Prompt: Abroad, from SheWhoScrawls
It is a capital mistake to theorize before one is in possession of the facts, so when faced with a prospective case I often had to force my mind onto other subjects until I was able to ascertain the complete particulars. Watson, incidentally, is excellent at assisting me to do this, for he has never badgered me to explain anything until I am ready, and is quite happy to follow any line of conversation I should choose in the meantime.
If one must have a companion, surely one who is skilled at silence is ideal. Though I know I am being unfair, for Watson has many skills I have come to value. Why, I once thought it a trial to carry on a conversation even with Mycroft for longer than an hour, and there are times I am surprised to find that Watson and I have whiled away entire afternoons of six or seven hours in conversation. I do hope he will be able to accompany me, as I remembered my latest client came to me from Rome. I have become quite used to having him beside me.
On hearing Watson's tread on the stairs, I took up the coal scuttle to offer him a cigar. "Incidentally, my dear Watson, do you have any objection to accompanying me to Rome?" I asked as he set down his hat and medical bag.
Watson, in his usual way, did not seem to find this question odd. "Today, Holmes?" he asked, as if it was perfectly natural that we should go off to Italy with no preparation.
"Tomorrow, rather. I have been offered a case by a wealthy Italian businessman who is anguished about the loss of some prize statues from his private collection," I said.
Watson looked rather impressed, though I am not sure why. "You are moving up in the world," he said. "Congratulations."
I scoffed at this. "One wealthy businessman is much the same as any other, regardless of what country they call home. I have helped enough of our English breed of businessman and I doubt the Italian one shall be any different. But the case does have several factors of interest, most notably that the statues have been found smashed on the streets outside."
"Why should any thief do such a thing? I assume we are talking about Classical sculpture, or else the work of the Renaissance masters. Surely they would fetch a great price on the black market?" Watson asked.
"Precisely," I said. "Furthermore, the works are all too old for anything of value to be hidden within them. It promises to be an interesting case and we shall have the hospitality of our wealthy host. Are you coming, Watson?"
"Well, Holmes, I would very much like to," Watson said. "I have never been to Italy, and I have always wanted to see it. St. Peter's, the Coliseum, the Forum." A dreamy look entered his eyes, and I was sure he was imagining all the great events of the Roman Empire that he had undoubtedly drank in as a boy at school. I suppose I learned them too, though by now I have certainly erased all memory of them from my brain-attic. That is hardly useful information.
"This is not a holiday, Watson," I warned him. "We are on a case, much as we would be here in London. There will not be time for sightseeing." My dear Watson has the extraordinary ability to find the picturesque and romantic in every location I have seen him in. Heaven knows what he would be like in Rome.
"Yes, of course, Holmes," Watson said. "I cannot remain long away from my position in any case." Though he did look most disappointed; perhaps I can make sure we at least see the Coliseum. He will be most dejected the entire time if I do not.
"I believe, Watson, I may have found a police force more imbecilic than Scotland Yard," I groused. "I find it impossible to believe that no official police force could have solved that. It was entirely simple. Anyone could have figured it out!"
"Only no one else did figure it out. You did, Holmes," Watson said. We were walking along the crowded, messy streets of Rome after I had solved the case in a mere two days. It was a very simple matter of an affair with a serving girl who had become jealous and destroyed the one thing she knew was precious to her employer - his statues. I hardly needed to leave London for something this trivial. "Though it is unfortunate the railroad could not exchange our return tickets so we could leave earlier," Watson said.
That was entirely my fault. I had booked our return tickets for a week after our arrival, thinking we were to be engaged on a case of interest. Now we would be stuck here for the next five days, and the prospect did nothing to cheer me. Without a case, I could at least have worked at my chemistry experiments, written one of the many monographs I was planning, or at least practiced my violin. But all my usual pastimes were currently in London, of absolutely no use while I was in Rome. That in itself did nothing to lift my mood. The city was so completely different from London, in light, sounds, atmosphere, that I felt quite adrift. I did not even know my way around the Eternal (Infernal?) City.
It occurred to me that I had not been paying attention to where we were, and sure enough, we were indeed lost. "Watson, you don't happen to know where we are, do you?" I asked. I should have spent time studying the maps of Rome until I knew it as well as I knew London. Never mind that the city appeared to be a confusing mess of side streets and alleys that put London to shame.
"Not at all," Watson said, though he seemed remarkably cheerful about this. I looked askance at him, and he smiled. "One of these shops must surely sell maps. We shall simply have to find our way back." He was, of course, used to my exact knowledge of London, and was undoubtedly trusting me to lead us back safely to our host's villa. I wonder when it was he began trusting me so completely that he stopped being aware at all of his surroundings.
"I suppose so," I said. "I do not like not knowing where I am. Besides, it is altogether too crowded and noisy here." The sounds of London, while loud, were entirely different.
Watson chuckled. "You should take a visit to Bombay, old fellow. Now there is a crowded city. This feels quite open in comparison."
We walked on, until the tiny alleys spilled out onto one of the piazza that seemed strewn haphazardly all over the city. I wondered vaguely which one this was and if I could find our way back from it when Watson tapped my arm. "Holmes, look," he said. "It is the Pantheon."
I turned around to see a large, domed building with columns and an inscription declaring it the work of some Roman emperor. "It is right in the middle of the city," I said in some surprise.
"They say you cannot walk in Rome without coming across something ancient," Watson said. "But, never mind, Holmes. We can find our way from here." He somehow managed to find the only other Englishman in the entire vicinity and after a few moments conversation, returned with a smile. "I have got us directions to the Coliseum. It is the only major landmark I could think of, but you know where our host's villa is from there, Holmes, don't you?"
"Yes," I said. "It is not very far. Lead on, Watson."
We soon emerged into more open area around the Coliseum, and I suppressed a sigh of relief. I should make a study of all major European cities, so that I shall know where I am as easily as I do in London no matter where I am. I began to set off for our host's villa when I saw Watson look longingly at the Coliseum, though he seemed to be attempting to hide it from me.
I turned back around. "It is a trifle early to return to our host's," I said.
Watson smiled broadly and immediately took my arm to lead me toward the Coliseum. We joined the throngs of people looking around and began to climb up the seats. "They just allow anyone to climb it?" I asked. "Isn't this a very old structure?" I had the idea that it should be better preserved if no one was allowed on it, not to mention that it might not be entirely stable anymore.
"It has stood for nearly two thousand years, Holmes. I am sure it will be fine," Watson said. He gestured out at the center of the building. "It would have been covered in a sand pit for the games, of course. What we see is what was underneath. That is where the gladiators and animals for the games were kept. I suppose the prisoners too."
"Prisoners?" I asked, my interest piqued.
"Yes, Holmes. You know they executed criminals in public here," Watson said. "In gruesome ways, too. Some were forced to fight trained gladiators to the death, other ripped apart by animals. Quite barbaric."
"I imagine to the condemned man, whether his death is by hanging or by lion matters little," I said. Watson looked out at the scene before us, and I could tell he was no longer seeing the decrepit ruin in front of us, but what it must have looked like two thousand years ago, filled with spectators and a fight about to begin. There are times I envy Watson his imagination; for it seems merely to enhance his life instead of drive him out of his mind as mine does when not occupied.
"Imagine such a civilization falling into dust," Watson mused. "Only these traces of them left."
"They do not seem to me to have much to recommend them," I said. "I much prefer a concert to a gladiatorial contest, myself."
Watson chuckled. "So do I, Holmes. Yet they ruled most of their world."
"As we do now," I said.
"Yes," Watson said. "You don't suppose we shall meet the same fate, do you? All empires fall."
"I suppose there will come a time when the world's power is centered elsewhere than London," I said. "It hardly matters to me."
On emerging from the Coliseum, Watson pointed out yet another group of ruins just across the street. "There is the Forum, Holmes," he said. "The very center of Rome's government." He began walking toward it so I had no choice but to follow him, and soon we were walking through what was left of the buildings. "Here is the Senate chamber. Cicero, Caesar, they all made their speeches here." He stood on the entrance to what had been the Senate chamber. "Caesar was murdered here." He looked at me as though this should be of interest to me, though I only laughed.
"Come, Watson, that is a murder that was easily solved. Even I know that his assailants attacked him in broad daylight and bragged openly of the deed." Hardly the best murderers, though such braggadocio was common in political assassinations. The consequences of such an act were rarely prison, and very often resulted in the murderers ascending to the very same office the victim had held.
Still, as Watson explored the ruins of the Forum he seemed to be enjoying himself very much, and I considered that this sort of aimless sightseeing I had always abhorred was not so unpleasant after all, at least, if there were interesting sights and one was in good company. Perhaps it would not be such a bad thing to expand beyond England. One never did know where the most interesting crimes should occur, and it would be a mistake to limit myself. Though I should have to find some way of convincing Watson to accompany me, though if this trip was any indication, he would be happy to.
When at last the sun began to set, I took Watson's arm to lead him back to our host's villa. "I daresay we shall have enough time tomorrow to view St. Peters," I said, and could not help returning his surprised smile. No, it was not so very unpleasant to be on holiday after all.
A/N: The inscription on the Pantheon actually declares it the work of Agrippa, who was not an emperor, but then Holmes would have deleted that from his brain-attic :)