Holmes-
I gave him fifteen minutes. Five to receive and read it, five to apologise to them, and five to come home.
Watson-
I was at my club when the telegraph boy jogged into the room. He looked suspiciously like an Irregular, but I couldn't be sure- there are so many of them around.
"Doctor Watson, an urgent telegram for you."
My fellows looked at each other- it was a running joke that I kept on being called away either to Holmes or my patients. I had actually asked Holmes not to telegram me whilst I was at a game for fear of the slight embarrassment it caused. Of course, this meant that even more telegrams were sent at inopportune moments.
I took it from the boy and it read as follows:
END THE SILLY GAME AND COME TO BAKER STREET STOP THE MAN TO YOUR RIGHT IS CHEATING ANYWAY STOP I'M OPENING A BOTTLE OF BRANDY AND FRIGHTFULLY BORED STOP HURRY OVER BEFORE IT EVAPOURATES STOP
YOUR BETTER FRIEND HOLMES FULL STOP
I suppressed a laugh- that boy was certainly an Irregular then, though he had already disappeared so I couldn't telegraph an excuse back. Holmes had employed someone to watch me and the other players. The scoundrel! I caught my grin before it hit the surface.
It was my turn to bet. My 'friends' watched me carefully, but they did not enjoy my company. They watched me for my cards, they watched carefully in case I was cheating. If my mood were to change, they would pick up on it quicker than Holmes or at least react quicker, but they wouldn't be concerned. If I were to seem agitated they would quite possibly rejoice- it meant my cards were bad. I gazed at the expectant faces and cleared my throat. "I'm sorry, chaps, but I must leave."
"Are you being called out on a case?" asked the one Holmes claimed to be a cheater.
"No, I have a patient to go and see. He needs to see me immediately."
"Don't you ever take time off from your patients, Wilson?" asked another player. I decided not to correct him.
"Not really, no."
My chair scraped on the floor noisily as I got up, put on my old coat and left the warm, quiet room, and a couple of people looked over at me with an air of superiority. 'They wouldn't scrape the chair if it were them, and their coats are not old, and their work does not call them out at night. They are not doctors. They do not understand,' I thought. I stepped out into the foggy night air and pretended not to run home to my better friend.