Hi everyone! Well, hello to the one or two of you left still reading this story that is. lol
I have recently discovered "Wire in the Blood" – which is a brilliant brilliant show! Robson Green is a total hunk-of-spunk sigh and today I watched "Dirty Dancing 2 – Havana Nights" which was soo good! Better than the original. Diego Luna…Too many distractions! Must…study…
Anywho, here is the next chapter (where once again, nothing much really happens.) Enjoy!
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"I'm not sure what you're thinking Holmes, but it seems to me we are back at square one." I said downheartedly. Holmes' brows furrowed in a look of deep concentration as he stared intently ahead. One could only imagine what he was pondering? Thoughts streaming through his mind at break-neck speed on how he would crack this case.
Holmes stopped suddenly and pulled out his pocket watch "I do believe it is time for lunch" Holmes said rather casually. Had he been paying any attention to me whatsoever, or to the results – if you could call them 'results' of our visit to Ms Huntington?
"Holmes, I don't see how you can be thinking of food at a time like this!" I exclaimed irritably. Sometime Holmes could be quite inconsiderate. He turned to me and frowned, "What ever do you mean Watson? It's after one o'clock."
I was quite disappointed by the careless disregard Holmes appeared to show towards this case – one that was very important to me, involving one of my oldest and dearest friends.
Holmes took notice of my disheartened expression and he placed a hand on my shoulder "this case means a great deal to you, doesn't it Watson?"
"You should know, being the great Sherlock Holmes" I replied dryly. Holmes was taken aback by my tone. "Watson, I promise you my focus is entirely on this case, you needn't worry about that." I forced a smile, and we continued walking.
In my heart of hearts I was sure he meant it. So why did it not feel genuine? He couldn't be stumped by this case - although we had no leads so far, we have faced many cases harder than this one, that I am sure of. Although, unless my imagination was playing tricks on me, Holmes didn't seem his usual sharp self lately. Was there something gnawing at him, distracting him?
After a quick bite to eat, it seemed part of my question was to be answered as Holmes gingerly rubbed his temples. "What's the matter" I asked with concern. "Watson, I have a splitting headache. You don't mind if we head back to Baker Street a little early, do you?" He asked. "Of course not." I said as I picked up my coat. So we took a hansom cab back to Baker Street. Upon entering, Mrs. Hudson appeared, holding an envelope. "A young lady dropped this off only a moment ago. She said to tell you that she "would not be able to live with herself if the culprit was still at large", and apologized for not being more forthcoming earlier. My my, what's this all about?" Mrs. Hudson asked, curiosity gleaming from her eyes. I shared a look with Holmes "Oh, nothing of great importance. Thank you Mrs. Hudson" I replied enigmatically, taking the envelope before she could utter another word.
Holmes sat down at the dining table, resting his forehead on his hands. "Go ahead Watson" he said. My eyes scanned the note "it's a complete list of those who attended the dinner party" I exclaimed "Oh, this is a marvelous start." I was feeling rather optimistic at this point. Holmes, always one for cheer, replied "It may prove to be a dead end you know Watson. Don't get your hopes up just yet" he sighed heavily. "Blasted headache" he muttered miserably. "Here", I said, handing him a steaming cup of tea "go take something and lie down for heaven's sake" I decided to spend a few moments studying the list. At closer inspection of the list, I realized I knew at least half the guests. Well, by reputation at least.
Meanwhile, Holmes decided to take something for his headache – but not what I would have recommended. Not in a million years. I knew what he was doing. I could hear him rummaging through the files in the study for the solution of cocaine. I wish he'd stay clear away from that dreadful substance. If he would only realize the bad it could and would do to him.
A small sigh of relief indicated to me that I had not hid it well enough. The last I heard from Holmes for that afternoon was the muted closing of his bedroom door.
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Back to the studying.