"Watson?"

"Yes, Holmes?"

"Is it true what they say about medical students?"

Watson's body jerked slightly and he lowered his book, peering at Holmes from his position in his chair. "Why?" he asked guardedly. "Which rumor have you heard?"

Holmes had moved from behind his chemistry table where he'd been occupied for the past hour and was leaning over the back of the couch, his sleeves rolled up and his leather gloves clutched in one hand. His heavy leather apron was over his shirt and his safety goggles were pushed up high on his forehead. The goggles' strap forced his hair to stick up in odd ways like he'd never brushed it that morning so that when he cocked his head to the side and grinned he gave off the vague impression of a mad scientist.

"Be at ease, Watson," he said. "Whatever popped into your head at my words is not so bad as the meaning I had in mind, I assure you. Whatever you got up to in your undoubtedly wild and uninhibited student days is your business and I am not asking for the scandals of your youth."

Watson's face was a bit red, but he smiled slightly. "I'm afraid it is your imagination that is too active," he answered Holmes. "Had you met me back then, I'm certain you would have found me unbearably dull. I spent long days and nights hunched over books in the library or getting intimately acquainted with the intestines of a corpse. Between that and training for rugby, there was little time to make friends outside of the team or the medical program. Time for romance was right out, though I assure you I did try. And so, I got my first as a free man with no path to follow and no one to show me what or who I should become. It was for that reason I took the army surgeon's course and threw my lot in with the Fusiliers. I meant to save some money so I could come home and set myself up in practice, but, well, you know how that turned out." He shrugged a bit sadly and gestured vaguely to his bad leg.

"My dear Watson, I assure you I did not intend to attack your character," Holmes said, though he knew his friend hadn't really been offended.

"Of course. It was a hard time completing the course, though I spent plenty of time with medical students. So, what would you like to know?"

"I have heard," Holmes said guardedly, "that medical students are most neglectful of all university men when it comes to their own well being."

Watson nodded. "There's quite a bit of truth to that idea, I'm afraid. The days were long and stressful, and it wasn't uncommon to find med students drunk from Friday night to Saturday morning then up studying until Monday morning using whichever stimulant would cure their hangover and keep them alert. Coffee was my stimulant of choice, but there were some more, well, questionable ones at use. I neither desired being drunk nor could afford heavy drinking, but I admit that I could sometimes be found among those escaping reality for a night. Why?"

"Did you ever encounter these during the course of your university days?" Holmes asked, and he pulled a jar out of his apron pocket. Watson stood, crossing and taking the jar. Inside were a few spotted mushrooms.

Watson frowned darkly. "Don't use these," he stated simply.

"I wasn't planning on it," Holmes assured him. "What can you tell me about them?"

"I may have known more at one point," Watson replied, "but I've since forgotten what their name is, and I'm not really certain what effects they are said to produce. All I can tell you is that an old roommate brewed a pot of tea using these once and didn't tell me since he thought I was out for the evening. I had some, and I've never been more violently sick. For a week I couldn't swallow any food without retching so harshly that acid from my stomach made my throat burn. It was all I could do to keep myself hydrated. Not a pleasant time, as you can imagine."

"Did you have any muscle spasms? Excessive sweating?"

Watson considered the question. "I seem to recall some muscle pain. I don't really remember, but now that I think of it I believe I also suffered a mild fever. I was more preoccupied with trying to stop vomiting and get on with my studies. Why?"

"I think," Holmes said, taking back the jar, "these innocuous seeming little plants have played a part in the murder of Hubert Bradley. Did you experience hallucinations?"

"No. I was simply sick, though I'm sure it would have been different if I wasn't a financially strapped, stressed student."

"Hmm? Why would that have made it different?"

Watson grinned at him playfully. "You can't deduce it?"

Holmes took the challenge, frowning in thought and bringing his hands up to his lips in that peculiar way of his after he had secreted the jar back into his pocket. "The factor that would most vastly change the outcome of the drug on a person's body would be if the person was taking any other medications or substances at the time of ingestion," he mused aloud, letting Watson follow his train of thought.

"Since you were evidently perfectly healthy before your ill-fated army service and presumably would not have drank the tainted tea had you known about it, I will eliminate that possibility that you were under the influence of any other substances at the time. And since you are of an average height and weight and there is no indication that you were abnormally large or small in university, I will take that out of consideration as well. My biggest clue surely must be that you mentioned your finances played a part… ah! I have it, Watson!"

He brought down his hands and lifted his chin in triumph. "Your roommate thought you were going to be out for an extended period of time, and so therefore it is probable you hadn't been present most of the day. You were strapped for cash, and were saving your funds by only eating at university and not indulging in better cuisine. Since you'd been out, you hadn't eaten yet and neither had you communicated any of your plans with your roommate. So, Watson comes home, is hungry, sees a fresh pot of tea, and indulges with an empty stomach to quench part of his appetite. The drug, therefore, was unable to seep into his bloodstream and instead made him violently ill. Had Watson eaten, his reaction would not have been so bad. Am I right?"

"As always, Holmes," Watson said with a smile.

"And your roommate?"

"Threw out the tea and never made more."

"Was he expelled from the program?"

"No. I didn't report him."

Holmes scowled. "You mean he got away with poisoning my Watson?"

"Holmes," Watson laughed, "I assure you, he apologized rather sincerely, and we are still acquaintances. There are instances in life which call for swift retribution, but this was not one of them. I promise.

"I suppose," Holmes grumbled. "Who was it?"

"After your needlessly dramatic response," Watson said, "I don't think it would do any good to tell you."

Holmes watched him steadily, then shrugged. "Well, well, I suppose I cannot force you. Up to a bit of adventure?"

"Always," Watson affirmed. "Do you know who the killer is?"

"I do now," he said with a nod. He pulled off his apron and goggles and began to fix his unruly hair. "Oh, and Watson?"

"Yes?"

"Will you tell me what you thought I was referring to when I asked if what they say about medical students is true? And why did you inherently take is as a negative?"

"Holmes, when students gossip about each other and rumors are spread, they are hardly for the better. No one goes around saying 'shall we discuss how studious and honorable the current class of graduates are over a cup of tea?'"

"Touche. So what was it?"

Watson blushed again, but huffed nonchalantly. "Well, the most prominent idea of us is that we're all alcoholics and quacks in the making. It did cross my mind, however, that you may be referring to the idea that, well," he paused, shifting uncomfortably for a moment. "That we're backstabbers who would do anything to get ahead," he finally murmured.

"Now that, Watson, I would never have associated with you," Holmes said sincerely.

"Thank you, Holmes," Watson replied, "it does seem a bit absurd to say it aloud." And when he smiled at Holmes, the detective was certain it was genuine.

Holmes smiled back, and took Watson's arm in his. "Come, Watson, the game is on!"

Thank you for reading my story. I sincerely hope you enjoyed.