I had not seen my friend Sherlock Holmes for more than a few minutes for several days. He ran in and out of our shared rooms at odd intervals, sometimes in various disguises, at other times in his own impeccable dress.
"Are you sure you do not need me on this case?" I asked him when I reentered the room after his latest client left. Although I had already assisted him on a few of the little problems people brought to him, I was, in those days, hardly the constant presence at his side many readers of my later stories seemed to think I was. However, I now knew him well enough to know how little care he took with his own health when on the chase.
"Not at all, Watson, my dear fellow," Holmes said cheerily. "It should not prove to be a very difficult case. I doubt it should take more than a couple of days to work out. Don't wait for me for dinner." With that, he was gone, the door slamming shut behind him. I shrugged and turned back to my reading, the latest medical journal from the Medical Society of London. If I wanted to return to practice in any capacity more serious than the few jobs I had had substituting for other doctors, I would have to keep up with the latest research.
"That was loud," Mrs. Hudson remarked, entering the sitting room. "I do hope he didn't break anything."
I suppressed a laugh, "It does not seem so, Mrs. Hudson." She shook her head and began to leave, muttering something under her breath about consulting detectives and disregard for furniture and walls.
"He didn't mention any instructions for his dinner, did he, Dr. Watson?" our landlady asked before closing the door.
"Oh, he mentioned to me not to wait for him to dine. I would assume he has no plans to return until late at night," I answered.
Mrs. Hudson sighed and rolled her eyes to the ceiling, "He never tells me anything. Thank you, Doctor." She closed the door behind her, and I returned to my reading, interrupted only by the arrival of my dinner several hours later.
Holmes did not return until after midnight, if he returned at all. In any case, I was long asleep.
The next day, Holmes was already gone before I awoke, although I had determined to be ready early as I had some advertisements for medical positions I wished to answer in person. I did not return until mid-afternoon, when I entered our sitting room to find Holmes seated in the middle of the floor surrounded by what appeared to be financial papers.
"Have you solved it?" I asked by way of greeting.
"No, Watson, it appears this case may be more baffling than I anticipated," Holmes said, not looking up from the circle of papers he had created. "It is fascinating how the smallest problems are often the most challenging and unique. For example, I wager you would not have guessed that one man's concern for his wife's pearl earrings would involve a connection to an underground gambling ring and the Bank of England!"
"No, I would not have guessed that," I said, waiting expectantly for more. However, Holmes was in a reticent mood and said no more, instead gathering up all the papers and leaving again, saying only that he would not be home yet again for dinner. I sighed and settled into the armchair with the newspaper. I was quite used to his odd hours, but I did hope he would be all right. I knew now how dangerous his cases could be, and quite often they did not seem to be so until it was almost too late.
I only saw him twice in the next two days, both times leaving disguised as a dockworker, obviously headed for less reputable London neighborhoods. I repeated my offer of assistance, to which he replied, "No, Watson, I shall be quite all right. Be sure to tell Mrs. Hudson-"
"-that you shall not be back in time for dinner," I finished. "I know. Be careful, Holmes."
"I will," Holmes called up the stairs as he left.
By the next evening, I was growing quite concerned. This case had obviously proved to be more complicated than he had initially thought, and I fervently wished he had thought to include me. But, I reasoned, he undoubtedly knew what he was doing.
I glanced up from my reading a couple of hours later, this time a yellow-backed novel I had begun several days previously but been unable to sustain enough interest in to finish. The clock indicated that it was only nine o clock, and I sighed. I was growing very bored, and I wished more than ever that Holmes had decided he needed my help after all.
I must have fallen into a light sleep, for barely ten minutes later, I was awakened by the sound of the door opening, and I jumped slightly. I calmed down once I realized it was only Holmes.
"Well, I think I have solved it," he said quietly. I surveyed him carefully. Holmes was not one to show weakness of any sort; it was one of the first things I had discovered about him, but now his eyes appeared dull and he was leaning against the doorframe tiredly.
"Holmes! Are you all right?" I asked, jumping up in concern.
"I-" Holmes began before swaying and collapsing to the floor.
"Holmes!" I cried, rushing to his side. He did not appear to be injured, merely exhausted. I wondered if he had driven himself beyond his endurance, then chided myself for it. Of course he had. He had made it clear to me that he considered the demands of the human body to be mere distractions from the work of the mind.
"This is exactly why you should have let me accompany you!" I said irritably as I gently moved him from the floor to the armchair. "Holmes? Can you hear me?'
He began to stir, blinking up at me. "Watson? What happened?"
"As near as I can tell, you fainted," I answered, smiling in my relief that he did not appear to be any worse for wear. "What the deuce have you been doing?"
"I have been working on my case," he said stubbornly, starting to sit up. Evidently the movement did not agree with him, for he placed a hand against his head and sat down again. "I did not expect it to take as long as all this."
"It's been five days. Have you even slept?" I asked.
"I am sure I must have," Holmes said, thinking. "It is probably more due to the fact that I don't eat on cases."
I had thought I no longer had the ability to be surprised by anything Holmes did. It would appear that I was wrong. "You don't…eat. On cases?"
"Digestion slows me down," Holmes said, as if this was a perfectly ordinary belief to hold. I sighed. He had evidently learned his health information the same way he had learned his astronomy; that is to say, not at all. I sighed.
"Holmes, the human body really is not designed to forgo food for five days straight. You are far too thin as it is. I insist you eat something right away. I will send for Mrs. Hudson, I'm sure she has something left over." Holmes looked about to protest but I cut him off. "Holmes, if you would not allow me to assist you on this case, at least let me administer to your health." God knows he needed someone to do so.
Holmes acquiesced meekly, before looking up at me in the middle of his dinner with a mischievous grin, "I did not know sharing lodgings with a doctor would be such a chore."
"Hmph," I said. "You should be grateful. Promise me you'll look out for yourself, Holmes. You're no use to anyone if you don't have the strength to solve cases."
Holmes nodded, "Rest assured, Watson, I will be certain to listen to my doctor more carefully from now on."
"Good," I said, enjoying our positions being switched for once. It was not often I managed to have Holmes listen to me. "While we're at it, we should probably discuss your tendency to leave your belongings everywhere."
Holmes held up a long, thin hand, laughing. "I have limits, Watson."
I shrugged with a good-natured smile, "I thought it was worth it to try."