Prompt: Absence (Wordwielder)
The prompt felt like it called for something moody, and I ended up interpreting it in a few different senses.
It was late morning when we at last disentangled ourselves from the bed, and by the time I had dressed, Holmes had already gone on some allegedly brief errand, leaving me to ring for breakfast. My mind felt clearer for the morning's rest, but my muscles badly ached—perhaps it was age, but if so, I wondered when I had last been young.
I had moodily begun on the toast when Holmes made his return with a spry step. He threw himself into the chair beside me and put some food on his plate for good measure, but his rapid thoughts were plainly already chasing down another avenue, and I longed to be swept up with him, even as my arm protested at the mere effort of eating.
"A note came from Inspector Lestrade while we were otherwise occupied," he explained between hasty bites. "It appears Mr. Marcus has given him the slip, and as we are already in the vicinity, he has called upon our services."
"What do you intend to do?" I asked with some eagerness.
"The question, my dear Watson, is what you will do."
"I am no detective," I insisted.
Holmes dismissed it, "You know my methods, I am certain you will be able to glean as much from Mr. Marcus's lodgings as I, while I attend to other errands."
"No," I said more vehemently than I expected, "I have tried to investigate in your stead before and I have always failed to truly replicate your methods."
Holmes answered with some impatience, "You underestimate yourself, Watson, that is your only weakness. I know my deductions no longer surprise you, you merely hesitate when you are called upon to come to conclusions on your own behalf."
I pushed away from the table. "I appreciate that you are attempting to encourage me, but I am less a detective than I am a doctor, and in truth I have hardly been either."