December 9: "The perfect winter breakfast" (from mrspencil)
Continued from Dec 7.
After the hot supper and pipe by the fire that Holmes had so wisely recommended, I had taken myself off to bed, rather earlier than my usual hour, so that I awoke in the morning before the sun had made more than the feeblest attempt at lighting the sky out my window.
Upon descending the stairs, I was unsurprised to see that Holmes was already up. Whether he had slept for eight hours or none was more than I could say, even as his longtime friend, fellow-lodger, and physician. But sleep or no, he was his usual self, and engaged in some delicate chemical study. I lit another lamp and took up a book for a little while until I might expect breakfast to be ready.
In an hour or so, the sun was up and breakfast was upon the table. Mrs. Hudson had really outdone herself today, with delicious kippers and sliced tomatoes in addition to the more usual sausage, eggs, and toast. As I ate my kipper, I made a mental note that I should pay her a compliment about it, and I was helping myself to the sausage when a telegram arrived.
"Aha!" Holmes exclaimed. "It is just as I suspected. Come Watson! We must return to Charlotte Street at once." He scrawled out a reply to the telegram, and rushed to the door. I cast a last longing glance at my uneaten eggs and toast.
"Surely five minutes will make no difference," I argued. "By the time Lestrade receives your missive and leaves for the Yard to meet us there, we shall still be in good time."
"Lestrade has left the Yard already," Holmes replied impatiently, tugging on his coat. "Come on, man!"
With a sigh, I followed suit, snatching up the remaining toast to finish on the drive. The eggs I would, regretfully, have to leave behind.