Prompt from W. Y. Traveler: Watson recalls a particular moment during his time in the army

Gamins

"I understand," Inspector Geoffrey Lestrade growled. "You should not have picked it up, though, Russell!"

At the sharp words, Dr. Watson looked up from his notes to peer across the room at the pair of Metropolitan men. Lestrade was clearly irritated with the younger uniformed man who towered over him. Watson frowned thoughtfully.

"Sorry Inspector," the younger man, Russell, said, his cheeks flushing in embarrassment. "I did put it back just as it was, sir."

"You're too eager," Lestrade grumbled. "No harm done this time, but you have to remember there are such things as fingerprints, Russell. And, you need to remember that you are not an inspector. Now go on back to the front door and see no one comes in."

Watson watched the young constable retreat rapidly from the room and then glanced at his old friend Lestrade. The inspector was shaking his head and writing something in his notebook. Watson crossed to him and stood silently a pace away until Lestrade looked up and gave a wan smile.

"Finished, Doctor?" the inspector asked.

"Yes," Watson confirmed, flashing his notebook to show his spidery shorthand. "Not much to it. The man was killed by at least three blows to the head."

"I thought so," Lestrade said and sighed. "Burglary gone wrong. Missing silver set and a bronze statuette. Weapon had to be that bit of firewood over there."

"Is that what the constable showed you?" asked Watson.

"Impertinent gamin," snorted Lestrade, shaking his head. "Wants to be an inspector. He's got the brains for the job, mind you. He has no discipline, though. Wanted to show me the hairs stuck on the end of the wood. As if I wouldn't find them myself."

Watson smiled softly. He had known young men like Russell. Once upon a time, Lestrade had been such a young man. Holmes had called Lestrade the best of a bad lot. A pang struck him at memory of his friend, gone nearly two years. He shook it off and another memory from much longer ago rose to his mind. A smiling, eager face and hands that seemingly could not stay still.

"Something funny, Doctor?" Lestrade asked.

"I was just recalling someone from my Army days," Watson said, his smile spreading into a small grin. "A young man not unlike your constable."

"Oh? Always under foot, was he?"

"At first," Watson said. "My orderly. He would interrupt me at inopportune moments. I would be writing a letter and he would want to sweep the floor. Or, I would be trying to study up on treatments for wounds in tropical regions and he would want to organize my kit. Always something to keep his hands busy. Said he got bored and wanted something to do."

"Ha! Russell has things to do only he wants something else to do," Lestrade said, tapping his pencil thoughtfully on his notebook. "He's not a bad, lad. Just too eager."

"I thought so of Murray, also," Watson said and smiled.

"Murray? Your orderly?"

"Yes." Watson nodded.

"What did you do about him, Doctor?"

Watson's grin returned and he said, "I focused his energies, Lestrade."

Lestrade laughed, his expression inquisitive.

"I gave Murray something to do," Watson explained. "Since he was my orderly, I gave him medical books to read. Of course, I could not know if he would understand them, but he read each one and asked for more. I was pleased to discover that within that skull of his, was a smart and adaptable mind."

Lestrade ran a finger back and forth on his upper lip, looking at the door through which Russell had gone.

"Well, he is smart enough," the inspector mused. "Wants to learn. No doubt about that."

"He just needs some focus, Lestrade," Watson said softly. "Needs some guidance. Not unlike a few young inspectors got from an old friend of ours, eh?"

Lestrade looked up sharply at that, brows raised. A moment passed and his expression softened.

"Can't deny we're better at our job for his lessons," he said, smiling warmly.

"You've all done well," Watson said.

The two friends stood quietly a moment and then Lestrade looked into Watson's eyes and asked, "What became of your orderly, Doctor?"

"Murray? He saved my life. Got me on a packhorse and all the way back to Kandahar. Bless him." Watson tucked his notebook into his pocket, a pleased expression suffusing his features. "He returned to England a few years ago with a medical discharge. Broke his leg and couldn't perform his duties properly, you see."

"What does he do now?"

"He earned a medical degree," Watson said approvingly. "He's become a successful veterinarian."

Lestrade turned his gaze back to the door and slowly nodded.

"He has the brains…" he mused. With a curt nod, the inspector strode to the door and called, "Russell! Come here."

The tall constable appeared almost instantly, a worried look in his eyes.

"I think it's time you learned a few things," Lestrade said, and waved the young man into the room.

Watson, smiling again, made his way out of the house, his heart lighter. Perhaps it would be a good time to send a letter to Murray. He had not caught up with him in months.