Family

Carolanne Roe

The sitting room door of 221B Baker Street was thrust open vigorously, making a loud thud against the wall behind. Sherlock Holmes came strolling through purposefully and began removing his hat, gloves and coat without even looking up.

“Watson, my good man.” He called into the sitting room. “I have been at the mortuary all day! You will not believe what I have discovered about the post mortem bruising process…”

Holmes was stopped mid-sentence by Watson rising from his chair by the fire place. A middle aged woman rose from the couch opposite, a small boy remained on the floor playing with some wooden toys. The woman looked a little green as she faced Holmes outburst with a rather strained smile.

“Holmes,” Watson said. “This is Mrs Elizabeth Crowley.” Holmes extended his hand to the well-dressed Lady. “… nee Watson,” he continued.

Holmes eyes darted to Watson standing by his side. He managed to contain his shock slightly. He did not think there was a lot the mild mannered Dr Watson could do to shock him. Holmes eyes then darted to the floor where the child was sitting. Same sandy coloured hair as the Doctor, a familiarity in the facial structure, eye colour both green, ear lobe development similar… Holmes forced a strained smile. “A pleasure to meet you madam,” he said, smoothly.

Holmes indicated back to the chair she had just vacated while he threw his outer clothing items into a corner and sat himself in a chair by the fire place. It unfortunately put the child at his feet. “What brings you to Baker Street, Mrs Crowley?”

“Well I came to visit John, Mr Holmes. It has been a while since me or Hamish has seen him and he has very kindly agreed to a small favour.” Holmes could only assume ‘Hamish’ was the John H. Watson look-a-like sitting on the floor.

Watson smirked inwardly at his friend’s nonplussed expression .For once he had the upper hand. Holmes had used his superbly, brilliant, calculating, clinical mind, put two and two together and came up with five! He had better put him out his misery.

“Beth is my brother’s widow, Holmes, but has since re- married. The boy, my brother’s son, is my nephew.”

“Your brother was married?” Holmes asked.

“Didn’t get THAT from the pocket watch did you” Watson gloated as he smirked across at his friend, who simply raised an eyebrow, but pursed his lips.

Holmes turned back to Beth. “So, my dear. What is this favour you are in need of from the good doctor? No doubt Watson has informed you of my work and I would be happy to assist in any problem you may have.”

“Oh, that is very kind of you Mr Holmes but John hasn’t really talked about you much while I have been here.”

Watson grinned inwardly, ‘that’ll be a blow to his ego’.

“But I am aware of your great work, sir, as I do read the published journal entries John has written about your adventures together. I must say they sound so fascinating!”

Holmes face clouded. “Cases, madam, cases, not adventures, I am a consulting detective, not a treasure hunter,” he replied icily.

“Beth has many errands to run in London, Holmes, as she lives in Inverness and has had a long and tiring journey. I have offered to look after Hamish for a few hours, possibly the night, to give her time to accomplish all her tasks before she returns home by train tomorrow. It will keep him out from under her feet for a while at least.” He smiled jovially and leaned down towards the boy. “What do you say Hamish? A few hours with your Uncle John eh? We will have some fun, won’t we lad?”

The boy smiled back up at the group. “Yes Uncle! I am I going to stay here?” He asked excitedly.

“Of course” Watson replied cutting off Holmes smoothly, just as he was about to open his mouth with a possible objection.

“Really, Watson!” Holmes finally interrupted, a little angrily. “I have vital work to do, there are important experiments lying all around the sitting room! Baker Street is not place for a child!”

Beth looked uneasy then glanced around the rather messy room and began having second thoughts, some of those stories… “Well, I must say John; I think Mr Holmes may be right. If it is too dangerous to leave him here…”

“Nonsense!” Watson interjected. “He will be just fine. If I haven’t managed to kill myself with all Holmes’s toxic experiments over the years then the boy will be fine as well for one night.” Watson chuckled at his own joke.

After perhaps a half hour of further idle chit chat, Dr Watson escorted Elizabeth downstairs then called upon Mrs Hudson for some help in setting out space in his room where his nephew could sleep for the night. Holmes, glad to be alone once more, was sitting at his desk absorbed in mixing the correct quantities of chemicals for one of his experiments. He became acutely aware of a small presence standing just over his left shoulder. He turned around in his chair fully and looked at the boy. “Yes?”Holmes enquired.

“What are you doing?” Hamish asked, craning around Holmes to look at the items stretched out on the work bench.

“Working!” Was the detective’s rather short reply.

“Oh…” Then, “On what?”

“I am attempting to ascertain whether the residue I discovered on the body I examined day before last is in fact, gunpowder.”

“And is it?”

Holmes sighed irritably. “I do not know yet as I have not finished the test.”

“Can I try?”

“No.”

“Why not?” The boy asked rather petulantly.

“The experiment is very delicate, it is not for children.”

Hamish pursed his lips. “It does not look particularly difficult.”

“Watson!” Holmes suddenly called. No answer. “Watson!”

Watson appeared at the door of the sitting room. “Yes, Holmes?”

Holmes shot Watson a withering look that spoke volumes. The good doctor noticed his nephew leaning over Holmes work desk absorbed in probing the contents of jars.

“Err…” Watson stammered. “Hamish. Why don’t you get your coat on and we shall go out for a walk and some fresh air.”

“Can we ride in a hansom, Uncle?” Hamish asked excitedly.

“Of course we can.” Watson smiled and went to fetch his coat from upstairs. Holmes returned to his experiment satisfied he would now get peace and quiet. However a small voice in his left ear suddenly startled him from his work.

“Are you coming too, sir?”

“No, I am not coming with you and your uncle.”

“Why not?”

Holmes silently counted to ten. “Because I have important work to do.”

“Oh.” Then, “It’s not very much though, is it? That can’t possibly take you all day.”

“I have other things to do besides this.”

Hamish smiled, interested. “Like what?”

“It is of no concern of yours.”

“But I am interested!”

“Do you always ask so many questions?” Holmes finally asked, exasperated.

“Are you always so unforthcoming when answering questions?”The boy replied.

He thought for a moment before replying, “Yes. It is my job to question, not to be questioned”

Hamish nodded in understanding, but continued his vigil of looking across Holmes’s shoulder.

“Can I try?” He finally began again.

Holmes voice became threateningly low. “I have already said no.”

“Please?”

Holmes took a deep breath and remained silent, trying to focus on his work. After a few more strained silent minutes Watson appeared at the sitting room door dressed for outdoors.

“Come on Hamish” He called. “Put your coat on and we are ready to go.”

“Bye” The boy called behind him as he headed for the door. “See you later.”

“Not if I can help it.” Holmes muttered under his breath as he heard the click of the sitting room door closing.