Author's Note: Particular thanks to Janey Aurora, who has just been the most delightfully eager reviewer. 

Chapter Seven: A Renewed Vigor

It was only a few days later that I was informed of exactly how badly off I had been, and what had so keenly roused my friend's concerns. When I had fallen, as I had by now recognized, I had hit my head, and passed out face down on the floor. The flames had begun to lick at my person even as Holmes returned from his journey to Mycroft's, and I had been very badly burned around the hands and face. The injuries and the loss of blood had weakened and sickened me, so that I had been in very bad shape for several days, even a week.

The events were described to me as follows; when Sherlock Holmes arrived on the scene, he was just in time to see my fall, and to rush towards me through the debris. Barely managing to do it unscathed, he did not reach me in time to prevent the very bad burns, which I received on my face and hands. He did, however, after only a few minutes, shield me from the fire long enough to put it off. He then called a cab, and dashed me frantically over to his brother's, where I had lain for almost a week before I awoke.

Only two or three days after I regained consciousness, I found myself feeling well enough to rise, to sit up straight, and to eat a bit of solid foods. The loss of blood had made me weak and sick, and the hit on the head had rattled me a great deal, leaving me faint and useless for a good while. There had been some worry, at the beginning, that I might never wake up, and that was what had so blanched my companion's face, so that he looked no better than myself by the end of it.

As Miss Fairchild had predicted, Sherlock Holmes did not rise from his seat until I could get around and walk on my own. He showed a particular polite deference to the lady from then on, almost as if in recompense for the lack of cordiality he had shown at the beginning. Mycroft, quietly pleased to see that both his brother and myself were well on our way to being healed of the effects of the accident, once again begged Holmes to take up the case of the Allastair fire.

There was a vigor and an eager fire of it's own in Holmes eyes after that, and I found him more convinced than ever that he would be the man to solve the case of the mysterious arsonist. He listened to me as I described, in every particular, the event, which had preceded my injuries, and we both noted with some excitement how parallel it had been to the occurrence of which Mrs. Allastair had spoken.

And yet, the puzzle still remained of how to completely clear Miss Fairchild's name. Although it was absolutely impossible that she could have had anything to do with it, her face still remained stamped on the public opinion of the case, and Mrs. Allastair still positively identified her photograph. In fact, it was rumored that around the time that I had received the candle through my window, a woman of Miss Fairchild's description had been lurking around in the area, and I could make neither heads or tails of any of it.

One morning, while we were still staying at Mycroft's residence, Holmes and I went for a relaxing walk around the house, which I believed would help me get my bearings back after my head injury. I chanced, at the time, to ask him what it was that he had learned on his evening visit to Mrs. Allastair's on the night of my accident.

"You are right, Watson," he said, looking at me with a start. "I had completely lost track of telling you any of it in the hubbub that followed." He pondered for a moment, and then turned to me with the pleased expression of a man who had been asked to describe his latest masterpiece.

"I believe," he said, "that I have uncovered many of the missing pieces of our puzzle. If only," he added, with a darkened countenance, "I had been a little quicker in doing, you would have been spared that unfortunate run-in with my bookshelf."

"That," I insisted, "is a useless thought, and neither of us are the worse for wear long-term. What have you learned?"

Holmes stopped, and turned to face me, so that I had to bring myself to an abrupt halt to stop myself from running directly into him. "Do you remember," he asked, "how Miss Fairchild told us that she has a brother who had been living in America?"

"I do," I said. "Her senior, now in town to visit with her and her mother."

"Capital, Watson," beamed Holmes. "You have a knack for detail, even if you can only retain without stringing together the facts." He paced as we talked. "Well, upon beginning my inquiries, I discovered that the young man staying with Mrs. Allastair, her son, apparently, also hails from America, where he has, although I'm sure you've deduced this by now, been studying medicine at the same university."

I was taken aback. "And so, they know each other "

Holmes shrugged. "Alec Allastair denies the acquaintance," he said, "but I would not be surprised if that very acquaintance was the key to our little mystery, and I hope to determine exactly how far that mystery goes, today. It is to that end that I would ask you to accompany me over to the Allastair's residence this morning, if you're feeling up to it. Otherwise, I believe we can certainly wait until tomorrow."

"Of course I'm feeling up to it," I said quickly. "I'm feeling quite well, actually, considering the circumstances. All thanks to you and Mycroft and your swift action on my behalf."

Holmes did not say anything, but he looked quietly pleased at my recognition.

"Besides," I said, "I would much rather have this case solved, and prevent anyone else from losing their precious armchairs."

Together, we walked at a leisurely pace across to the Allastair residence. I was recounting a delirious dream that I had while I was wafting in and out of my temporary unconsciousness, when Holmes stopped hard in his tracks, with a surprised expression on his face. I stopped as well, and peered around him to catch a glimpse of whatever it was that had so arrested him.

In the road before us stood a young couple, a tall man, and a remarkably dainty young woman. As they drew closer to us, I noticed that the man was Mr. Alec Allastair. The woman with him was a small blond girl, very slight of stature, with her hair pinned back tightly against her head. I heard Holmes let out a grand sigh of contentment, and then he turned away from the street, and entered the house of Mrs. Allastair, without another glance at the pair.

The woman in question was standing in the middle of the room, sipping a cup of tea and leafing through a newspaper, when Holmes accosted her. "Mrs, Allastair," he declared, "you owe me an apology."

Mrs. Allastair looked up at him with widening eyes. "You'll excuse me, I hope," she said warily, "if I have no idea what you're talking about."Seeing me, she perked up. "Ah, Doctor Watson! Feeling better, I hope?"

"Very well indeed, thank you," I replied, but Holmes would not be put off from his point.

"You owe me an apology," he insisted, "for encouraging me to quarrel with my brother over a woman, while the entire time, the culprit who almost murdered the good Doctor Watson has been living under your very roof."

Mrs. Allastair balked at my companion, and then shook her head, standing up from the table and taking a step backwards. "My god," she said, "You're mad, sir. You're out of your mind." Beseechingly, she turned to me. "He's out of his mind," she insisted. "I have nothing to do with this. Why on earth would I set fire to my own house, for god's sake?"

"Although your conduct now speaks of a guilty conscience," Holmes corrected her, "I was in no way referring to you. Instead, I believe that the blame lies more with Mr. Alec Allastair."

"That," insisted Mrs. Allastair coldly, "is an excuse to remove my suspicions from Miss Fairchild."

"Miss Fairchild," Holmes countered, "was in custody for all of the time that the flames were tearing apart my own furniture. I believe I am making no excuses, madam, and I would be most obliged if you would call your son in to ansswer for himself."

Mrs. Allastair opened her mouth for further protestations, but they were unneccessary.

"It's all right, mother," came a voice from the doorway. "I'm here already."