Today is Watson's 50th birthday. I've let him sleep now for several hours- it's eleven, and now I'm fairly impatient. He will miss lunch at this rate. He might miss his half-century run, not out. I haven't scored a wicket on him, I haven't run him out. It's quite a mystery how he's pulled through.
Detection is beginning to lose its appeal. I can no-longer save London- it's very vulgar, loud and harmless. The old criminals are now enjoying themselves far too much. I shan't tell the old boy though- I doubt I'll retire.
"Oh there's Sleeping Beauty."
A frown. "Morning."
"Nearly afternoon, Olde boy."
A pause. "Well."
"Happy Returns. You really are aged now."
"Oh, be quiet, Holmes. Breakfast?"
I'm silent for a moment. I smile at him.
"Well? Speak, man!"
"Sorry, I was being quiet. Respecting my elders."
A sigh. "Breakfast, Holmes?"
"Twas put away. There is however a box of chocolates on the table for you from Mrs. Hudson."
Watson turned and looked at my present a box of expensive cigars and a smallish cardboard box. He ignored the sweets, put a cigar in his mouth and brought the box over to me.
"Is this your doing?"
"Yes." He leaned his chin toward me and I lit his cigar. His eyes widened slightly. I have to admit, I'm not one with a particular talent for gift buying.
"It's heavy."
"That it is, but I thought you might like that about it."
He opened it. It was a largish silver pocket-watch Watson was worth gold, but I couldn't stop a petty thief from stealing it then with rather attractive engravings. It had Watson's name printed on the inside of the lid, and the face was clear.
"It's beautiful, Holmes." He meant it. I leaned with my apish arms and took one of Watson's cigars I had boughtthem from the table, and Watson didn't notice, so enthralled was he by his real present.
"Thank you."
"My dear Watson, you are welcome."
"Now I have a watch from both of my brothers." At that I had to look down slightly- I had flushed with the warm smoke falling around me.