Prompt: The first all-nighter, from Hades Lord of the Dead
After the conclusion of the Jefferson Hope case, some months after I had first taken rooms with Sherlock Holmes, he had not had many more cases of difficulty. In most instances, I recall, he had not had to leave our sitting room to bring a problem to its conclusion, and his clients invariably left in awe. Yet few seemed to send any further business his way, and it was thusly that I became acquainted with the black moods that plagued Holmes when he was not engaged on a case. I must admit I was disappointed, and not only on his account. Perhaps because I was bored with little to do during my recovery, but assisting Holmes on the Jefferson Hope case had been one of the most interesting events of my life, and I harbored a secret hope that if he should have another case as interesting he would ask me to accompany him. Though, of course, I had no right to expect it. This was, after all, his way of earning a living, while I was hardly recovered enough to act as assistant to a private detective. Even the Jefferson Hope case had stretched my limits to their utmost.
Yet, in the summer of 1881, as I made to disappear to my upstairs room as I usually did when Holmes was engaged in his work, he suddenly stopped me. "Pray remain, Doctor," he said. "I would like your input, for I think this case has the potential to be an interesting one."
"Of course, Holmes," I said, gratified to be asked. He quickly furnished me with the particulars of the case, which seemed a simple affair to me. The man in question suspected that someone was watching his wife at night while they slept, yet I knew that could hardly be all. Holmes would not have taken the case if there had not been some factor of interest.
"You are quite right, Watson," Holmes said, chuckling. "This case proves too difficult to solve from my armchair. We shall have to keep watch on my client's house tonight."
"You wish me to accompany you?" I asked.
"Certainly," Holmes said. "If you feel you are able, old fellow." He looked at me with what might have been called concern in another man, for it was true that my condition was not yet much improved from when I had first returned from Afghanistan. I, however, brushed this aside, for I was much more interested in Holmes's case than I was in my own recovery.
"I will be fine," I said. "I will bring my revolver, just in case," I added.
"Excellent," Holmes said. "My client lives some twenty miles out of London; we shall be able to take a train and have a leisurely meal before our watch begins." This is exactly what we did, and having not been out of London since my return, I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to the country. Holmes appeared faintly amused by my enthusiasm, until at last dusk settled and we approached his client's residence.
"Holmes," I asked. "Where are we to watch from?" I knew little about the art of detection, yet I had an idea from those novels I had read that we should remain unnoticed. The client's house was situated on a large property that had views of the surrounding countryside. There seemed little chance of our not being spotted.
Holmes smiled. "Our client knows we are here, and has pointed out a small greenhouse we may use," he said. He pointed out a small building on the side of the property. "You see it has a perfect view of the lady's bedroom as well as the front entrance?"
"Yes, indeed," I said. We made our way there silently, where the door of the greenhouse had been left open to us, undoubtedly by Holmes's client.
"The intruder usually appears sometime after midnight," Holmes said, crouching down underneath a table, while ensuring that he could still see.
The sun had only just barely set. "We are in for a long wait," I said.
Holmes smiled. "Yes. These nighttime watches are hardly my favorite. They can be very tedious."
My companion had such a peculiar reserve to him that it had taken me some months to learn to determine what he meant from what he said. I took this statement to mean that he had brought me along as company, rather than for my assistance with the case. Surely he could have conducted the watch alone; for he did not need me to determine whether an intruder was visiting the man's wife at night. Far from being insulted, I was strangely pleased. Perhaps my odd fellow-lodger enjoyed my company as much as I was beginning to enjoy his.
"It reminds me of sentry duty, in the army," I said, settling myself across from Holmes, under yet another table. It was most uncomfortable, though I tried not to complain. Surely Holmes, who was considerably taller than I, was in greater discomfort, having to force his frame to fit under the small table.
Holmes glanced at me, for I had rarely mentioned my army service, wanting to forget my disastrous time there. "Not that I ever was on sentry duty," I added. "Though I sat up often enough on medical watch."
"You have undoubtedly seen some action," Holmes said.
"Well, until Maiwand I actually saw very little," I said. "My regiment was rather removed from the larger Afghan campaign and spent much of our time on march. We did little other than set up camp and take it down again. Most of the men who I treated were suffering from disease. Enteric fever, as I had, malaria, venereal disease." I felt my cheeks warm at the last example, though I had treated many for such things, as men far from home do not often make the best decisions regarding their off-duty entertainments. "Even in the few skirmishes I did see before Maiwand, I mostly remained behind the lines, to await the wounded. Though I once removed a bullet from one man's neck, where he was most lucky it did not even graze his artery."
Holmes appeared impressed by this, which I had always counted among my finest moments (indeed, the only truly fine moment of my army service). "That is a useful skill, Watson," he said. "I must remember that in my profession, a bullet is always a distinct possibility. It is a rare detective who does not make dangerous enemies." He smiled.
"I shall count myself lucky to share rooms with so skilled a doctor."
I stared at him, incredulous at his reaction. "You cannot mean you expect to be murdered!" I asked in some horror.
Holmes laughed aloud, though he never took his eyes off the client's house, nor did they lose their keenness. "Relax, Watson. I have no plans to be murdered at present. But it is best to be prepared for all possible outcomes."
I relaxed somewhat, for not only was I worried for his safety, I was beginning to wonder if I had unwittingly placed myself in a dangerous situation by sharing lodgings with him. Then another thought occurred to me. "Holmes, I hope that in the unlikely event someone shoots you, you do not expect me to conduct surgery on you in our sitting room!" I exclaimed.
Holmes laughed again. "I assure you, Watson, in the event I am shot I will be quite content with the nearest hospital." He gave me a strange, sidelong look. "Though perhaps risks of that nature will be lessened if you continue to accompany me."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I take it you have brought your service revolver?" Holmes asked, and I assented. "I have already observed you are a better shot than I am, Watson. I shall have less to worry about if you are here watching my back."
He had not exactly observed my skill with a pistol, but had engaged me in a shooting competition in our sitting room, which I had won handily. I can only offer the excuse that we were both desperately bored that day. Holmes was not a poor marksman, but my Army training and practice meant that even with my injured shoulder, I hit the bullseye of a target more often than not. We sat in silence for a few moments, when I said, "I do hope you are planning to do more with your career than eventually be a target for murder." It seemed to me that his skills in the field of detection were unmatched, and though I had not known him long, I thought it very possible that he could rise to the very top of his profession.
"I have plans, Watson," he said. "Though it shall take some time to build up a reputation. At least now I have decent rooms in which to interview clients. Though I still must improve a great deal."
"You, improve?" I asked, for it seemed to me that he knew everything connected with crime that it was possible to know.
"Watson, what you have seen are mere trifles. My deductive powers are barely the surface of what I can use as a detective. I must study those specific fields of knowledge which are necessary for a student of crime, and above all, observe all that goes on in our Empire if I am to rise to the top."
My new friend was ambitious, certainly, though I believed wholeheartedly that he could, if he so chose, surpass either of the fictional detectives I had compared him to some months earlier. Though it did seem a tall order to know all that went on throughout the Empire and I said so.
"You are right, Watson," my companion answered. "Though I imagine it will surprise you if I tell you I have never yet left Europe. With so many people traveling from our shores across the world, to India, Africa, Canada, Australia and beyond, it does me a great disservice not to know those places as intimately as I know London. The solution to a problem might hinge on some spice I do not know of that comes only from Ceylon, or some specific pine leaf native to Vancouver."
"Well," I said. "I cannot help you with Canada, or Africa for that matter, but you know I know something of India, and I have also spent time in Australia. You may ask me anything you wish."
"You have been to Australia?" Holmes asked.
"Many years ago, when I was a boy," I said. "I imagine it has changed greatly since then."
Holmes looked at me with new interest. "You have hidden limits, Watson. I wonder if I shall ever plumb them. You must someday tell me more of your adventures in Australia. There have been some sensational crimes there."
"Yes, well, it is very lawless in some places-" I began.
"Hush, Watson, there is our man!" Holmes cried, interrupting me. I do not know how he determined anyone was outside, for the night was as black as ink, but as my eyes adjusted I soon saw the figure running toward the house. Though he was running toward a window toward the back of the house, not that of the wife's bedroom. "Are you ready, Watson?" Holmes asked.
I loaded my revolver, suddenly thrilled with the chase. "As you are, Holmes."