Fathers and sons (chapter 1)
Holmes sighed as he took the bundle of letters that lay under a layer of dust. He dropped them on the table were the doctor was consuming his breakfast, causing the soft grey powder to fly all over his toasts and eggs. Watson coughed and tossed them to the floor.
"If you don't mind, Holmes, next time you decide to have a look at your mail, please do it far from my breakfast!"
"Watson, you are really impossible in the early morning!" the detective replied tiredly. He was bored and had not left his room for the entire week, smoking and laying all day on the couch.
"You should get out of here, you need fresh air. Do you want to come with me today? I have some patients to see but I am not so busy…" he suggested.
"I am not interested in old men complaining about their health…"
"That's unfair! They come to me because they need medical attention."
"Sure, whatever, Watson. Have it your way!"
Watson knew his mate needed something to keep his mind busy and he hoped he would had found a new interesting case in his mail. Since the dirty bundle was still on the floor, the doctor recollected all the sheets and letters and handed them to the detective, who was now sat by the window, looking the grey sky and people walking in the street. He noticed a telegram addressed to him, the date printed on it was of three days ago. It came from a solicitor, named Morgan Winter from Hawkesbury Upton. He had never heard of him nor of the place before. He would had reminded his mate the fact that, again, he had not advised him there was an important mail for him, but he let the matter drop for he was not in the good mood to argue with him. So he sat at the table and opened the telegram. There were just few words, saying that this Morgan Winter would had come to his apartment in Baker Street to talk to him about an inheritance on Wednesday afternoon, the 14th of March. So they were going to have company that afternoon. He broke the news to Holmes, who did not seem particularly interested, but accepted to join them.
The solicitor arrived at four o'clock. He was slim and tall, with cropped white hair, thin lips and piercing blue eyes; his long hands were smooth and immaculate; he was dressed in a dark grey suit and black leather shoes. His aspect denoted authority and self-confidence. He sat in the armchair in front of Watson and, after the usual exchange of pleasantries, he took out of his bag a dossier and handed it to the doctor.
"I came here to notify you your uncle Horace died one week ago in Hawkesbury Upton. He left you all his substances. He commissioned me to take you to the village and show you the property." He stated in a thin voice.
"I am sorry to inform you I have never heard of him before. My father had an older brother but I didn't know his name. I think something happened between them because he never spoke about him and when I asked him some questions, he always refused to answer me saying he was no more part of his life and I shouldn't had to be concerned about him. My father died four years ago. Maybe I saw him at the funeral but, as I said, I had never met him before and I probably wouldn't had recognized him, anyway."
The old man twist his nose and shut his lips in a sort of annoyed smirk. The doctor felt uneasy under his cold glare. He felt someway subdued by him.
"So you said my uncle has a property in Hawkesbury Upton. I bet it is a quiet place to live. Is it very far from London?" he asked then, since the man did nothing but stared at him.
"It is about three hours. By train." He replied drily.
"Is the property noteworthy?"
The solicitor made a face and answered that actually it was a magnificent property: there was a beautiful house surrounded by a wood and some other minor buildings, all encircled by a tall brick wall that separated the property from the village. Plus, there were lands and woods in the country.
Watson was surprised to hear that and he looked at Holmes with bright eyes. The detective, who had been silent since then, asked Winter what exactly was his mission and what the doctor should had to do now.
"I am staying in London for the rest of the week, if you want you can come with me when I leave on Saturday. I can show you the property and if you want you can stay for the night in the house. My mission, Mr. Holmes, was to inform Dr. Watson about his inheritance and offer him my services. That accomplished, I can leave you to your affairs. May I ask you to let me know if you are going to come to the village? I have some documents the doctor should sign, but we can do it once we are in my office." he replied in a sharp tone, clearly annoyed.
Before Watson could say anything else, he greeted them and left.
Once they were alone, they discussed the matter at their own way.
"I cannot believe you talked to him like you did. What's going on with you, Holmes?"
"Ah, please, Watson. Don't tell me you like him, because I saw how you looked him and you did not seem happy, instead rather scared by him."
"Since when my feelings for the solicitor are interesting you?"
"I am not interested in feelings, but we both did not like the man. And I was as polite as him, if polite is the right word. He did not seem interested in having a conversation with you, anyway."
"You are impossible, Holmes! I discover I own a beautiful house in the country with lands and woods and all you can do is insult the man who went to tell me on purpose from Wales?"
"Well, technically speaking, you don't own anything jet."
"I swear to you, if you don't stop to be so unnerving I would not take you with me to see the property."
"I am not leaving London."
"Are you saying I have to go alone with Winter? No way! I don't want to spent a three hours trip by train with him alone, plus all the time I will have him around while visiting the property. You have to come, Holmes!"
The detective smiled at him.
"Why this man affects you so badly?" he asked his mate softly, coming to sit near him on the couch.
"I don't know. It is just a feeling. I know you don't believe in those kind of things, but I don't know how to explain it better. That man is pure evil, his voice and his aspect, I cannot stand him. Did you see how he looked at me? I am sure he hates me…"
"I understand, Watson, don't worry about it."
"So are going to Hawkesbury Upton?" he asked.
"I need some fresh air, you said it yourself!".
Both men were just glad the tension that made them nervous the past days was fading away with this new perspective. Watson felt much better after the decision to leave the city together. He was happy to spent some time in the country, far from the grey atmosphere of London, with his detective. They sent a telegram to the solicitor and arranged things for their departure. Despite they did not trust the man, they trust each other and that was enough.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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