A/N: Usually disclaimer applies. Nothing owned by me. No money paid to me.
Going After The Detective
I glanced around the sitting room of 221B Baker Street. At first I thought that I was looking at another room or I was dreaming but it wasn't either. For once, the room was actually clean.
Well, maybe it wasn't totally cleaned but at least it looked a little more…like an English gentleman's sitting room should look.
I took a step into it. I was almost afraid that if I went too far it would turn out to be an illusion and I would loose it all. I hesitated, and then took two more steps forward.
Well, if it was an illusion it wasn't going anywhere for the time being. I began to walk normally around the room. "It's nice to see the floor of this place every once in awhile," I thought to myself. Then I noticed an envelope addressed to me.
I picked it up and looked it over. It was written in Mr. Holmes' quick, sometimes almost illegible, writing. I sat down and carefully opened the envelope.
Dear Mrs. Hudson, (it read)
I am writing to inform you of my departure from London to the Sussex Downs. It has come to my attention that I simply cannot solve every singular problem that the public gives me and, much as I would like to stay, I simply cannot be a bother to you anymore. I know it must have disturbed you to have everything from kings to nothing less than ruffians knocking at your door. It pains me too much to tell both you and Watson good-bye so, if you aren't furiously mad at me, would you please tell him that he was the best companion in our adventures that I have ever had. And you, my good woman, you were always cooking our meals, making sure that we, me in particular, had enough food to survive and more.
It is painful to know that I only leave you with this note; I'm sure, but always remember me to be
Very sincerely yours,Sherlock Holmes
Just after I finished reading his note a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in," I called. Dr. Watson bustled in.
"Oh, he's not here either," he stated.
"If you're talking of Mr. Holmes, Doctor, I'd advise that you'd better read this." He took the paper from my hands and began to read it. When he finished he sat down, stunned.
"What should we do Doctor? Mr. Holmes means so much to you, I know, but he means so much to me too. What can we do?"
The doctor looked up at me in surprise. "Well, I don't think there's much we can do Mrs. Hudson. It's his own choice to leave and when he makes up his mind, well, that matter is finalized."
Now don't get me wrong, Mr. Holmes annoys me to no end with his constant deductions and with nearly every sort of person from around the world tramping (in one way or another) up and down our steps but, still, there was (is) something very nice about that man and I had a feeling he wasn't going to live very long without somebody keeping an eye on him.
"You're wrong Doctor," I said.
"Wha- what?"
"You're wrong," I repeated. "Because I'm going after Mr. Holmes!"