Fathers and sons (chapter 3)
The Sunday morning found Watson deeply asleep in the main bedroom of the house, buried under a shell of blankets, softly snoring, his blond head merely emerging out of the softness that enveloped him. He had had a troubled night because of the wine and of the conversation with Holmes at dinner the evening before; even if he was tired, he fell asleep only three hours after he went to bed. He did not hear the servant who entered his room to light the fire in the early morning. When he awoke, he indulged in his safe nest for some minutes before deciding to open his eyes. Still half asleep, he spotted Holmes sitting in one of the armchairs near the window. He yawned in his direction and the detective came to sit on the edge of the bed.
"Good morning Watson! Did you sleep well?" he greeted him sheepishly.
"M'ning Holmes! What are you doing in my room?" he asked, closing his eyes again and enjoying the warm of the blankets.
"Waiting for you to wake up, Old Man! It is already 10:30 and the sun is beautiful. I thought you would like to explore a little more your property with the day light."
"10:30! Holmes, why didn't you call me earlier?" the doctor replied, instantly awake.
"I thought you needed a few more hours of sleep, after your restless night."
Watson's expression was puzzled, he couldn't understand what his friend was referring to. He surely had had troubles in falling asleep, but then he slept like a baby, or so he thought.
"Don't you remember?" Holmes asked softly.
"I am sorry, no!"
"It was about four in the morning, I couldn't sleep so I stared at the window of my room when I heard you calling my name in near panic. You said there was something on the floor, I checked but there was nothing. I must admit you scared me a little. But then when I asked you what did you see, you were asleep."
"I am sorry, Holmes, I don't remember any of it. I suppose I was dreaming . I do that a lot, speaking in my sleep, I mean."
"I know that. Don't worry about it. I'll wait for you downstairs for breakfast."
After he left, the doctor opened the window to let the fresh nearly spring air cool the room, he washed and shaved and put on his best country suit and, satisfied by his appeal, he joined Holmes. They both appreciate their breakfast and complimented Wilson again for the wonderful service.
They spent the morning and most of the afternoon outside; they visited the garden and the wood just outside the house. Watson noticed that, even if nobody had done maintenance works in years, probably, there still was a certain mark in the way the trees had grown; that was even more evident in the garden they walked through the day before: the bushes of roses had grown wild and so the others flowers, among which he could recognized only a few plants of hydrangea; the paths of white gravels designed in the green grass were impinged by weed and dirt; there were drift of autumn leaves here and there; at the edge of the garden that bordered to the wood, many broken branches laid abandoned on the once green grass where the wind had dropped them. The wood was too entangled, because many young trees had grown up between the older ones; the bigger trees had not been cropped for years and, as a result, they branches had grown wild and many were broken because of the snow, but no one had thought about taking them away. Because of this reasons, it was impossible to walk in the wood, but the little road that started from the main entrance of the house and ended at the gate on the main street was practicable: it was about six hundred feet long; the branches of the bigger trees covered it as to form a natural tunnel that shielded the sun light. The tall brick wall that encircled the whole property, combined with the dark atmosphere of the wood, gave to the place an unpleasant sensation of isolation from the rest of the village. Once they arrived at the gate, they found out it was closed, again. Watson mentally took note to ask Wilson the key of the gate, so they could use the main entrance if they wanted to go out to the village, without using the secondary access that was not so comfortable. From their new perspective, they could now admire Uncle Horace's house, that was very well maintained, outside and inside, and that was a big contrast with the garden and the rest of the property: what surprised Watson most was the perfect symmetry in the arrangement of the windows that followed the profile of the pitched roof; each of them was formed by colored small squared panels decorated with figures and landscapes to form unique paintings of lights when the sun hit them. The walls were deep and freshly painted.
Watson moved his gaze away from the house and noticed, on the far right corner of the property, half covered by plants and half ruined, two small buildings that were probably used as warehouses or as stables. Watson tried to enter one of them, but found the roof had crumbled and the only access was blocked by rubbles. The other one was in better condition and he ventured inside, ignoring Holmes' protests. The floor was covered with wooden boards; he applied pressure on some of them to verify they would not broke under his weight and, that accomplished, he walked to the far corner of the room where there were old machinery. When he was half way, one of the wooden boards he walked on crumpled as he put his foot on it and he fell to the ground, with his right leg blocked in the hole that had formed in the floor, revealing a circular deep well about six feet large and God knows how many feet deep. Watson screamed for help and Holmes hurried at the his side immediately.
"Oh my God, Watson, stay still. I am gonna get you out of here!"
"I am not moving. Just be quick!"
Watson felt other boards cracking around him and so did Holmes. He had to get Watson out of that trap before he fell in the well. He lowered himself on the floor on his stomach, so to better distribute his weight on the floor, and reached for his friend's back and shoulders. He noticed the small tremors running through his body and his heavy breath.
"Watson, I am going to pull you towards the door. You just hold on my arms with your hands and try not to fight the movement. Do you understand?" the detective instructed.
"I-I understand… Just be careful, my leg is trapped and I can't get it out of the hole without crashing more boards…"
"Alright, you just stay still and while I pull you slowly, you just slide you leg out. Are you ready?"
Watson took a deep breath and nodded. Holmes slid his arms under the doctor's armpits and got a firm hold on him by clenching his hands together on his chest while Watson gripped the detective's upper arms with his own hands. He carefully slid on the floor moving as a snake, pulling his friend out from the danger just before a larger portion of the wooden floor collapsed into the well and allowed himself to stand up on his knees only when he reached the door. Watson was still holding on him almost painfully, but he did not care. He pull him up to rest his back on his chest and did not let go. The good doctor was still trembling and his eyes were closed.
"Watson you're safe now! You can let go!" he spoke softly.
The doctor opened his eyes and sighed, letting his hands release the hold on Holmes' arms.
"I am sorry, Holmes! I almost killed us both!"
"Not your fault, old boy! Someone should had put an advice at the door that there was a well inside!"
"I shouldn't had entered the building, I acted like a fool!"
"Now don't make me say "I told you" because…"
"I know you warned me, Holmes, next time I will listen to you, I swear! Now just let me out of here!"
Holmes watched as his friend made a supreme effort to get up on his own and walk to the main door of the house without his support. He made his way to the sitting room and dropped in the armchair near the fireplace. Holmes poured a glass of brandy and handed it to him, who accepted it gratefully.
"Are you hurt somewhere, Watson? How is your leg?" he asked.
"I'm fine. Perhaps some bruises, but that's all." he replied hoarsely.
Wilson, the butler, who had heard them, knocked lightly on the door and entered the room; he noticed the pallor on Watson's face and asked if he was feeling alright and if he could do something for them.
The doctor did not answer immediately, he still felt a little shocked by the accident but most of all he felt ashamed at his own awkwardness; Holmes's concern for him was welcomed, for he was grateful he had such a great friend at his side, but he was someway too shy to admit it. He loathed to be weak and to need help, even from his mate.
"The doctor had an accident, Wilson. He could had died, but he was lucky…" Holmes explained to the butler in a sharp tone.
Watson felt sorry for the poor man and tried to lighten the atmosphere.
"Holmes, there is no need to talk to Wilson like this!" he stated in a firm voice that surprised himself too.
"If there is something I can do to help you, doctor, it will be my pleasure!" the butler replied, his manner perfectly polite.
"Thank you, Wilson. I appreciate it. I think Mr. Holmes has some question to ask you, if you don't mind." he said, casting a warning look at his friend as to say "Behave yourself!"
"I will answer all your question Mr. Holmes." He assured.
"Thank you, Wilson. I am sorry if I was rude before, I was just concerned about my friend." He turned to the doctor, who was looking better but was still far from normal. "Watson, do you want us to go to the library, so not to disturb you?"
Watson felt his cheeks blushing at the gentleness of Holmes' voice.
"Thank you, Holmes, but I'd like to be present. Please, Wilson, take a seat."
The old man positioned himself between the detective and the doctor and waited. Holmes summarized him the events of the accident, the butler looked uncomfortable for the first time but did not interrupt the detective. When he was asked, he assured both of them that before their arrival ha had checked personally that everything had been taken care of in the house and outside and that he remembered perfectly well the sign at the warehouse door that advised not to enter the building. He added that someone should had removed the sign, even if he could not find a reason for that act. Holmes asked then about the personnel who worked in the house, for how long they had been there and if he knew if someone was on bad terms with Watson's uncle (and so he would had wanted to kill Watson, he thought!). Wilson again assured them the people who worked in the house were absolutely trusted and that he knew them for many years now, he could not think of them trying to harm anyone, especially the doctor. He explained that when Watson's uncle died, if he would not had any living relatives, they would had to go away and to find another work, so they were happy that the doctor had come to stay to the village. Watson was worried to hear that, but did not say anything. Apparently satisfied, Holmes thanked the man that left the room silently.
Once they were alone again, Holmes poured another glass of brandy for Watson and one for himself, and went to sit in front of him.
"Drink it, Watson. You'll feel better!" he suggested.
The doctor complied and actually felt more himself.
"There is something I cannot understand, Holmes. I never told Wilson I was going to stay, I went here to see the property and its contents but I absolutely don't want to leave London. I don't think I told him so."
"You did not."
"But then… who told him? Winter? And why he would had done it?"
"I don't have enough elements to answer your questions, my dear. I don't like that man, Winter, but apparently he has nothing to hide: I made some researches on him before leaving Baker Street and he seems unimpeachable."
"You made researches on him? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I had no reason to worry you. And it was just routine."
"Well, now I have a reason to worry. Holmes, do you think someone removed the sign on purpose so to try to make me fall in the well?"
"Watson, Old boy, it seems to me you are on the black book of someone. Unfortunately, I still don't know who this someone is, but I will find out, don't worry about it."
"What do I have do in the meantime? Stay locked in my room?"
"Absolutely not. You'll have to behave as usual, just be sure when you go out not to go alone."
"You don't want this mad man to understand you're tracking him, right?"
"Correct deduction, Watson. Now, why don't you try to relax in the library while I go out for a while? I need to verify a few things before it gets dark."
"Do you need any help?"
"It's better if you stay inside, Watson. It's safer and if you need something, call Wilson. I think we can trust him."
"What if there are other traps and you get hurt? I insist I have to come with you!"
"I can take care of myself. But if it makes you feel better, I'll ask the young servant to come with me. Is that acceptable for you?"
"Yes. I could not forgive myself if you get hurt because of me."
Both men stood in silence for some minutes, afraid of showing their emotions. Then Holmes stood up and guided his friend gently to the library. He made sure the windows were properly closed and the room was all clear before leaving with many recommendations.
And he calls me Mother Hen! Watson thought.
Even if he did not think it was possible, he actually rested and relaxed and enjoyed his reading for the rest of the afternoon.
SO THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MORE ACTION THAN THE FIRST TWO AND NOW THAT THINGS HAS STARTED TO BE MORE INTRIGUING, MORE ACTION WILL COME!
TO BE CONTINUED IN PART 4...
I HOPE TO UPDATE THE STORY SOON ENOUGH!
PLEASE REVIEW IF YOU LIKE IT OR NOT, OR IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTIONS :)