Watson just shook his head with
recognition of the gruesome possibility. “We are here, so why couldn’t he be as
well. Maybe it has something to do with our destiny and our pursuit of him all
these years. Some thing, common to that would make scientific sense to me”.
“More time later to dwell on why, Watson”, snapped Holmes(Doyle)
we must be observant, pool our knowledge and then we will perhaps gain a clue or two
What can you say about your bunk mate on the other side of the curtain?
The constable is watching him as well.” asked Sherlock (Doyle) in a low voice
as he nodded in the direction of the other prisoner.
“I have done a bit of eavesdropping”,
Watson continued with a deliberate whisper. “They keep asking him questions
about why he was at Doyle’s place and what business he had there. But he keeps
to his story that he was there to give an appraisal for removal of a stump and
fell over it on his way back to his truck. He is claiming a back injury and
that since the fall he has paralysis and cannot walk and claims to be in quite
a bit of pain.”
“Anything else, Watson” Sherlock insisted.
“Yes they accuse him of ransacking your
look alsike’s office and say his finger prints are all over the inside of the
office.” You know they had just come into use in the turn of our century in
forensics. I can only imagine how good they are for crime solving in this
“Well he must be the prime suspect then,”
Sherlock’s demeanor changed suddenly. “I have a thought you keep your ears
open and I will go to the Doyle house with Julia and examine the scene myself.
With that he stood and beckoned Julia to, “Lead me home.”
Watson watched patiently and somewhat
alone as his friend retreated out of the charity ward. As he lay there he had
the feeling that things were going to get worse before they go better.
Not long after Holmes and Julia left the
ward the constable came round the curtain to see him.
“Glad you’re awake fella, its time we
asked you some questions. They read you your rights when they arrested you but
I am supposed to tell em to you again.” The constable was blunt.
“ Mr Watson, you are under arrest for
suspicion of attempted murder of Arthur Doyle, theaft of certain documents related
to the Hartford city Pension Plan Trust and the breaking and entering of Mr
Arthur Doyle’s property and office, oh yeah and vagrancy. No one can find a trace of your identity. You have the right to remain silent…………”
Watson listened with a heavy heart knowing
his premonition was now hanging heavily over him like a cloud of dark gas. This
he thought would be one of their most difficult cases yet. He was retreating
into himself when he heard it. The clue, that would continue to resound until
he could finally demonstrate his innocence.
From the other side of the curtain muffled
a bit no doubt by bed covers, came the unmistakable sound of a “fart” followed
by the all too familiar scent of a cloud of bowel gas. The constable heard it,
snickered: made a face when he smelled it but was otherwise unaffected by the
bowel gas. Watson knew exactly what it meant and smiled at the constable with a
bold grin of relief as if he had just passed the gas himself.