Set around 1885
"Watson, did you have any plans for tonight?" Holmes asked as I entered our sitting room after making my rounds.
"No," I answered truthfully; sitting by the fire reading the evening newspaper could hardly be counted as plans.
Holmes nodded in satisfaction, "Good. I received a telegram requesting an audience with me tonight at seven o'clock, and as it is nearly seven now, our visitor will be arriving soon."
"Did he leave you any details of the case?" I asked with interest, settling into my armchair.
Holmes shook his head, "No, I am in as much suspense as you, Watson." He fell silent, his head cocked to one side. "Although not for much longer." Almost as he finished speaking, the bell rang and I heard Mrs. Hudson ushering our visitor inside.
The man who entered our sitting room was tall, with dark hair and beard. He wore thin glasses, and clothing made of the most expensive material. His bearing suggested a noble birth and upbringing.
"I am Lord Bulworth," the visitor announced. "No doubt you have seen my name or that of my family in the society pages."
"Indeed I have," I answered, knowing that Holmes did not read the society pages. It seemed to me imprudent to insult such a man by ignoring his stature when he called on us for help.
"Excuse me, which of you gentlemen is Sherlock Holmes?" Lord Bulworth asked, surveying the room.
"I am Holmes," my companion said, rising from his chair. "This is my esteemed friend and colleague, Dr. Watson."
Bulworth nodded in my direction, then turned to Holmes, "I take it you received my telegram of this morning?" Holmes indicated that he had, sitting back down and offering the settee to our visitor, who declined it. "I was rather hoping you could help me. I must say, I am at my wit's end to consult a detective, as I would prefer that this business is kept out of the public eye."
"Many such noble houses have relied on our discretion," Holmes said. Bulworth nodded, glancing at me again, then continued.
"I have two tickets for the last train leaving London. My estate is in Kent, and I believe it would be beneficial for you to look at the – well, the scene where it all took place." The nobleman appeared to be keeping his reason for consulting Holmes secret, for no reason I could tell. Holmes sat up with interest.
"I make it a habit never to go anywhere without first determining if it is necessary for me to do so," Holmes said. "Watson here will tell you that I am often able to bring a case to a satisfactory conclusion without leaving this chair. Please, tell us your story."
Bulworth seemed even more ill at ease with this invitation, "I would rather not say here. I can relate the story to you on arrival, where I can show you in detail the layout of the scene. It really is a matter of utmost delicacy and is rather difficult to explain without your presence at my estate. And, of course, assurances of your discretion."
"I believe I have already answered that question," Holmes said. His tone was unfailingly polite, but I could detect the annoyance in his voice.
Lord Bulworth made no such attempt to hide his displeasure; although he did not raise his voice, his attitude grew more imperious. This was a man used to being obeyed in all things. "See here, Mr. Holmes, it is a great disturbance to someone in my position to consult a detective at all. I am here at the request of my family, but I assure you, I will speak only to you in the privacy of my own home. Not here with whomever you deem fit to hear my private business!"
Suddenly the matter became clear to me, and I quietly stood up and began to leave the room. My own embarrassment was of no matter; I did not expect to help Holmes on every case. It was just as well that he solve this one alone, as he had done on so many others.
"Watson, stay where you are," Holmes said. Had such a request in such a tone come from any other man, I would have called it an order. Turning around, I saw Holmes standing, facing our visitor, anger evident in his expression. "Dr. Watson is my trusted friend and companion. I will hear no slight, overt or otherwise, regarding his discretion."
"Mr. Holmes, my family will not hear of our private business being bandied about in front of some fellow we do not know!"
"Then I will not hear of your business, or of your case. Good night, sir," Holmes said with an air of finality, handing our visitor his hat.
Lord Bulworth appeared astonished. It seemed to me that he was not used to being refused, certainly not by someone in as inferior a position as he deemed Holmes to be, comparable to himself. Stiffly, he accepted his hat, bid us good night, and left. Holmes glared at the door until the sound of his footfalls faded and we heard the front door shut behind him.
"Holmes, you did not even wait to hear his case," I said, in some confusion.
"No, Watson, I did not," Holmes answered.
"It may have been something interesting," I said. "Why, only this morning you were lamenting the lack of interesting crimes since the capture of the Pressing and Field counterfeiters."
"Interesting as it may be, he was most condescending in his attitude toward you, was he not, Watson?"
I affirmed that he was, and Holmes nodded. "A precedent has been set tonight. Those who consult me know that my friend Dr. Watson is on occasion good enough to assist me in solving these little problems, and if they wish me to solve their cases, they will accept your help also. Should it be required, of course." He turned back to the newspaper, as if he had said nothing more important than a remark on the damp weather outside.
"Well, thank you, Holmes," I said. "I do enjoy helping you on your cases; it would grieve me to know that your clients did not trust me as they do you."
"Rest assured, my dear Watson, my clients will trust you as I do. If they do not, they will simply have to find a different detective."
I smiled, "You know, Holmes, you may destroy your career."
"Certainly not, Watson!" Holmes exclaimed.
"How can you be so sure?"
"My dear fellow, there simply are no other detectives. At least, no other consulting detectives. I did say I invented the job." Holmes smiled at his own cleverness and I was unable to prevent myself from laughing out loud. "Those clients who object to your presence will quickly learn not to, or else trust themselves to the dubious abilities of Scotland Yard. Pass me the agony column when you are finished with it."
I chuckled to myself, passing over the desired section of the newspaper, reflecting that he, who trusted no one, had shown an extraordinary trust in me after only two years acquaintance. I only hoped I would prove to be worthy of it.
