December 14: "Rat catcher" (from Michael JG Meathook)
I'm finally feeling better. This one is based on a story my grandpa tells about his teenage years...
It was some months after the events I have now set down in The Hound of the Baskervilles took place when I went out to Dartmoor to visit Sir Henry. While I was in the area, I also called upon Dr. Mortimer and we exchanged some pleasantries before our talk turned to professional anecdotes.
"Here is one I imagine you've never heard before," said Dr. Mortimer. "I had this young chap come in Monday morning. Rode his horse over and limped on in my door. Had a couple stab wounds in the top of his foot, and not fresh ones, mind you. He had let it sit for some hours at least. As I was cleaning the wounds, I asked him how he came by the injury, and he said it was a pitchfork. I asked him why on earth he didn't come to me sooner, and he said that he didn't think it was right to bother me on a Sunday when all good folk are meant to be resting. Foolish lad! Well, then I asked him if the pitchfork was clean or dirty, and he said clean. The cheeky little liar! I soon got the truth out of him, though—he and his friends were killing rats in a barn when one of them tossed the pitchfork to him and it landed a bit short, and hit his foot instead. Well, I soon had him stitched and bandaged up and sent on his way, but have you ever heard of such a thing?"