December 19: "Watson is really, truly unavailable for a case with Holmes…so Mary takes his place instead." (from Aleine Skyfire)

Holmes

The strange events I am about to recount occurred one evening several months after the marriage of my friend Watson and Mary Morstan. I called at their new home, but learned from their maid that my friend was busy with his practice, and would probably not return home until late.

I had just made to leave, when Mrs. Watson hurried into the passage and stopped me.

"You are welcome to wait for John, if you wish," she offered with a sweet smile.

I shook my head. "I have a rather pressing case on my hands, so I'm afraid I must decline."

"You came for John's help then?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. Well of course I did! I was hardly in the habit of making social calls.

"Do you have anyone else who can assist you?" she asked.

"Not really," I admitted.

"Will it be dangerous?" she asked.

"Unless something goes very, very unexpectedly wrong, no," I said, "But if you will excuse me…" I retreated a couple of steps, but Mrs. Watson followed.

"Would I be able to assist you?" she asked.

"I am afraid not," I replied.

She pursed her lips. "You spoke far too quickly to have actually considered it, even taking into account the speed of your thought processes."

Mrs. Watson was correct, and I had little doubt she could see that in my face as well. "My apologies," said I.

"I want to help," she said. "I hate to see you go without needed assistance, and between you and me," she added confidentially, "it's a little dull being an English housewife, when John is working all the time."

To my own surprise, I found myself reconsidering her offer. "Well…perhaps…"

"You yourself said that there was no danger," Mrs. Watson insisted.

That was true. In addition to that, I had known since I first met her that she was both intelligent and insightful, and could see in her expression now that nothing would deter her from accompanying me on this case unless I had some very good reason that she not come. Which I did not.

"I'll call a carriage," I said, "and it will be departing in three minutes whether your are in it or not."

"Thank you!" she replied, flashing me a grin, and rushed away to retrieve her bonnet or whatever else women have to do before going out.

She climbed into the carriage two minutes and seventeen seconds later, and then we were on our way. I was already beginning to rather regret my decision. What would Watson say when he learned of this?

"Where are we headed, and what do I need to do?" Mrs. Watson asked, breaking in on my thoughts.

"We are on our way to the British Museum, where you will engage the security guard in a brief conversation about one of the Italian paintings while I…complete my case."

"How?" she asked.

"It is somewhat confidential," I said.

"Only somewhat?"

Well, if she would not be put off, I might as well tell her. "I am anonymously returning a small artifact that was stolen several days ago."

"Ah," she replied. "Someone important took it?"

"I am not at liberty to answer that," I replied.

She gave a little sigh. "I suppose I'm better off not knowing anyway."

To keep a long story short, we could not have met with more complete success, rendering a full telling of the story far too dull for me to bother recounting. The return to the Watson's home was somewhat of a different matter.

Upon opening the door, the two of us found ourselves nearly walking straight into Watson, who showed signs of having arrived home from his practice within the past five minutes, and of hurriedly preparing to leave again.

"Mary!" he exclaimed. "Where on earth have you been?"

"British Museum," she replied.

"With Holmes?" he asked. "Actually, let's all just sit down a minute and let me figure out what's happened."

Watson led us to the sitting room. I cast a nervous glance at Mrs. Watson, who gave a confident little shake of the head, and mouthed what I believe was, Don't worry.

"Tell me, what were you doing at the Museum?" he asked, glancing back and forth between his wife and me, apparently unsure which of us to address.

"Completing a case," I replied a trifle nervously.

"With Mary?" His eyebrows shot up.

"Yes," she replied. "Don't worry—there was no danger or anything of that nature; he only needed a momentary distraction."

"She did quite well," I added, unsure whether or not saying so would help the situation.

"Ah," said Watson, with a slight frown, apparently unsure what to think of all this. A moment later, his expression cleared, and he gave a little laugh.

"Well, apparently this is a lesson to me not to work so much," he said, "or I might be in danger of being replaced!"

"Of course not!" I cried, for despite his joking manner I perceived a slight undertone of genuine concern. "My dear Watson, you are not easily replaced, even by someone as worthy as your wife."

Watson's cheeks coloured a little, and I knew my words had the desired effect.

"Mary is certainly that," said he.

"But not nearly as qualified for the job as you, John," said she, with a smile. "Mr. Holmes is right. You had better keep it."

Watson's pink cheeks darkened a shade. "I fully intend to."