Prompt: Pants, from SheWhoScrawls
A/N: It took me longer than it should have to remember that pants refer to underwear in British English, but I then wrote this accordingly. Enjoy!
While many of my later readers assumed that I accompanied my friend, Sherlock Holmes, on every case, in reality this was far from true. While in later years, I acted more as assistant and biographer than I did as doctor, there were many instances in the early years of our partnership when Holmes did not even tell me of the cases he was working on, and the only inkling I had of them was the frequency and unusual times at which he ran in and out of the door of our shared rooms.
It was during one of these times that I returned to Baker Street, having just returned from purchasing an engagement ring for my dear Mary. I knew that, in her sensible way, she would not likely be surprised by my proposal, as we both knew we intended to spend our lives together and indeed I doubted whether it would be a surprise to anyone who knew us. But I had spent much time in choosing a ring, one that I hoped would both please and surprise her and was eager to show it off.
"Oh, Doctor, good afternoon," Mrs. Hudson said as I shut the door behind me. "Would you like some tea?"
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson, but first, I would like your opinion of something." In my excitement, I followed her into the kitchen as she went to prepare the tea and nearly dropped the small box as I took it out of my pocket. "Oh, forgive me," I said, then opened the box to reveal the small yet flawless diamond ring I had purchased. The setting was intricate, the gold curling around the diamond in patterns that reminded me of India, a place that held much history for us both.
"Oh, Doctor, is that for Miss Morstan?" Mrs. Hudson asked. When I nodded, our landlady broke out into a smile. "It is lovely, Doctor, and I am sure she will like it very much. May I offer you congratulations, or is it too premature?"
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," I said, unable to resist a smile. "It is certainly not too early. I am the happiest man in London, I believe, and I have not even asked her yet."
Mrs. Hudson beamed at my obvious pleasure. "She's a lucky woman, Doctor, if you don't mind my saying so," she said. "And you are surely a lucky man as well."
"The luckiest," I said, thinking of how different my fortunes were now from when I had arrived in London seven years before. "Is Mr. Holmes in?" I asked.
"No, he ran out in a frenzy dressed as a common laborer about two hours ago," Mrs Hudson said. "He told me not to wait for him to serve dinner, if you were to arrive home."
"Oh," I said, somewhat disappointed, for I had wanted to show Holmes Mary's ring, as well as ask him to be my best man. "Well, it is no matter," I said, going upstairs and stuffing Mary's ring into my pocket for later. No sooner had I arrived in our sitting room than an urgent telegram arrived for me from one of my long-term patients who had suddenly taken a turn for the worse, and I was obliged to hurry out.
I did not return home until the early hours of the morning, after a long vigil at my patient's side. I had promised the woman's family that I would return as soon as I was able, yet was so exhausted that I was barely able to change out of my clothes before collapsing into bed. The next morning I awoke after barely enough sleep, stopped only long enough to take a buttered roll with me and say a quick good morning to Holmes before hurrying out again.
After three days, I was sure my patient was out of danger and I arrived back in Baker Street, looking forward to some much-needed rest. "I trust all is well?" Holmes asked from the settee, where he was reclining with his pipe and the agony column.
"At last," I said with relief. "And you? Is your case completed to your satisfaction?"
"It is, though now that it is over I find myself once again in the unenviable position of having no work, no problem to occupy me," he said. "If I am fortunate, one will present itself soon."
I heartily agreed, for I knew what my friend was like with no crime to occupy his attention. Then I remembered Mary's ring and hurried upstairs. I had been so busy with my patient that I had not seen Mary in that time and had to postpone my proposal until I could plan the perfect moment for it. But at least I should be able to ask Holmes to be my best man. I entered my room, only to realize that I did not remember where I had placed the box. I searched in my armoire, on my nightstand, on my sideboard, finding no trace of the small box. In the beginning of a panic, I threw open my drawers and rummaged through my clothes, finding nothing resembling a ring box. What could I possibly have done with it?
I stood there in a state of confusion for a moment before it occurred to me that I lived with the foremost detective in the country, if not the Empire, and that he, of all people, should be able to help me. I hurried down the stairs. "Holmes!" I cried.
"Whatever is the matter?" Holmes asked, leaping up at the sight of me. I must have looked as if something truly terrible had happened, and knowing him, he no doubt assumed that someone had broken into my room and tried to attack me.
"It is not all that serious," I said. "In fact, I am sure it will be easily resolved. Before I was called away to my patient, I had got an engagement ring for Mary."
"Really?" Holmes said, smiling and coming forward to wring my hand. "Congratulations, my dear fellow! When are the nuptials to be?"
"I - oh, thank you, Holmes - well, never, if I do not resolve this problem," I said. "You see, I left so quickly three days ago that I cannot remember at all where I put the ring! If I do not find it, well, I don't know what I shall do." My shoulders slumped despondently. The ring had not been overly expensive, but neither had it been cheap and I could not afford another, especially not when that one was so well suited for Mary.
"Well, whatever are we waiting for?" Holmes cried. "The game is clearly afoot. Now, you must tell me everything you did from the time you purchased the ring. As best you can remember."
"Well," I said. "I took a cab back to Baker Street but I had it when I returned, because the first thing I did was show it to Mrs. Hudson."
"Excellent," Holmes said, the expression that made him look so like a bloodhound on the chase appearing in his keen eyes. "And then?"
"Well, I followed her into the kitchen," I began, and Holmes immediately leaped up and hurried down the stairs. I believe he startled the maid extremely when he barged in on the kitchen and began opening all sorts of cabinets and examining the counters until he finally determined that the ring was not here.
"What did you do after that?" Holmes asked.
"Well, I went upstairs. Mrs. Hudson told me you were out so I was going to spend time with my medical journals until you returned, only then I got the telegram calling me to my patient." I gasped. "Holmes, I had entirely forgotten! I had it in my pocket the entire time I was with my patient. I did not return until early the next morning."
"Now we are close," Holmes said. "What did you do with those clothes?"
"Well, I barely remember, I was so tired," I said. "But I believe I simply left them in a pile on my chair in my room." This was one of my own slovenly habits that even Holmes, bohemian as he was, could not abide. "But they were not there this morning. I am positive about that."
"Begging your pardon, Doctor," the maid said. "But I took those clothes to be washed two days ago. Mrs. Hudson asked me to."
I looked in horror at the large pot boiling on the fire, sure that Mary's ring had ended up melted in the heat. Perhaps I could at least save the diamond, I thought morosely, before Holmes asked, "And where do clothes go, before they are actually washed?"
"In the cellar, sir," the maid said. "To be sorted before we wash them on Monday."
"Thank you," Holmes said. "It is not yet Monday, Watson; perhaps a search of the cellar will reveal your missing ring."
I did not believe I had ever been in the cellar of our Baker Street rooms before and I looked in amazement at the neat shelves full of preserves and extra pots. It was no small wonder that Mrs. Hudson continually bemoaned both Holmes's and my messy habits, as she was so well organized. "Here, Watson," Holmes said, pointing out several baskets of laundry yet to be washed. I began searching through what appeared to be trousers and waistcoats, finding nothing, and turned to the next basket. I had barely touched it before stepping back in embarrassment. "What is it?" Holmes asked. "Come, we must search through everything!"
"But Holmes," I said. "Those are Mrs. Hudson's-" my face grew warm as if on fire and I lowered my voice, even though we were alone in the cellar. "-pants."
Holmes was never one to observe social niceties, and began searching through the offending basket. "Holmes, it is unlikely the ring is even in there," I said, trying to stop him.
"Until you have eliminated the possibility entirely, the theory may still be true," Holmes said, which I took to mean that we would have to search through all of Mrs. Hudson's pantalettes to determine that my ring had not fallen among them. I hoped desperately she would never find out about this, but my hopes were dashed barely two minutes later when Mrs. Hudson herself came down the cellar steps, only to look horrified when she saw us.
"Mr. Holmes! What are you doing searching through my-my-" our estimable landlady appeared so shocked as to not be able to form words, and for his part, I had never seen Holmes stand up straight so quickly, nor look so thoroughly ashamed of himself.
"We were merely trying to solve a case that has come my way, Mrs. Hudson," Holmes said, attempting his usual imperious tone. This failed miserably, as it is nearly impossible to maintain such a tone after being caught searching through one's landlady's pants. I could only stand back and admire the attempt, my face burning warm enough to light up the whole cellar.
"A case?" Mrs. Hudson asked. "What case could possibly require this?" She crossed her arms expectantly, and Holmes glanced towards me, his expression seemingly desperate for help.
"I, er, seem to have misplaced the ring I bought for Miss Morstan," I said. "I do apologize, Mrs, Hudson, only we were sure it must have ended up in the laundry and were trying to find it."
Mrs. Hudson, in response, fairly stomped towards me, pulling something out of her apron pocket. "I've been holding onto this for the past two days, only you've hardly been home in all that time," she said. "I found it when the maid brought me your washing two days ago and if you had asked me-" here she gave a rather dark look at Holmes, "-instead of searching through my washing I would have told you."
"Mrs. Hudson, you are a saint," I burst out. "Thank you, thank you very much!" I took the box back and inspected the ring, no worse the wear for having been discarded so callously with my clothes and brought down in the washing. Our landlady gave us one last look that told us we had best leave the cellar as quickly as possible, and we hastily retreated into our room.
"Well," Holmes said. "I expect we shall have nothing but cabbage soup for the next week."
"Probably," I agreed. "Thank you for helping me search for it, Holmes. Though I am sorry I got you in trouble with Mrs. Hudson."
Holmes waved a hand. "Trouble with landladies is nothing new to me. Mrs. Hudson shall forgive us in time." Mrs. Hudson was, indeed, most forgiving of our faults as tenants. "Now, Watson, may I offer you proper congratulations? Miss Morstan is indeed a lucky woman."
A far cry from his initial reaction to my proposing to court Miss Morstan, but a welcome one. "Thank you, my dear Holmes," I said, then noticed the time. "Perhaps, in light of our indiscretion, we should dine out for lunch?"
"A capital idea, my dear fellow," Holmes said, taking his hat and stick and following me out the door.