Three Strikes And Out
A/N: Just a random story idea. I am not an expert in the Arthur Conan Doyle characters by any means. Please enjoy my random drabble.
Chapter 1
The day had started out well. Holmes was involved in a strange case which seemed to have government ties to it. I had been assisting him partly along the way, but mostly keeping to my medical practice and patient appointments. Lestrade had come by early that morning and insisted Holmes come with him to the crime scene. I knew Holmes already had deduced the crime fully, but would allow Lestrade to work out his own personal conclusions. I had begged absence today, being that I had a full day of appointments to tend to.
We'd all parted our separate ways and I spent most of the morning going on house calls. When I returned to 221B Baker Street late that afternoon, Holmes was not yet returned. Not surprisingly though, as this case seemed particularly important and demanded his full attention at present. I walked into our shared rooms and surveyed the scene before me. What a total mess the place was in. I was surprised Mrs. Hudson put up with us sometimes. Holmes had so many artifacts lying around, some hideous, others insignificant. What a wonder it would be to have these rooms look orderly for once. I put up with many things from Holmes but my innate sense of decency and order demanded I do something to rectify the disaster lying before me.
Surely, I could straighten the place up without disturbing things too much. I prided myself in knowing Sherlock Holmes quite well enough to know which objects were most valuable to him. Carefully, I stacked scattered papers into neat piles, and tried to rearrange his various collected items. As I was straightening a few books on the bookshelf, my elbow knocked against a small glass jar filled with white powder. Quickly I reached out to grab the jar but I missed it completely and to my horror, it fell to the floor and shattered.
I stared down at what I'd done and dread filled me. Holmes had extracted that white powder by a very long chemical process, I remembered. He had spent a week without sleep, watching over his beakers and test tubes. Holmes was going to kill me.
Just then, the door opened and Holmes came into the rooms.
"Oh, Watson, you're back earlier than I expected. Good, I-"
He stopped abruptly and surveyed the rooms. I watched his careful gaze sweep over the changed things and then his eyes spotted the broken jar.
"Watson, that's not the jar of white acid powder!" he exclaimed, and rushed over.
I could only stand there quite dumbly and hang my head in shame. Holmes let out a groan and sank to his knees.
"Oh, Watson! Watson! What have you done? Now my experiment will be ruined!"
"Holmes, I-I'm so sorry. It was an accident." I tried to explain.
He rose and stared hard at me, "I thought we had a gentleman's agreement about each other's belongings. I do not touch yours, and you do not touch mine."
Now Holmes looked quite angry and I tried to rectify the situation.
"I'm so sorry, Holmes. I had the idea that the place could be tidied up a bit and I was trying to be very careful with your things. It was an accident, truly."
"Tidied up?" his voice rose in anger. "What else have you ruined?"
Holmes quickly went around, looking at the neat piles of papers and items. I was taken aback by his accusation that I had ruined other things of his at well and my pride was hurt.
"I was simply trying to make this place look livable. Can't we have some order around here for once?"
"Order! Order! Watson, I do keep my things in order! It is you who has now put them in disorder."
Now I was getting angry, "Now see here, Holmes. I put up with a lot from you. But I draw the line at messes. Why Mrs. Hudson should have thrown us out months ago. Just think of how she has to deal with the place in such a wretched state."
Holmes' eyes sparked with anger and his face grew quite white.
"Well, then Doctor Watson. I suggest you find yourself other living accommodations then. If this place does not meet your needs and requirements, you can leave."
My temper rose as did my blood pressure.
"Fine then! I certainly will leave this place. I'll leave this very night!" I fairly shouted.
"That suits me just fine, Doctor Watson."
So, within half an hour, I had most of my belongings together and left 221B Baker Street and Sherlock Holmes.
Chapter 2
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Mrs. Hudson groaned inwardly as she listened to Sherlock Holmes pacing in the rooms upstairs. That man was going to wear out her carpets, she fretted. The row earlier in the day had been simply awful. She couldn't help overhearing all the shouting and yelling. Poor Doctor Watson, she thought, only trying to clean a little. Yes, indeed, she wouldn't mind Sherlock Holmes learning to be a bit neater with his things. She had noted a new stain on the carpets only two days ago. Some chemical experiment most likely. He was always running some kind of tests on something or other.
What was the fight about anyways? A jar? No, a jar of white acid powder. She remembered Holmes' saying his experiments would be ruined now. Evidently, it was an important item he had once possessed, before Dr. Watson had broken the jar. And now, Dr. Watson was gone away from Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson had watched him leave, secretly peeking through the lace curtains. She was sure he hadn't bothered to see her. He had gone away with a full head of steam. That poor doctor. He really did get a lot of flack from Holmes.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Oh, was that pacing to go on all night long? She'd go mad if Holmes didn't stop soon.
THUD
Oh dear. That didn't sound good at all. What had Holmes dropped now? The sounds of plaintive violin music started up and Mrs. Hudson sighed. Poor Mr. Holmes. He really did have so much knowledge about science and crime detection. His experiments were often key to breaking a case wide open and apprehending a criminal. Mrs. Hudson knew of many such cases that he'd undertaken and solved, thanks to his experiments and tests. The poor man was a workaholic to be sure. How many times had he collapsed from pure exhaustion and Doctor Watson had stepped in to help?
Those two were thick as thieves at times. It was obvious that Holmes needed Dr. Watson's medical knowledge. He would be lost without him now. Oh, she was sure, he would never confess such a thing. But judging by the violin music and pacing, Mrs. Hudson guessed he was regretting the row and the harsh words spoken. Hopefully, they could come together and resolve the rift between them.