10. Dolls
I sneaked into the hall of the flat like an schoolboy playing hooky, glancing at the coat stand. Ah, good, Holmes's ulster and hat were still gone – he had not returned yet.
I set my packages down while I unbuttoned my overcoat, a smirk crossing my face at the thought of the first one of Holmes's fears. I did not even wish to know how a chap growing up with only one brother, no sisters, would possibly have acquired this fear (I suspected a rather nasty young Mycroft), but so be it.
As I mounted the steps to the sitting room with my purchases, I absently reflected that this little bet was likely to take more out of my pocket than it was worth…unless Holmes could actually be frightened as I was hoping.
I had not told Holmes that Mycroft had also laid me a small wager that I would not be able to accomplish the feat. I had a double incentive to prove both Holmeses wrong now.
Holmes was still out on that robbery, finishing up the details with Gregson, and I knew he would shortly be returning with an appetite; usually the trend after he finished a case was that he would suddenly eat everything in sight after having starved himself for days. I was glad this habit took place only after the denouement of the cases, since making it a regular habit was probably why Mycroft looked the way he did…
So instead of the dinner I knew Holmes would be wanting, I took the items from my bags and began to arrange the half-dozen or so toys upon the table, a snigger crossing my face.
Dolls. Sherlock Holmes, afraid of a little girl's plaything.
It was going to be rather funny, well worth what I paid for them even if they did not truly frighten my dear friend.
I had at least six or seven of them, all with large glassy eyes staring straight at the sitting room door, just waiting for the detective to come walking in.
Which he did, a half-hour later.
"Watson, did Mrs. Hudson get supper ready yet, or would you like to – YIPE!"
There could be no other word to describe the choking yelp that escaped Holmes's lips as he blew in the door, tossing away coat and hat and glancing at the table to see if dinner had been laid, retreating back into the hall at the sight that met his eyes.
I howled with laughter; for his startled reaction was indeed the most hilarious thing I had seen in a long time, as he finally cautiously edged round the outside of the room as if trying to avoid the large glassy eyes following his furtive movements.
However, I had to admit that his reaction was not actually fear – I had startled him, not frightened him.
Ah well, there was always tomorrow and the second fear.
Holmes's face was red with mortification as he realised how close he had some to giving me what I wanted, and he glared daggers at me, starting to sit in his armchair, casting a wary glance at the dolls upon the table.
Then suddenly he screeched and yelped again, jumping a foot into the air as he sat on one final doll's porcelain body.
I ducked as the toy came flying at my head and he disappeared crossly into his bedroom, leaving me clutching my sides with glee.
Now, for tomorrow…
