--Watson--

I had been scheduled to perform a minor procedure while Holmes was out gathering information. One of my patients on whom I had recently operated had incurred an infection at the surgery site and I needed to drain off some of the excess fluid and get him back on the way to recovering.

I expected it to be a short three hour procedure and I told Mrs. Hudson as much as I was leaving that morning. However, after a long time on the operating table as I was just starting to suture up the incision, my patient began to bleed excessively and I had to take an extra hour and a half to find the cause of the bleeding and cauterize the artery. For my patient's safety, I observed him for an hour to be certain that he would steadily improve, which he did.

I returned home, Mrs. Hudson greeting me in the foyer. "Hello, Mrs. Hudson," I said with a tired affect. "Could you bring up some black tea for me?"

"Certainly, Dr. Watson. You seem to have had a trying day," She said. I nodded with a weak grin. "Mr. Holmes dropped by and I told him you were in surgery."

"Oh thank you." I wondered if Holmes had made any progress on the case. I slowly went upstairs, my back aching from leaning forward in surgery for so many hours. I entered our silent, cluttered sitting area and all but fell upon a chair.

I must have fallen asleep because the very next thing that entered my awareness was Mrs. Hudson gently shaking me awake. "Doctor," she said, a tone of urgency in her voice. I shifted into a proper sitting position and blinked the exhaustion away from my eyes. "Doctor, did you find this note from Mr. Holmes? It sounds very important."

She handed me a small paper with my friend's handwriting upon it. "I am moving to stop another slaying taking place tonight at the church. I suspect you will arrive home by four o'clock. Your assistance is required at once. H."

I checked my pocket watch: 7:28. I couldn't help but think that if things had gone well he would have returned or sent word by now. Or, if seeing my absence, he may have called in Scotland Yard for assistance. Highly unlikely, I thought. Knowing Holmes, he had probably went after them single-handedly, and had very possibly gotten into trouble.

"Mrs. Hudson," I said, taking up my jacket and cane once again, "notify Inspector Lestrade and have him meet me at Reynolds Road Cathedral immediately."

I wasted no time in getting downstairs and hailing a cab. Please be safe, became my new mantra as my mind repeatedly fed me images of Holmes, murdered by the cult in some horrible and devilish ritual.

--

I stormed into the cathedral, looking for signs of debauchery as I passed the foyer and headed into the chapel. I nearly trampled over Father McKinn, who was walking toward his office.

"So good to see you, Dr. Watson," he said, as if he had been expecting me all day. "Will you be attending our service tonight, then?"

"Just what kind of service would that be?" I asked, not holding back my spite for the man's poking face.

"Our regularly Wednesday evening mass."

"Would you mind if I looked around?" I said. I was not asking. In fact, I was pushing the small man aside as the words came out of me.

"Are you looking for your friend, the detective?" asked McKinn, stopping me where I was. "He was here, but he left."

I studied the priest as he put his hands up in a gesture of innocence. His face gave nothing away. I was about to go back to my search of the building when I caught sight of three red spots on his white shirt cuff. I seized his arm where it was raised. "What is this? Blood!" I exclaimed. "Where is Holmes?"

Finally, I saw the little priest become shaken. He swallowed and his eyes grew worried. "It is only wine, Doctor. For the mass. Would you care for some?"

I threw his arm away from me. "I can see the guilt on your face, Father. What have you done with him?"

The innocence had returned to his expression. "I haven't done a thing, Doctor." He smiled cordially, warmly, even as my own expression had twisted into a silent threat of delivering serious harm to him.