This is a double-221B for my co-author PGF:
I straighten up from the hives with a sigh and a ridiculous popping of the joints…Watson always warned me that I would be prone to rheumatism. I pocket my journal and its contents regarding my work-in-progress and start back to my cottage, wondering what I am going to do the rest of the weekend.
I round the corner of the path in time to hear a dreadful sputtering and hissing shattering the peace of this summer evening, and as it dies I hurry round the house to see a familiar figure descending from…oh, good heavens, no…
"Evening, Holmes!"
Despite the horrendous oddity of the situation, just the sight of him brings a smile unbidden to my face. My weekend will be eventful after all.
"My dear fellow…what on earth?" I managed to gasp as I take his hand.
"I got tired of taking the train!" he says brightly, with all the excitement of a child showing off a new toy.
"But – but – why on earth –"
"Well I had to get one sooner or later, Holmes, I'm growing rather too old to be walking twenty miles a day like we did in Baker Street," he says with a slight blush. My dear Watson, proud to the last.
I splutter for a moment before finding my manners at last and taking his valise from him.
"I must say, your practice must be doing rather well for you to be able to afford it," I throw over my shoulder as I set the bag down on the spare bed…really his bed, as no one else ever has or ever will sleep there.
He shrugs modestly as always. "Fair enough. But…you haven't yet said if you like it or not?"
"I really am not an expert on the subject, Watson," I reply dryly.
"Like to go for a drive?" he asks eagerly, and I feel my face blanch.
"Erm, Watson…are you sure you know how?"
I receive the I-am-not-actually-annoyed-with-you-but-I-will-be-if-you-don't-humour-me eyeroll, and hastily rephrase the question.
"I mean, is it quite safe?"
"The car, or my driving ability?" he returns with a grin.
"Erm, both. I – have never ridden in one before, you know…"
"Oh, come on. Where's that reckless sense of adventure you used to have?"
"I left it in Baker Street four years ago!"
He turns that horrible pleading gaze on me that I never had been able to refuse…and especially now that I only see it on the odd weekend here and there. And as I sigh, he grins, knowing he has won yet again.
All the same, I believe I shall make sure I at least know the location of the brakes…