Thank you all readers, who actually did read this far. (and I hope at least one of you did)

Chapter 4: mercy

"I'm sure you do not have any schedule upon your hands today. Why don't you make your way to Windsor right away?" I ask in a curious tone. This was surely an interesting case, and I expected the man to rush down immediately like a hound on the scent, trying to sniff up its prey. But instead he was sitting here, his eyes close, puffing his pipe and humming the same sad tune that he played last night.

"My dear Watson," said he. "Patience is a virtue, and timing is everything. There is no point of us rushing in now. Sure, I would love to get my hands on some more data as soon as I can, but I'm just waiting for the time." Even as he said that, I could see that even he was impatient for the time of our departure. Soon after, he started marching around the room, his chin pressed to his chest, mumbling something to himself. Once in a while he will look at his clock, check outside the window as if he was waiting for something to come.

"Watson, what do you make out of this case?" he finally asked. "We might have heard the same story, and went through the same data, but we have different imagination. Sometimes, imagination is all that one needs to solve a case. Now let me hear what you think of this case."

"It sure is a curious one. I could not imagine how one would manage to bring a dog that would easily have weighed ninety pounds and boy who might be struggling at the same time. The guilty party ought to be someone of a great strength. But why bring the dog in the first place? I am sure he was after the child, not the mongrel. And also, what are the lines that they left behind?" said I, arranging my thoughts and questions as they came.

"Excellent, Watson, excellent!" he cried in an excited tone. "You seem to be improving greatly. You gave the right question. How would one manage to carry out a struggling boy and a dog who weighs ninety-pounds? And why? This are all question soon to be answered in our trip. And as for the lines, I have a fairly good idea what they are from. It seems like the telegram I was suspecting is not coming." He said glancing at his watch. It was almost quarter to three.

"Telegram?" I ask. "From whom, may I ask?"

"Well, no other than Mrs. Clifton herself. But it looks like I was mistaken. We better hurry now, or we would not make it to Windsor in time. The next train will leave by three." With that we grabbed out coats and hats, I my stick, and made out way to the train. Within ten minutes, we were sitting on a comfortable sit, heading to Windsor. The train flew past the landscapes as my companion quietly sat there with his eyes closed, his pipe still puffing.

The silence encouraged me to forget about the mysterious disappearance of the boy and the dog for a while, and drift away from thoughts to thoughts. Then I finally remembered the night before, or rather this early morning, where I woke up due to the gentle press against my forehead. I had forgotten it due to all the rather exiting turn of events, and now that I had no better thing to do, I wondered greatly what it was. It was probably Holmes, but what part of him? By no means was it his hand, for I perfectly knew how his long fingers and ink stained palm feels after all those time it held me back from excusing myself from his clients. Though they too were soft, warm yet a bit rough, there was something different about it.

My eyes scanned my companion, looking for the part that touched me for such a short moment; his hands to start with, then his sharp eyes, his cheeks, his nose, and finally his lips. I never noticed his lips before. The way it was held against his pipe, how it was a bit cracked after the countless restless nights and abused cocaine use. I never knew that his lips were such a pail shade, just like the rest of he was. Then it struck me, 'was it his lips that gently pressed against my forehead?' in other words did he kiss me? Just as those unspeakable thoughts crossed my mind, Holmes opened his eyes, surprising me.

"What is it, Watson?" he asked. His voice rang in my head and I almost could see myself blush with embarrassment. How could I ever think of such thoughts! I am to wed Mary in a few weeks and here I am wondering if my friend had sneaked up to kiss me in the middle of the night.

"Oh, nothing." I said with an awkward chuckle. "Pray do pardon me if I disturbed your thoughts."

"If one does not wish to tell me, by all means, I respect your privacy." He said, reading right trough me. Alas, I was completely at his mercy. If he would please, I believe he could know right away my thoughts. "But if you are curious about something, pray do just ask, and I would answer with all honesty."

Before I could think of a response, the train came to a halt and our journey to Windsor was over. Holmes stood up and made his way out with such eagerness, leaving me behind, lost in thoughts and worry. I was sure that he knew what I was thinking about.