"Holmes…"
"Don't even say it, Watson."
"But –"
"Oh, be quiet."
We walked along for some minutes, looking round at the towering trees and lovely flowers, studying the beauty of nature's evening.
After fifteen minutes I tried again.
"Holmes?"
"What."
"Are you certain –"
"I already told you, yes, Watson! Now for the love of heaven drop it!"
Miffed, I turned my attention back to the birds above us, chirping merrily as the sun set in a blaze of brilliant red and orange.
My leg was beginning to throb with the unaccustomed exercise, and it was not long before I began to limp. Holmes was deep in thought, his brow furrowed, sharp eyes glancing about us at everything we passed, and never paid a bit of attention to me.
That is, until I began to lag behind a step or two, the limp becoming more pronounced. My companion turned just as I paused, grimacing.
Casting a nervous glance round us, Holmes took my arm and led me to a fallen tree, where I was very glad to sit down and rest. He seated himself stiffly beside me.
"Well?"
"All right, go ahead and say it."
"Say what?"
"Whatever you were going to say, Watson."
I snickered, grinning at my dismayed companion.
"Looks like you're lost period, with or without your Boswell."