NOTES: I had a request to continue it, and... Well, I have. It's a surprising amount of fun to torture a pair of Victorian gentleman with a duck.
I'll have to figure out someway of actually concluding this ridiculous thing, but for now, please enjoy the continued antics of Holmes, Watson, and anas platyrhynchos.
Chapter Two
The two gentlemen of Baker Street had collected themselves from the floor following the grand unveiling of the house's new poltergeist and were now sitting before the morning fire. Watson sipped a cup of tea while Holmes finished a pipe in silence.
The detective's attention was rapt upon the duck that had decided to nestle quite comfortably upon his slippers.
Finally, he removed the pipe from his mouth and pronounced carefully, "Perhaps you should start from the beginning, Watson."
Watson hesitated only a second before nodding in resignation. "Of course, Holmes." He set his teacup upon the side table and settled stiffly into his armchair. "I'll keep it simple."
Holmes raised an eyebrow but refrained from making an obvious comment about the dubious adjective.
"One of the young Irregulars, Tracy, showed up at our doorstep with a bad cold yesterday afternoon. He brought his new pet along and saw no reason why he shouldn't let it loose upon our sitting room."
"His pet would be the duck that's chosen my slippers for its resting place, I'd imagine," Holmes supplied drily.
"Yes. Well, earlier that afternoon, I'd removed—"
"You removed your ring and left it within reach of our curious nuisance over there."
Watson sighed through his teeth at the interruption. "Yes." Of course the infuriating man would put the whole matter together within seconds—
"The rest of the story falls into place; hypothesizing a connection between your lost ring, which you would have otherwise retrieved upon the conclusion of your examination, and the presence of an animal which is known to be fascinated by shiny objects leads to the reasonable conclusion that Tracy's pet ingested your wedding band."
"It could have been a coincidence, of course," Watson muttered a trifle sullenly, irritated by Holmes' unerring deduction of events. The detective treated him with a withering glare at his use of the prohibited "c" word, however, counterproductively raising Watsons' spirits by a degree.
"What I find curious," Holmes continued pointedly, "is why you saw the need to hide the matter from me?"
Watson shuffled in his seat uncomfortably. "I… Well, that is to say, Holmes…" He stuttered and closed his mouth, looking up at his friend helplessly.
The detective sighed wearily, resting his forehead against his hand, and Watson slumped a bit guiltily.
"Dear fellow, I know I am an eccentric man, but surely you trust that I would not be so insensitive as to kill a boy's pet? Or throw the creature out of the house before you could retrieve the ring?" He wrinkled his nose disapprovingly at the mess of feathers resting upon his shoes, and added under his breath, "Although, I can't deny that Tracy chose a strange and… mildly irksome companion."
Watson sighed. "Yes. I know, Holmes. I apologize for not trusting you. I'm afraid I reacted in a manner as peculiar as the situation itself."
Holmes looked up after a moment and appeared to relent, flashing a half-smile and waving a hand dismissively. "Do not trouble yourself about it, Watson. You were, after all, rather distracted over the loss of your wedding ring." He frowned, and his attention suddenly fixed on his pipe which he turned over nervously in his hands. "I… know that it is very important to you," he said gently.
Watson felt the familiar tightening in his chest at the oblique reference to his wife. Mary's death remained a frequent ache in his heart. Holmes, of course, was able to observe the pain in his friend; however, the detective remained uncertain as to when – and if – he should mention the late Mrs. Watson.
Comfortingly (strange, Watson thought, that I should offer comfort to Holmes and feel some relief in return), the doctor smiled. "Thank you for understanding, Holmes."
A flicker of warmth passed across the detective's face and he continued in a professional manner. "I suppose all that is left is to wait the situation out."
As one, the pair turned their attentions to the duck. It had woken and was beginning to eye a stack of Holmes' newspapers.
"Watson," Holmes asked warily, "what precisely do ducks eat?"
"Bread and insects, I imagine," Watson answered blandly. "Although it appears that this damnable thing will eat anything it lays eyes upon." He monitored Holmes' expression as the duck wobbled closer to the detective's beloved scrapbooks, one of which he'd left open upon the ground beside the settee. A glimmer of Watson's discomfort returned as the detective quickly took to his feet to remove his belongings from the creature's path.
"Holmes, uh. I do apologize in advance. I rather suspect this whole situation may become somewhat trying before the end."
Holmes straightened suddenly, an armful of papers clutched to his chest that had been narrowly rescued from the nibbling waterfowl. The irritation that had passed absently across his features evaporated at Watson's tone and was replaced, momentarily, by something strange. Guilt? Concern?
In a second it was gone again, and Holmes was merely regarding him with a blank expression. "Watson, please. What is important is getting your wedding ring back. We are used to clients, informants, and thieves traipsing about our sitting rooms; I doubt a duck shall make much worse company."
He laid his bundle of paper-goods upon an already overladen table and turned to Watson with a smile, hands sliding casually into his trouser pockets. "Consider it like this, Watson: We are comrades united against a temporary inconvenience. Surely the two of us together can overcome so silly a trifle as a small duck?"
His unconcerned demeanor might have went further in convincing Watson if the incorrigible bird hadn't chose that very moment to bite at Holmes' heel.
In the day that followed, Watson might have felt guilt at the havoc Baker Street's new companion wrought; however, as Holmes predicted, the pair soon found themselves united against a common enemy.
It was astounding the nuisance a small bird could be. Within an hour of their conversation, it became obvious that they would need to remove anything at duck-height to a new location. The options were that, or chase after the infernal thing every moment to keep it from destroying their possessions.
It would have been easier to simply remove the duck to Mrs. Hudson's garden – but of course, that option was now quite out of the question. Tethering the animal to a table leg only produced continuous disagreeable squawks that wore on everyone's patience in minutes. They had entertained that particular solution for only five minutes before Mrs. Hudson had entered and requested, "For the love of all that's good, Mr. Holmes, can't you find another solution?"
The fact of the matter was, a duck was simply not meant to reside in a cluttered bachelors' flat in the middle of London.
The detective resisted from suggesting the use of chemicals for a full three hours, a feat which admittedly impressed Watson. However, the answer had to remain: no.
"'Knowledge of Chemistry: profound,'" Holmes quoted exasperatedly, and, not for the first time, Watson regretted having ever published that list of the detective's strengths and weaknesses.
"Holmes, no. I do not wish to jeopardize its life. Or would you like to be the one to explain to Wiggins and Tracy that we've accidentally killed their pet?"
Holmes scoffed and irritably waved the duck away from inspecting his foot. "I am a professional, Watson, I highly doubt—"
"How much experience do you have with a duck's physiology?" Watson put his hands on his hips and fixed his friend with a stern stare.
Holmes huffed a sigh, but looked away. "With a little bit of research, I'm sure—"
"Holmes, in the time it would take for you to go to the library, research, return, experiment, and test your results, the duck will have already processed its meals and there would be no point."
The duck, which had circled around Holmes' feet stealthily during their argument, triumphantly clamped its bill upon his Achilles tendon. The detective yelped and kicked his foot away, causing the bird to flutter its wings angrily and retreat, quacking, to its favorite spot upon Holmes' slippers.
"At least it would give me time away from this damnable creature!" Holmes shouted, rubbing at his ankle and glaring heatedly at the duck which seemed to have become his doppelganger.
Shaking his head in astonishment, Watson was reminded of a case Holmes had shared from the detective's early years. "What is it with animals targeting your ankle, Holmes?" This was the fourth time in the last three hours that the duck had succeeded in its mission of attacking Holmes.
He grunted dispassionately. "I haven't the slightest idea as to why peoples' pets seem intent on crippling me."
The pair observed the duck as it unhappily plucked at Holmes' slippers. By now, the room was curiously bare at the one-foot mark, and the duck appeared to be growing bored with its surroundings. After a moment, Holmes suggested an idea that had been scrapped before.
"Watson… I know that we shall have to make a thorough scrub of it when this business is finished, but why don't we go ahead and fill the washtub? I don't think the hassle of cleaning the 'tub shall be worse than the fatigue of chasing this creature 'round and 'round our sitting room."
Initially, Watson had balked at the idea; but now, a few hours into their roles as nanny, his protestations about sanitation and convention seemed entirely ridiculous. The detective and doctor shared a look and, as one, rushed to the washroom door.
"We must try and keep this from Mrs. Hudson, of course," Watson added unnecessarily.
Holmes shook his head. "That shall be virtually impossible. She shall hear the water and splashing."
Watson grimaced. "We shall have to come up with some way of placating her. She is already rather upset about her garden."
Holmes rolled up his sleeves while he thought. "To begin with, we shall clean the mess ourselves."
Watson nodded before going to retrieve the duck.