Sorry it took me a while to write this, but I had a troubled week...

Fathers and sons (chapter 4)

When Holmes returned it was dark. Watson was in his room and his temper was much better. When he heard his friend entering his own room, he did not waste time and opened the door without knocking.

"Holmes, it's good to see you again!" he greeted him happily. "Did you find something interesting?"

The detective was surprised and relieved his friend was feeling better and he actually felt better, because they had established a curios empathy between them so Holmes was just happy if Watson was happy.

"No, not really. But now I know every inches of the house and its surroundings. And you, Watson, did you have a good time?"

"Yes, I did not think it was possible but I actually relaxed and read the whole afternoon. There are very interesting books in the library and many documents about the house, in fact I was planning to have a look at some documents I found in the writing table of my uncle tomorrow."

"That's a good idea. I will have to ask you also to tell me all do you know about your uncle and your family, I know it won't be pleasant for you, but it's necessary I have the complete picture of the case."

Watson smiled at him.

"The case, Holmes?"

"Well, yes, the case. There is a mystery we have to solve here, old boy. You're just lucky the great Sherlock Holmes is at your service!" he stated and underlined the concept making a theatrical bow in front of his friend.

Watson laughed at his exaggerate gesture and thanked him with an applause.

Watson had to change his plans for the following day because Wilson informed him that Winter, the solicitor, had asked him to go to his office in the morning. Holmes went with him because he had nothing to do at the house and because he needed to ask the solicitor some questions. As expected, he was not so happy about his questioning but was polite enough to give him the information he wanted. He gave Watson details about his property and showed him the location of the lands and woods he mentioned the week before in Baker Street on a map and gave him the name of a farmer who could help him if he was interested on having a look at them, adding that they were left abandoned for many years and he was sure it was impossible now to know exactly where they were and if they could be someway "useful". When Watson asked him if he had any documents of his uncle in his office, for a second he looked uncomfortable but then handed him a pile of yellowish dusty papers, saying his uncle did not have any interest in them and that they were not particularly important, but of course it was his right to have them. Watson tried again to ask him about the relationship between his father and the defunct but he willingly remained vague on the subject, claiming the fact that he was called to assist his client when he had already closed the relationship with his family and he did not know why he did. Luckily the man did not invited them to lunch after having attended his duty. But on their way home they met the local doctor and the vicar outside the inn and they could not avoid their invitation to join them. The two men were thrilled about them, for they were the new entries of the village, and they were also proud to be the first to actually talk to them. The local doctor was very interested in the professional life of Watson and they spent some times talking about professional issues, discussing about the better way to treat certain illnesses, while Holmes and the vicar discussed about the importance of Church and in general of the religion in the life of a little village like Hawkesbury Upton. They had a good time and both men found the company of the villagers relaxing. They left the inn three and a half hours later with the intention of going straight home but they were intercepted by the owner of the grocery store, who offered Watson his services, and the holder of the post office, who did the same. Finally they were able to walk home. Watson was amused by the attention they got from the villagers and commented about it to his friend.

"They are as much excited as you were at the idea of coming here, Watson. You will be the main argument of their chattering for a while. And being a doctor, I am sure some young lady would soon like to invite you for tea."

The doctor laughed at the idea and let his friend tease him for the rest of the way.

As Holmes had predicted, the following day Watson was busy in public relations, people came to his house to welcome him and to know him personally, offering him help if he needed something. And he could not refuse to join an old lady for tea, because she insisted and he, being a good and caring man, would not displeased her. Watson was relaxed and self confident, the accident of two days ago was forgotten; Holmes was glad there had not been other troubles but he could not avoid to worry about the doctor's well being and never let him out of his sight.

On Wednesday morning Watson informed Wilson he was going to spent the day in the library checking his uncle's documents and asked him to not disturb him. Holmes, satisfied that his friend would be safe in the house, went to meet the farmer the solicitor told them about: he wanted the man to show him the lands outside the village so to clear his mind and to know better his new hunting territory. Watson found many interesting documents in the pile Winter gave him: there were property acts, detailed plans of the house and its surroundings and letters written between his father and his uncle before he was born. He decided to read the letters later in the evening alone in his bedroom, because he was sure their content would had roused other memories from his past and the last thing he needed now was to have an emotional break down again in front of his friend. So he started to take notes about the house in his smart handwriting, recording names and dates beginning from the past to end at present days. It took him all the morning and half of the afternoon but he was satisfied. When Holmes would had returned he should had interesting things to submit to his attention. Deciding his investigation desk work was finished, he absently rubbed his eyes and stirred in the chair then stood up, leaving his notes and all the documents on the writing table, and headed for the door.

On his way out of the room, he gave a closer look at some books on the wooden shelves. As usual, his mind was too concentrated on the one he was now holding in his hands to notice that the big and heavy bookshelf behind him had been disanchored from the wall and was crashing on him, the hundreds of volumes it contained hitting him hard on his head and other parts of his body in their fall and actually buried him on the floor. Luckily the charged bookshelf was too high and it got jammed in the one on the opposite wall in its fall, saving the doctor's life. Watson did not have time to ask for help before losing consciousness but Wilson and the other servants in the house heard the loud noise coming from the library and sprang to Watson's aid. The butler directed the rescue with efficiency with the help of two young servants: they cleared the floor and anchored the now empty shelf to the wall, then he carefully lifted Watson's unresponsive body in his arms and laid him on the couch of the sitting room. He sent a boy to the doctor's office to ask him to come immediately, ordered the others to replace the books in their places and waited.

When the doctor arrived, Watson was still unconscious, a big bump forming on the back of his head and dried blood around his nose and nape. He did not stir during his examination neither he woke up when the butler and the doctor gently took him upstairs in his bedroom, removed his clothes to inspect and clean the many bruises on his body, dressed him in his night dress and laid him on the big bed under the blankets. Holmes made his appearance when the two men were leaving the room and the doctor was relieved to see him. The detective demanded immediately what had happened but the doctor silenced him and guided him to the corridor, so to not disturb Watson.

"It seems your friend had an accident in the library. A bookshelf was not well anchored to the wall and fell down on him. But he was lucky. He has a bump on the back of his head and he lost some blood from a gash on his nape. He is still unconscious but I think he should wake up in some hours. My main concern is the gash on his head that may cause him some troubles: he could be disoriented and confused for a while and he will need your help for a couple of days. Make sure he stays in bed and rest, Mr. Holmes."

"Can I see him?" he asked, too shocked to argue with the man.

"Of course. I will come tomorrow morning to see how is he doing and if you need me tonight ask Wilson to send someone to my home"

"Thank you, doctor!"

Wilson took him to the main door and Holmes entered Watson's bedroom and sat in the chair near him. If not for some bruises and a soft dressing on his head, he seemed asleep quite peacefully. He was totally unmoving and a little pale, but it could had been much worse. Holmes thanked God for his friend's life and regretted himself for not being able to protect him, but he was sure nothing could had happened to him in the safe walls of the his own house. He was clearly wrong. At some point Watson mumbled something in his sleep but he finally opened his eyes only a few hours later. Holmes noticed the increasing of his breath and held his hand, calling his name until he was awake. Watson was confused and found difficult to focus on his face, probably a side effect of the gash on his nape as the doctor said, so the detective explained him where he was and what happened to him. He did not remember. He found very difficult to stay awake, his eyelids were heavy and he was feeling a general fatigue. Holmes reassured him he was safe and he needed to rest. Sleep was, in fact, a very good perspective for the doctor. He had something very important to tell his friend but he just could not remember what exactly. Before closing his eyes again, the fog that enveloped his mind cleared and he knew.

"Holmes… The writing table… documents…" he murmured in his direction.

"I'll take care of it. Now get some sleep." the detective replied softly, misunderstanding his words. Watson, being a military and a meticulous man, hated the disorder. Leaving the writing table in a mess was not typical of him and he was probably apologizing for it, Holmes thought.

"No, no… the documents… I left them… important… need to show you…" he breathed.

"I'll send someone to take them. Don't worry. You'll show me later, Watson."

The doctor did not reply as sleep claimed him. Holmes then called Wilson and asked him to retrieve the documents Watson was working at but he could not find them. They disappeared. Holmes frustration was growing and making him uncomfortable, but right now his priority was to vigil over his friend. Someone wanted him dead and tried twice to kill him.

"Watson, I swear to you, I will not let anything happen to you!" he kissed his friend's hand and prepared himself for a vigil night.

TO BE CONTINUED IN CHAPTER 5...

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