Prompt from sirensbane: Watson can't go on a case, and Mary goes instead.
"It'll be the bay, the one with the white forelock," Mrs Mary Watson pointed in the direction of the racehorses.
"Surely, the tall white one, with his muscular hind legs is the strongest," Holmes countered.
Mary grinned. The starting shot rang out and the sound of pounding hooves churning turf eclipsed the conversation.
"There he is!" she pointed to the squirrel-faced man in the sport's jacket dashing opposite the crowd of spectators.
The two sprinted in pursuit.
"Holmes, stop," she panted. "We'll never catch him at this rate."
"Keep trying," he hissed with an impatient grimace.
With a sigh, Mary stood her ground and took out a revolver. She aimed. "At least duck," she shouted to his retreating back.
The detective instinctually veered sideways - just in time.
A shot rang out.
The pub's wooden sign tumbled sideways into the bucket under the gutter, which tipped over spilling water on the maid sweeping below. She screamed and swung her broom just as their quarry swerved to avoid the ruckus. He slipped on the slick wet cobblestones and tumbled headlong. The bucket crashed down on his head.
Holmes caught up seconds later to apprehend the now soggy thief.
Back at the raceway, Mary gave Holmes a smile as she collected her winnings.
"Where did you learn to shoot like that?" the detective asked Mary with new admiration.
"I grew up in India. One learns a few things I suppose," she shrugged. With a laugh, she continued, "I also learned how to tell the difference between a well-built racing horse and an overfed thoroughbred."
"Touché." Holmes nodded good-naturedly. "You have been an invaluable help on this case. Thank you."
~o~
"I'm sorry I couldn't accompany you earlier," Watson sipped a brandy. "The recent influx of croup is keeping me tied up at the surgery."
"Your wife proved an invaluable assistant instead." Holmes let loose another reflective puff from his pipe. "She is a remarkable woman."
Watson's expression softened. He smiled. "Yes, I am a lucky man."
As wreaths of smoke swirled around the detective, he nodded. "Undoubtedly." His lips quirked upward ever so slightly, "she has an eye for a good man - and, a good horse."