Prompt from V Tsuion: Get your head in the game!

An Unexceptional Case

One of the more minor cases in which Sherlock Holmes chose to involve me took place shortly before Christmas in 1890. I had done with my rounds for the day and was heartily glad to return to my practice, as there was considerable accumulation of snow. After paying the cabman, I entered to find that my waiting room held a lone occupant seated beside the stove, which was burning low. At sound of the door, this occupant looked up and I was pleased to see my old flatmate, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

"Watson! How good to see you," said he, standing as I pulled the door closed.

"Holmes!" I cried in greeting. "Good of you to come by. I hope this is not a professional call."

"It is, of a sort," he said, a thin smile gracing his lips. "Rather more in my line than yours."

"I thought as much," I said and bade him follow me to my consulting room. Once he was installed in the most comfortable chair and fortified with a snifter of brandy, I asked what had brought him from Baker Street.

"A brief consultation with Bradstreet, actually," he said, leaning back to cross his right ankle over his left knee. "It is quite minor and not much of a mystery. The difficulty is finding the culprit."

"That does sound like your sort of business, Holmes," said I. "How can I help?"

"Allow me first to sum up the case. Two nights ago, a publican near the Shadwell Docks summoned the police to put down what amounted to a general brawl," said Holmes. "Nothing unique about such an event. Normally the bobbies would enter with their truncheons and settle the matter with brute force and a night behind bars. This time, there was a complication. A stabbing had taken place."

"Fatal?" I asked.

"Not immediately, though it was severe the victim's recovery remains in doubt."

"Is that why Bradstreet was called in?"

"Yes." Holmes sipped his brandy and went on, "The difficulty arises due to the bobbies being primarily interested in stopping the brawl rather than apprehending the brawlers. Three men with batons can clear a room rather quickly, you can imagine. Especially when one of them is our old friend Sergeant Harper."

"Harper?" I guffawed in good humor, imagining that titan of a man laying about him with a length of oak. I once witnessed him kick a wooden door clean from its hinges and send it flying across a room. "What happened, Holmes?"

"I am sure it will come as no surprise that a fair few of the drunken louts chose the better part of valor and fled the public house, leaving the bobbies in command of the field." At this, Holmes leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees and looked me in the eye. "One that remained had been stabbed."

"I see," said I. "This would be the one whose recovery is in doubt."

"Just so," said Holmes, sitting upright once more.

"As crimes go, I do not understand your interest," I said.

"The crime itself does not interest me. It is too commonplace. Bradstreet, though, asked for my help in identifying the assailant. He has little to work with, I am afraid."

"But there is something, else you would not be here."

"Correct."

"And you would not be here if I could not be of service. Yet, you already stated this was more in your line than mine, so I must conclude it is not my medical knowledge you seek to utilize."

"Watson! You scintillate!" Holmes quaffed down the last of his brandy, a pleased smile upon his usually reserved countenance.

"I am afraid that is as far as my reasoning takes me, Holmes," said I, taking his glass and refilling it. "What do you need?"

"You are a sportsman more than I am, Watson."

"I suppose so. I played rugby and cricket. How does this relate?"

"The brawl began over a game of darts. It seems a member of one team was paying too much attention to one of the servers. A young woman of comely appearance. Perhaps due to this distraction, he was not throwing as well as his partner would have liked. His partner used the phrase 'Get your head in the game.' I wondered if you had ever heard this phrase in the context of sport."

"The meaning is plane enough," I said.

"It is, but I am interested in the origin," Holmes replied.

"It does not sound English." I shook my head. "I would suggest it is an American saying, Holmes. It has that quality."

"I thought so, too," he said, nodding in satisfaction.

"Does that help solve the case?" I asked.

"It certainly narrows things down, Watson," said he. "The public house in question caters mostly to sailors. As you know, the London docks welcome ships of most every nation on a daily basis. Currently, there are two merchant ships from the United States. One made port three days ago and the other arrived this morning. Clearly, the latter is of no interest in this matter. The former, I believe, is home to our assailant."

"How can you say that?"

"The man who was stabbed, a sailor out of Dundee, and his partner were throwing against the man who spoke the phrase. It also appears that the man who was stabbed had an understanding with the comely young woman that had proved so distracting. He took exception to the attention she was being given. The disagreement became heated, a knife flashed and then began the general brawl. The Scotsman's partner remained in the establishment, attempting to stanch the blood. Their opponents fled. The owner of the establishment is certain he can identify the assailant. If you and I are correct, that assailant is most probably aboard the American merchantman. Bradstreet needs to act quickly, before the ship sails lest the perpetrator escape."

Holmes departed soon thereafter, promising to visit again when there was no case pending. Bradstreet, after some difficulty, was able to bring his man to justice. Fortunately, the wounded Scotts sailor recovered from his wound and thus ended a rather unexceptional case.

AN: I am by no means certain that the phrase 'Get your head in the game.' originated in the United States or that it was either unknown or uncommon in the British Empire in the 19th Century, like Watson and Holmes, I feel the phrase has an American quality to it.