Chapter Fifteen: A Bit of A Row with Watson
"I thought we discussed--"
"Yeah I know Doc," I said with a forced smile. "But I couldn't stand the thought of you guys going off on an opera tour and me staying behind in this hotel room."
Sherlock Holmes stood and offered me his seat on the sofa which I accepted gratefully.
"Thanks," I said as I sat down. Unfortunately, the sofa was directly across from the chair Watson was occupying, and I was forced to endure a look of seething anger from the good doctor.
"Hey Doc," I said with my most disarming smile, "You really didn't think I would allow you to sentence me to a slow and painful death by boredom did you?"
My comment had the desired effect and Watson shook his head god humouredly. "What am I going to do with you?"
I smiled. "Put up with me," I replied. "Now, not that it is any of my business, but what were you boys discussing before I came in?"
The detective said nothing and lit a cigarette.
"You do know smoking is bad for your health right?" I asked, thinking of health class.
Holmes waved my comment away like it was some type of troublesome mosquito and took a long drag on the cigarette. "We were discussing tomorrow," he said simply.
"That doesn't tell me much," I replied.
"As I already told you," he said with irritability, "I have arraigned for the management to give us a tour of the opera house--"
"Cool! Can I come?"
Holmes raised one of his eyebrows sardonically. "Were you invited?"
"You said the word us, so I assumed you meant all of us."
"Perhaps I did, or perhaps I didn't," the detective replied coolly. "Besides, it is not my decision if you accompany me," with that he motioned towards Watson.
"Can I go Doc?"
"Most certainly not," he admonished. "Your ankle will not be able to support hours of walking. I told you I did not want you out of bed for three days."
"Yeah I know, but--"
"There are no buts, you are not going."
I looked at Holmes pleadingly, but he ignored me. Figures he won't help me when I need him.
"Come on Doc, what's the worst that can happen I re-sprain my ankle?"
"A risk I do not want you to be taking."
I sighed. "Listen Doctor Watson, I do not mean to offend you, but somehow I disagree with your medical diagnosis. Perhaps the best thing I could possibly do is to be up and walking."
Watson gave a snort of contempt and once again shook his head. "Miss Sterling, there is no way you can win this argument. You will stay here tomorrow."
"I could climb out the window."
"What?"
"We're only on the third floor Doctor and I did notice a drain pipe conveniently located outside the window of Mr. Holmes's bedroom."
"He could and will lock the door to his room."
I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "You seriously don't think I'd pick the lock?"
Watson was about to reply, when Holmes's strident voice ended the argument. "Enough! I do not care if Mackenzie accompanies us or doesn't. I feel it is more important for us to discuss tomorrow's events instead of sitting here arguing."
"Well said Mr. Holmes," I said with a smile.
He ignored me once again. "As I was saying Watson," he said putting out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table, "before we depart for the Opera House, we will first go to the train station and book passage on the first train from Paris to Brittany."
"Brittany? I thought we were going to Perros."
Sherlock Holmes chuckled at my ignorance. "The small town of Perros is located on the Brittany Peninsula."
"Oh," I muttered.
"Brittany is mostly--"
"Please, I don't need a geography lesson," I said, my ribs beginning to ache. "I simply asked a question, and I don't need a three hour answer complete with maps and charts."
"Hmph!" Holmes said with irritation. "Next time, perhaps I will not respond to your questions if you do not like my answers."
"Maybe that'd be a good idea Monsieur," I replied. Suddenly I felt guilty for what I said. Holmes was after all, answering my question. "Sorry, I didn't mean to sound evil."
The detective made no reply and I wasn't sure if my apology was accepted or not. The three of us sat in the sitting room, discussing various things, my plea to Watson to let me go with them certainly came up numerous times. Finally, after I explained calmly and coolly the possible ways I could escape from the room (not that I was capable of doing any of the things I told him, I mean I'm afraid of heights, I can't pick a lock to save my life, I can't climb down a drainpipe, he didn't need to know any of this of course), he finally consented to allow me to accompany them.
It was roughly ten o'clock when Holmes reminded us that we had better get to bed because of the hectic day ahead of us. I smiled at both men and bid them goodnight, my animosity toward Holmes was already beginning to diminish.
I hobbled into the bedroom I was sharing with my best friend and saw her stretched out, full length on the bed, flipping through the pages of a book.
I nodded to her and went into the bathroom to change into the night clothes Watson had bought me. When I returned to the bedroom, Becky shoved her book aside and sat up, watching me like a hawk.
