Prompt: Holmes and Watson have to use the London Underground, from YoughaltheJust
My friend Sherlock Holmes could be unpredictable and erratic one moment, the next so entirely stubborn about the exact way he wished to go about his business that it could be a trial to anyone forced by proximity to go along with his whims.
This became apparent to me early in my days at Baker Street, when neither my health nor my finances allowed me much freedom in how I spent my days. We had gone for a walk, as Holmes wished to replenish his store of tobacco, and I knew that languishing in our shared rooms was detrimental to my recovery, so I ought to make an effort to go out as much as possible when the weather allowed.
The day was fine thus far, and so our errand to the tobacconist's turned into a leisurely stroll in the park. Still getting to know my mysterious fellow lodger, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Holmes's penchant for observation and deduction meant that he quietly deduced lives and personalities of the passersby for my benefit, and his sardonic sense of humor was on full display. I often found myself breathless with laughter at his remarks.
All too soon, as London is wont to do, the weather began to grow foul. The skies turned grey and the ever-present fog settled until it seemed as if dusk had fallen early. "That is disappointing," I said. It seemed as if every time I felt well enough to resume my pre-Army life, some outside influence saw fit to deny me that chance. Irrational, I knew, so I did not mention my feelings to Holmes other than to say, "I suppose we ought to return to Baker Street."
"Yes," he said. "I shall hail us a cab."
I looked dubiously at the streets, where few carriages of any sort were to be found at this time of day. The few passing cabs ignored my friend's outstretched hand, presumably already in use. After several minutes of this, the cold had seeped into my bones and the fog was making it more difficult to breathe. Curse this London weather! I had disliked the heat of India, but at least one knew it was always going to be hot there.
I looked around to see if there might be any other way of returning home and found an entrance to an Underground station across the street. "Holmes," I said. "Let's take the Underground."
"You cannot be serious," Holmes said. "I never take the Underground, Watson."
This seemed to me to be an extraordinarily strange stance to take, particularly when the weather was so poor we had few other options. I had no qualms about the Underground, having taken it before. It certainly was the cheapest option, and Holmes's penchant for cabs had more than once eaten into my finances in ways I could little afford. "Holmes, I cannot stand out in this fog indefinitely until a cab deigns to take us," I said forcefully. Even then, I knew I had little chance of overriding my companion's opinion. Still, if all else failed I would take the Underground myself and Holmes might find his own way home.
To my surprise, however, Holmes glanced at my walking stick, upon which I was leaning heavily, and nodded. "Very well," he said. "Lead on, Watson, as you are the more familiar with the Underground."
I nodded and led Holmes across the street and down the stairs to the station. The attendant took our fare, which was very little considering how close we were to Baker Street. I saw Holmes's look of shock at the price. "I see why you wish to make use of this system," he said at last.
He was hardly any more well off than I was at that time. I have little idea of why he wished to spend what little he had on expensive cab fares constantly.
"Is it not dangerous to have a train in an enclosed space like this?" Holmes asked as we waited for the train to arrive. "The soot alone must make it difficult to breathe, and I imagine the threat of fire is considerable."
I stared at him in some surprise. I had thought he disliked the Underground after having had at least some experience with it. "Holmes, have you never taken the Underground?" I asked.
"Not once," Holmes said. He smiled at the look on my face. "You forget I spent my youth in the countryside, and came to London only to set myself up as consulting detective. I have not found the set routes of the Underground useful in my course of work, which takes me to such disparate places in London I need the freedom of a cab."
This did make some sense, though I had used the Underground extensively as a student and a young doctor at St. Bart's and found it extraordinarily useful. It amazed me still that humanity had progressed to build something so wondrous, that connected all the far-flung areas of London so that they were each reachable in a matter of half an hour's train ride, at most. "I am no expert," I began. "But I have never found the soot and smoke to be a problem before. Have you noticed any smell of smoke at all?"
"None," Holmes said. "I wonder what they have devised to vent the smoke; it must be a great feat of engineering. I should be very interested to learn of it."
"As to fire, I have never heard of one, and the Underground has been in use nearly twenty years," I said. "Another great engineering marvel, surely."
"Indeed," Holmes said. His keen eyes followed our fellow passengers as they bustled to and fro. "The capacity for observation is unmatched here, Watson. I know of few other places the classes mingle so freely."
While aristocrats rarely used any sort of public transportation, all others mixed on London's Underground, even the poorest, for the fare was far cheaper than that of the 'bus or a cab, and the stations, handsomely decorated, provided shelter during the day for those who had none.
"The potential for crime is just as great," Holmes said. "Were I planning a murder, I count no fewer than five ways to execute it here and have it counted as an accident."
My fellow lodger was still largely a stranger to me, yet it was not the first time I had cause to be worried about something he said. I had already determined that had Sherlock Holmes turned to crime instead of fighting it, he would have been a formidable opponent.
Seeing my expression, Holmes laughed silently. "Rest assured, Watson, such things are only intellectual exercises. It is useful in my profession to be able to plan out such things, to think like a criminal might."
"I suppose so," I said. "This is our train."
"No compartments?" Holmes asked.
"It is not practical on such a short journey," I said. Instead, the carriage was open with seats arranged throughout, and bars on the ceiling for those standing to hold.
"The great equalizer," Holmes mused, as he stood in front of me, having graciously allowed me to take the only empty seat. He looked around at our temporary traveling companions. "This is altogether fascinating. I shall have to tell the Irregulars to add the Underground stations to their rounds."
That they were not already doing so seemed to me an unusual oversight on my friend's part, but he had the most extraordinary limits, so I said nothing.
We arrived soon enough at Baker Street, where the fog had only grown thicker, and we gratefully sank into our armchairs to wait out the weather with a cup of tea and a cheery fire. "Thank you for that edifying experience, Watson," Holmes said. "I shall not overlook the Underground again."
He did not, though I do not believe he ever again took it to reach a destination, preferring the freedom of cabs. Every so often, though, he would take a turn on the Underground to stretch his deductive powers when bored, and he maintained an exact map of the ever expanding lines in his mind so he might know London belowground as well as he knew it above.