'Damn!' she exclaimed, dropping the lighted taper she had been using to try and light the kitchen stove.
'Damn and blast it…'
She stood up, back aching, and drew a grimy hand across her forehead. The iron stove's open front door seemed to be mocking her, and she kicked it shut with a clang. Heading over to the sink, she picked up a damp rag to wipe her face, and surveyed the sunrise which was just beginning to transform the amorphous shadows of night into the familiar mountains she knew and loved.
The street immediately outside was deserted. This was a time of day known only to farmers and scullery maids…
…the front door slammed. Startled, Ida stared uselessly in the direction of the sound, then looked back out the window in time to see a man heading purposefully down the street, a dog trotting along in front of him.
'…Dr Watson?' she thought aloud, craning her neck to get a better view, but the man turned into a side street and was lost from sight.
Ida drummed her index finger three times on the steel basin of the sink, trying to contain her curiosity. She picked up the rag as if to start cleaning once more, then tossed it down again. Then, just as she caught sight of Blencathra's familiar form on the skyline, the decision was made. Pulling off the mob cap which had been holding her hair off her face, and dragging the strap of her apron over her head, she made for the door.
Even mid August was chilly at this hour of the morning, and Ida had begun to wish she'd taken the time to put on a coat and hat. But she had managed to catch up with the doctor enough to keep him within sight. He seemed to be letting the dog lead him, and the pair of them were headed towards Derwentwater.
Probably just out for an early morning stroll, she told herself, beginning to feel more than a little daft for this spur of the moment decision. If it took much longer then she wouldn't be able to get back in time to finish lighting the fires before Mrs Beech woke up, and that would not be pleasant.
She paused, biting her lip, in indecision. Ahead of her, the doctor turned into a small lane, which she knew led to open countryside. It would be much harder to follow him through fields without being spotted, and it would also be hard to explain the mud which would no doubt end up spattered all over her skirt. With a sigh, she resigned herself to ending the little adventure, and, feeling rather foolish, she turned to retrace her steps.
Suddenly, a ferocious barking ripped through the early morning stillness, and a man's voice shouted
'What? Oh…' and cut off abruptly. Without thinking twice, Ida turned on her heel once more, and ran towards the sound.
As she entered the lane, at first Ida could see no sign of Doctor Watson or the dog. Bewildered, she stopped, and stood for a moment catching her breath. Then a movement off to her left caught her eye. A man was standing in the ditch, only visible from the waist up, whilst the bloodhound trotted on the roadside, chasing its tail.
Ida approached, cautiously. The man knelt down in the ditch, so that all she could see was his hat, which she recognised
'Dr Watson?' she called, hesitantly
He didn't seem to hear her. As she drew near, the dog bounded up to her in greeting. She patted it vaguely, distracted by the strange scene before her.
'Dr Watson?' she asked, more loudly. She heard him exclaim
'Oh, thank heavens!' but it was clearly not in reply to her.
'Holmes!' he called, his voice torn with anxiety, 'Holmes, can you hear me?'
This was altogether too puzzling to hold back. Ida strode towards the ditch. As she came within a few feet of the edge she gasped in astonishment.
In the bottom of the ditch, where the doctor knelt, lay a man. His clothes were so caked with mud that he was almost camouflaged against the soil, but for the pale, lean, unmistakeable face…
'Mr Holmes?' Ida said, incredulously. Dr Watson at last seemed aware of her presence, and raised his head.
'Is he…?' her lips couldn't help but form the question, though her mind was paralysed in shock.
'No,' said the doctor, too preoccupied to question what she was doing there, 'but we need a stretcher.'
'Right,' said Ida, still staring uselessly, 'right, a stretcher…'
A faint moan brought both their attention back to Holmes
'…Watson…'
'Holmes! I'm here…Don't try to talk. I think your ankle's certainly broken, and…'
'…excellent diagnosis…doctor….' his voice was faint, and punctuated by heavy breathing,
'Holmes, for pity's sake, just stay still, we'll get help,'
'…Watson…I'm not at death's door just yet. If you'll just…help me out of…this decidedly less than…agreeable …predicament, then...'
Holmes started to drag himself up into a seated position. The doctor grabbed his arm,
'Holmes, will you listen to me for once, you're in no state to…'
'Watson!' he spoke forcefully, which brought on a coughing fit. The doctor's consternation was palpable, but he stayed silent until Holmes continued, 'Watson, there's no time to lose…'
'…for what, Holmes?'
'Grimshaw.'
'Grimshaw?'
'Yes, Grimshaw!' he repeated, irritably, 'We have to find him!'
'Holmes, please stay calm,'
'Calm? Watson! We're wasting time! I must examine the scene…I must…' he made as if to try and stand upright, and shifted the position of his leg slightly. With a cry of agony he fell back into the ditch.
Watson turned back to Ida,
'We need that stretcher,' he said, decisively.
She nodded, and turned to head back towards the town, her mind spinning. But as she set off, at a steady jog, she kicked a small object on the lane's dusty surface which tinkled metallically. Something made her pause, and scan the road. A flash of reflected sunlight caught her eye, and she bent down to pick up a silver cufflink. She stuffed it into her pocket for want of anything else to do, and continued on her mission.
A/N
Thankyou very much for your kind reviews, Hermione Holmes and BaskervilleBeauty, I hope you like this second chapter!