The Vengeful Jewel

Tuesday, January 19, 1891
9:56 a.m.

A creaking of wood alerted Watson that the fight had moved to the top of the stairs. He moved out of Holmes' room to stand at the doorway, Mrs. Jones already at his side as they watched the scene at the stairs.

Holmes had finally navigated Jones to the stairs. Now all he had to do was get the man down so that his opponent could be led outside.

Holmes delivered a swift flick of his fingers against Jones' forehead. Jones snarled angrily and slashed his hands at Holmes. The detective deflected the attack with light slaps.

"This is really too easy, my good man," Holmes said with a cheerful casualness. "But, since you are my guest here, I must insist that you descend first." Holmes bowed, adding insult to injury.

Jones' face turned a most violent red as he fumed at the action. His eyes darted to his wife standing beside Watson. But her eyes were watching Holmes with a bemused fascination at the prospect of such a well-mannered man who voluntarily offered advantages to his much less skilled opponent.

The very thought sent Jones bombarding into Holmes. As one, the men tottered over the threshold and tumbled down the steps.

Amid the thuds and clatter of bodies hitting the wooden steps, several streams of curses rose from the revolving forms although it was impossible to tell from which mouth they came from.

At last, the two men hit the bottom floor and rolled to a stop: Holmes stopping near the bottom step and Jones against the far wall. Both men groaned painfully and twitched on the floor due to a new arsenal of bruises and a few possible sprains.

Watson stood warily on the top step, looking down at both bodies as they writhed on the floor. Neither looked to have been seriously hurt. Merely fairly battered to the point of partial, temporary immobility.

Holmes had managed to claw his way into a sitting position, his back leaning heavily against the bottom step. This seemed to be the extent of his movement for he was unable to do anything more other than to sit gasping on the floor.

Jones was in a similar condition and he forced himself to lie on his side so that he could still glare daggers at Holmes. He too breathed laboriously but not from serious injuries. Rather from exhaustion.

The two men stared at each other from where they lay; catching their breaths as Watson watched with a careful gaze. Mrs. Jones stood frozen where she stood; her sympathetic heart going out to both of the battered men.

_._._._._._._

Short one this time.

Next chapter will explain just why Mr. Jones is attacking Holmes. Hope you're not getting bored.

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Until next chapter,
Hobey-Ho