By

Maura Kelly

"Watson, you are finally returned." Holmes stated dramatically. "From where ever it was you disappeared to."

Watson had walked through the door and found Holmes still up and waiting for him. He wasn't surprised. Lately Holmes had taken to staying up and waiting for him to return home. He knew Holmes's curiosity had been aroused by Watson's constant disappearances. For sometime Watson had been absenting himself for hours at a time. It had annoyed Holmes, though Holmes really shouldn't complain since he was well known for regularly doing the same thing to Watson while he blithely pursued a case. But Watson realized that Sherlock Holmes, because of the type of man he was and the profession he practiced, was inquisitive.

Of course, if it had been anyone else but Watson, Holmes would not have even taken the time to care let alone ponder of someone vanishing at all hours of the day or night. Unless of course it related to a case he was working on, but this wasn't a case, this was Watson. Steady, predictable Watson. He could just imagine Holmes' thoughts. Watson had gotten very good over the years at reading his friends' expressions. At the moment annoyance was uppermost in Holmes countenance.

"Too bad you were so late again, Watson, you missed another marvelous supper prepared by Mrs. Hudson." Holmes said pointedly.

Holmes's attitude didn't bother Watson at all. He was quite aware that his friend was bothered that he had not yet figured out where Watson kept vanishing too. It had taken Holmes almost a month too even become aware that Watson was gone at odd hours. Holmes had been engaged on a case, that hadn't included Watson, and as usual when working on a case Holmes's energies were concentrated only on that problem so he hadn't really been aware of his friend at all. Watson reflected that he rarely knew where Holmes was, when he was hot on a scent. Yet Holmes always assumed that when he needed Watson, Watson would be right were he expected him to be. He always considered Watson the dependable one in the partnership, but lately Watson hadn't been right to hand and it had upset Holmes.

Watson realized that for him to deviate from his usual and anticipated patterns unnerved Holmes. Once Holmes became aware that Watson wasn't where he should be he started doing what he did best, he investigated, and ran into a veritable brick wall. Watson was rather pleased by this. He knew Holmes, when he became aware of the situation, would eventually begin to wonder what was going on but with his usual good manners not to inquire into Watson's private life, he did the only thing he could. He started up an inquiry into Watson's mysterious comings and goings. The fact that Holmes had no case he was working on at the moment gave him more impetus to pursue his new line of investigation.

Although Watson was cognizant of this he hadn't really meant to turn his absences into a mystery. But since Holmes didn't have any cases pending and this to tended to send his friend into a depression, Watson had decided to give Holmes a problem too keep him busy. Watson happily realized his idea was working when last week he had caught one of the Baker Street Irregulars on the back of the Hansom he was traveling in. Since he knew many of his friend's methods it wasn't hard to figure where Holmes would start first in his investigation. Watson had politely asked Wiggins to get off the cab and he had hailed another hansom and continued onto his destination, but just to be sure there was no other tail he had changed cabs again before he reached his first objective. One could never be too careful when dealing with Sherlock Holmes.

Pleased with his perspicacity, Watson sat down in his chair and observed his friend. He could not detect any of Holmes's habitual boredom and lethargy, which usually accompanied the end of a case and the beginning of the restless wait for another. Yes, Watson thought this idea was working better then he imagined. Just what the doctor ordered.

"I'm sorry, I missed dinner, Holmes. I was engaged in a particularly difficult game of billiards with Chapman and lost track of the time." Watson apologized, pulling out his pipe and joining Holmes in a smoke.

"Billiards, Watson?" Holmes said skeptically glancing at the clock. " It is almost quarter past two."

"I know it is rather late but there is a billiards tournament going on at the club and I am one of the competitors. Chapman was my designated opponent this round."

Watson had known to be able to keep Holmes guessing he could not afford to leave any hint of the location he actually had been too. He had made it a habit to always stop off at his club, change and play billiards or read the paper or dine if he had chanced to miss a meal. Anything to confuse the issue. So far Holmes had not been able to discern anything from his clothes. He also had made a point to always have his shoes carefully polished as well.

"It must have been a very draining game of billiards, Watson, you look all done in." Holmes voiced some concern.

"Yes, it was quite tiring, Holmes, I never knew Chapman was such a good player."

And I never realized what a good competitor, you have turned out to be Watson, I am very impressed with your skill." Holmes commented with admiration.

Watson knew that Holmes was not referring to his billiard playing, but the diversion the two of them were engaged in at the moment. The praise and pride he heard in his friend's voice pleased him. A compliment from Sherlock Holmes was to be prized indeed.

"But eventually you will not be skillful enough to evade the better player, Watson."

"I am aware of that Holmes, but the game is always entertaining while it lasts."

"Yes, it is, isn't it?" Holmes smiled quickly in appreciation and got up from his chair. "Well, I think it is time for bed. You might consider doing the same yourself, Watson."

"I won't be far behind you, Holmes, I think I'll just finish off this pipe. Goodnight, Holmes."

"Night, Watson."

Watson watched as Holmes headed towards his room. He was right of course he couldn't keep Holmes held at bay for much longer. Watson knew who the superior player was in this game. It didn't matter really, the purpose of the game had been fulfilled his "patient" hadn't displayed any of his usual boredom or depression. Watson expected Holmes to catch onto him very soon. He chuckled to himself, actually Holmes almost had him yesterday. But because Watson had gotten very good over the years at recognizing Holmes in his many disguises, he was able to elude him quite easily once he had identified the tinker following him as Holmes. Holmes should be proud he was a good teacher and Watson was now able to discern the one characteristic that couldn't be altered by a disguise, the ears.

***

Watson was bone weary but very satisfied with tonight's work. He didn't usually venture out in this area at this time of night. It wasn't safe, but the unexpected call couldn't be denied. He would be glad to get home. It was quite late and hoping for a cab in this neighborhood at this time of the night was hopeless. He knew he probably should have had the cabby wait for him but it was too late now. Besides he doubted whether any self-respecting cabdriver could be persuaded to hang around and wait in the East End section of London known as Whitechapel. He needed to go only a few more blocks to cross Aldgate and he would be able to find a cabby. Watson thoughts strayed as he looked around him at the streets of Whitechapel.

The East End and particularly Whitechapel hadn't changed much since the Ripper murders of '88. The poverty the, the disease, the filth, the decay seemed worse then ever. When he and Holmes had come here in search of the Ripper he had been appalled at the conditions in the East End. He saw the despair of the people forced to live under these terrible circumstances with no hope and no future. Watson had been especially touched by the plight of the women and children. He had made a decision then that he wanted to help in anyway he could to alleviate some of the suffering he had seen.

So he had offered his services to the clinic that was located in the East End. Sad to say the only clinic in the East End. It made it hard for the patients to get there so he and the other doctors that contributed their time would often go out to the patients that needed it. The woman he had helped tonight had been badly beaten by her common law husband. A practice that was all too common in this section of the city. She had sent her young daughter to the clinic and Watson had volunteered to go and see if he could help her. She could never have made it to the clinic. Her husband had beaten her quite badly. The husband had come home before Watson was finished with the wife and had demanded he leave. Watson did leave but only when he had finished with his patient.

So here he was wandering the streets of Whitechapel in the early hours of the morning. This was his little mystery, the one that had intrigued Holmes. He mused on the fact that Holmes had not yet figured out where Watson disappeared too. He was rather proud of that but also puzzled. It wasn't easy keeping Sherlock Holmes guessing. He had thought that after the other night's conversation with Holmes there had been a veiled warning that he wasn't that far behind Watson.

As Watson's thoughts strayed he momentarily let his guard down. What alerted him to his surroundings and his danger was Holmes's voice.

"Watson, behind you!"

How could that be? Watson turned around but not fast enough as he felt a knife slice through his upper arm. The momentum of the attack sent him flying into the wall of the slaughterhouse he had just been passing. As he fell he saw out of the corner of his eye the quick moving figure of Holmes, in the disguise of a laborer jump the man with the knife, as he tried another attack on Watson. Holmes deftly deflected the knife of the attacker and laid him out cold with a quick upper right cross.

Holmes pulled out a constable's whistle and blew. He then hurried to Watson side. "Watson, are you all right? Did he cut you?" Holmes started pulling off Watson's jacket to check the wound as he spied the blood on Watson's upper arm.

"Holmes where did you come from?" Watson asked bewildered. He watched Holmes as he used a handkerchief to staunch the bleeding.

"Good, it doesn't look too bad." Holmes looked at Watson and smiled. "I was following you."

"Ah, you found me out. How long?" Watson asked curiously as Holmes helped him to stand.

"Since the day of our last conversation."

"Mmm, thought so."

"You were good Watson, I was surprised it took me as long as it did. Your trips to your club to clean up after you worked at the clinic was a masterful blind. I wasn't able to read anything from your clothes."

"What tipped you then?"

"Your revolver."

"What?"

"One doesn't take one's gun to one's club, Watson.. And I did advise you never to go east of Aldgate without it."

"My gun?" Watson was bemused.

Holmes had walked back over to the man who had attacked Watson. He was still out cold. "Watson, do you know this man?'

Watson slowly walked over and joined Holmes. "The husband. That doesn't surprise me."

"The husband, Watson, really I'm surprised at you." Holmes teased gently.

"He beat his wife badly tonight." Watson told Holmes as they were joined by a couple of constables known to both he and Holmes in answer to Holmes whistle. "He came home before I was finished treating her. He was none too happy to find me there."

"Yes, but that didn't stop you from helping her anyway, did it, Watson." Watson noted Holmes watching him covertly as he addressed himself to the constables. " I want this man arrested for attempted murder, gentleman, I'll swear out a warrant in the morning."

"Very good, Mr. Holmes"

"And could one of you get us a hansom, I need to take Dr. Watson over to the clinic to get his wound treated."

"Right away, Mr. Holmes."

"You all right, Watson? Holmes asked with concern.

"I'm fine, Holmes really. The injury is minor. I'm tired though, it's been a long day."

"And a long night." Holmes added. "After we get you stitched up, it's back to Baker Street for a good breakfast and some needed sleep." Holmes smiled. "Just what the doctor ordered I think."

THE END