "I can show you up. Your name, sir?"

"Donovan," I said brusquely as I joined her in the entryway. She hesitated for a moment, obviously expecting a second name, but she made no comment when I remained silent, turning to lead me up the stairs.

"This way."

She slowed her pace as she noticed my faint limp, and hurried noises from the sitting room announced Holmes had quickly moved to his chair at the unfamiliar footsteps. She opened the sitting room door as I reached the landing.

"Mr. Donovan."

"Gran' afternoon," I said, hovering near the door until he waved me toward the settee. I purposely fingered the watch in my pocket again. "Ye're Mr. Holmes?"

He slowly nodded, obviously struggling to understand through the thick accent I had affected. "What can I do for you? I hope I did not miss a telegram?"

I shook my head quickly, noting the time on the mantle clock as his gaze flicked toward my pocket. "Oi believe oi foun' somethin' av de doctor's," I said as I moved slightly closer. "Does yer friend frequent de pharmacy aboyt four blocks from 'ere?"

He leaned forward in his chair. "What did you find?"

"I believe oi may 'av 'is watch. Can ye describe it?"

"Gold," he said immediately, frowning, "some fifty years old, with H.W. engraved on the back. It is scratched in multiple places and has four pawn-shop marks on the inside of the case."

I took the watch from my pocket, taking the opportunity to check the time—four minutes left—as I flipped it open to reveal the pawn numbers inside the case.

"'Tiz 'is," I said, passing it to Holmes' outstretched hand. "It wus on a bench outside de pharmacy. Appeared ter 'av slipped outta 'is pocket, an' oi tart oi recognized it from de account yer man published in de Stran'. Oi'm glad oi wus correct. Yer friend 'ill certainly be lookin' for it soon."

Already my pocket felt strangely light without it. I would reclaim it quickly once I revealed myself.

Holmes nodded again, checking the watch once before it disappeared into the pocket of his dressing gown.

"That was not your only reason for coming."

I shook my head, finally taking a seat when he offered again.

"Oi 'ave 'eard ye are gran' wi' codes," I answered. "Me cara," I paused, as if thinking about the word, "friend, oi mean, 'as disappeared, leavin' only dis note." I passed him a small scrap of paper, worry showing as I applied my words to what I would do if Holmes were the one that had disappeared. He studied the scrap as I continued, "Oi'm sure 'tiz direcshuns on wha ter fend 'im, but 'e forgets dat oi can not peck up a code as easily as 'e can. By de time oi decipher de note, oi fear 'e'll decide oi 'av declined ter meet. Oi'll never find 'im then, an'—"

I shut my mouth with a click, as if realizing I was beginning to ramble, but Holmes made no reaction as he studied the note. Three minutes.

"It is an intricate cipher," he eventually said, the words slow as his gaze scanned the note for the third time, "yet—" The word broke off, and he read the scrap again before a smile nearly escaped. He set the note aside. "Watson. That was not five minutes."

I did not answer for a moment, trying to make him doubt himself, but when he merely stared at me, I relaxed into the cushion as I had many times before.

"What did you recognize?" I asked, ignoring his smirk.

"Your note," he answered, the half-smile changing to an affected scowl when I could not smother a grin. That was a high compliment, that neither disguise nor acting had given me away—a compliment which he apparently had not intended to give.

"What about it?" I flicked my glance toward his pocket, and he rolled his eyes and handed me my watch.

"You changed a code we saw years ago," he told me, retrieving the scrap, "but you did not change it enough. At least two symbols are identical, even if they do not carry the same meaning."

I sighed, looking again at the message I had put together in the space of an hour. I saw what he meant almost immediately. I should have spent more time modifying the code.

"Perhaps next time," he told me, leaning back in his chair with an infuriatingly self-satisfied air.

We both knew he only did that to irritate me, but it worked. I started thinking about my next attempt as I retrieved my cane and bag then climbed the stairs to my room. Holmes was not the only one who enjoyed a contest. I would do better next time.

So close, Watson! Maybe next time :)

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