NOTE: Obviously, I've not been writing fanfiction for a few months - not for any worse reason than I was simply doing other things! But I missed writing again and knew I had some partially completed chapters waiting. So, I figured I'd dust them off. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three

The duck seemed quite grateful for the appearance of deep water ('deep' in this case being no more than two feet, and that only four feet in length), and no sooner had Holmes placed it atop the surface of the pool than it eagerly began paddling the circumference.

"There," Holmes sighed, sinking back on his heels in relief.

Watson chuckled. "I'm not sure who's happier with this outcome, ourselves or the duck."

Holmes' lips twitched in a smile. "Let's hope this keeps it occupied for a while."

They left their charge to explore the limited depths of its new playground. Holmes shut the door and, sharing a grin of accomplishment with Watson, the two settled into their afternoon activities.

An hour later, the sounds of splashing and soft bird noises echoing from the closed washroom had long since diminished into the occasional whistle or coo. Watson let himself into the duck's sanctuary to litter some bread crumbs (stolen from the breakfast tray earlier that morning) and check for signs of his wedding ring.

When Watson reemerged from the washroom, shutting the door carefully behind him, Holmes looked up from his work with a sympathetic smile. "Nothing yet, old fellow?"

Watson shook his head. "I'm afraid not." He sighed and moved to sit at his writing desk. "I'm not quite sure how long this will take, but I do hope it's not too much longer."

Holmes nodded once in agreement and returned his attention to his notes.

It was at two o'clock in the afternoon that the bell rang and Mrs. Hudson announced the arrival of the duck's nervous owner. Tracy entered the sitting room with his hat in his hands and his eyes downcast.

"Mornin' Mr. 'Olmes, Doctor Watson," he mumbled politely. "I jus' wanted to make sure me an' Wig's pet was… um… doin' alright."

Watson stood to meet their guest. "Yes, your duck is quite fine. I'm afraid my ring hasn't turned up yet, however."

Tracy winced, but accepted this information with a nod. "Sorry again, doc."

It was obvious that the boy was still feeling guilty about the whole affair. While the situation was frustrating, Watson didn't like to see the lad so glum. As such, the doctor rallied his patience and gave a reassuring smile. "It's alright, Tracy, there's no use fretting about it. It shouldn't be too much longer before the whole matter is resolved."

Tracy seemed to take comfort in Watson's assured smile, and some of the boy's anxiety trickled away. "Tha's good to hear, then," he nodded in return. He shuffled where he stood, but appeared unready to leave.

The two faced each other awkwardly for a moment while Tracy shot the occasional furtive glance around the room. There was obviously something on the boy's mind. After a solid chunk of silence, Watson quirked his head encouragingly. "Yes, Tracy?"

Tracy's gaze shot up to meet the doctor's, and he chuckled weakly. "Right, sorry. I was just wonderin'…"

The lad trailed off again uncertainly. Before Watson could push the boy further, Holmes' voice broke in languidly, "You were wondering whether you might visit your feathered companion."

The detective had not looked up from where he was working, and Watson smirked at the nonchalant façade hiding Holmes' impatience with the dawdling conversation. Tracy's face lit up, however, and it became clear that, yes, this was the boy's reason for stopping.

"I don't see why not," Watson replied airily. The boy's countenance became animated immediately and, all at once, Tracy was his usual energetic self again. Watson chuckled and led him to the washroom.

The duck did not recognize Tracy, of course, and continued paddling idly around with indifference; but the boy approached the animal with the spellbound smile one might wear when encountering a long lost friend.

"So," Watson asked, leaning against the doorframe, "have you and Wiggins decided what to name your pet?"

There was a derisive scoff from Holmes which Watson steadfastly ignored. Tracy, of course, did not even notice and chattered excitedly. "Nah, not yet. Me and Wig's been tryin' to think of a good name, but it's 'ard without really knowin' what the duck's like yet, you follow?"

Watson nodded indulgently. "I understand entirely. When my brother and I were boys, we discovered a young stray dog roaming our property. We took it in and named it Racer, thinking it would become an energetic new playmate." The doctor gave a wry grin at the memory. "All the silly thing ever did was sleep, if I remember right. Laziest dog I've ever seen."

Holmes snorted from his position at the table and drily suggested in an undertone, "In that case, why don't they christen the duck 'Mycroft'?"

The joke, of course, was lost on Tracy, but Watson accidentally choked.

When the doctor managed to stop coughing, he lifted his voice to carry over Holmes' absent mumbling ("lazy, annoying, enjoys bothering me, always hungry…" he was justifying, idly ticking points off his fingers) and instructed Tracy to be careful. "Please try not to make a mess. We'll have quite enough to clean up without you two splashing water everywhere."

Tracy had long since removed his threadbare jacket and was in the process of shoving his arms beneath the water. His face shot up, slightly abashed, and he grinned apologetically. "Oh, right. 'Course, doctor. I promise, we won't make a mess."

Watson didn't believe this for an instant, but he shut the door and allowed the two 'friends' to play in peace.

Holmes stood and stretched, running a hand tiredly across his face. "Between the attentions of Tracy and that bath, it appears that we won't have to personally worry about entertaining our foul friend much longer. The duck seems quite content."

Watson nodded before fully catching Holmes' words. Eyes narrowing, he frowned at his friend, wondering if his sleight of wit was intentional. Holmes smiled pleasantly in return. Watson thought it best not to indulge him, in any case, and grunted instead. "Yes, well… Not much longer, as I've said." Shaking his head with a sigh, Watson then gestured to the notes upon Holmes' desk conversationally. "You've had those out all afternoon. A new monograph?"

Holmes shook his head. "No, a case for the Yard. Actually," he conceded, dipping his head to the side, "it's rather more of academic interest than criminal pursuit."

Watson raised his eyebrows in curiosity. "Academic, you say?"

"An unsolved case from years ago. The events are quite stale and those involved uninterested in its resolution. A matter of an unresolved death, the means of which was never quite decided – natural, or unnatural?" He shook his head again in a dismissive manner. "As I said, the case is much more oriented for an intellectual perusal at this stage than a pursuit of justice."

Watson frowned. "What's got you looking into it?"

Holmes glanced at his friend and gave a slow smile. "Ah, inquisitive old Watson. As it happens, a piece of evidence turned up. Just one. It was a dirty old patch that was found at the back of a drawer in the deceased's desk. When he died, his furniture was put to auction and – hold on, what's that?"

Their attention was drawn to agitated sounds from the bathroom. The sound of batting wings was soon joined by a boy's shout of surprise and a series of excited squawks.

As one, the pair started across the room, Holmes wrenching the washroom door open as he arrived only a moment before Watson.

They were just in time to see Tracy making a vain grab for the duck's tail feathers, feathers which promptly disappeared through the open window after the escaping waterfowl.