It is June. A glorious summer day, but Sherlock is bored, very, VERY bored. What should Watson do when Sherlock is in such a state and of all days for this to be the situation, the very day of Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. He must try to occupy Sherlock’s mind of course, but how?
I have been asking myself all morning how to get Holmes out of his ever-blackening mood. “I say Holmes, all the papers only have news of the Jubilee. I fear there’s nothing to be done for it. Why don’t we go for a stroll and see for ourselves?” That only earned me a scathing look and a haughty retort. “Are you out of your mind Watson? There is a man giving out tobacco and alcohol on the streets. Every dull-witted simpleton will be out and about today. I am in not any mood to deal with those wretched fools today. Really, what can you be thinking.” Holmes opened the last paper, glancing at it quickly before standing up quickly and throwing it to the ground. “Confound this day!”, he yelled and stalked off toward the kitchen.
What a shame, I thought to myself. It is a lovely day after all. How wonderful it would be to take a stroll and enjoy the weather. Of course, I couldn’t expect Holmes to tolerate the chaos caused by the Jubilee, unless of course there was a murder scene at the end of it. I must think of something and quickly, before he decided to decorate another wall in buckshot to alleviate his foul mood.
I dropped into my chair, wracking my brain trying to think of something, anything to do with this woe begotten day. It is too late for a trip to the country. Bah, even if I had suggested it earlier, we have just recently returned from the Cornish peninsula from that rest suggested by the doctor. For all the good that did him. Holmes had managed to find another case and whatever rest and relaxation he did eventually get has apparently been too much for him if his current state is any indication.
A visit to Mycroft? Hardly something to put Holmes in a good mood; and, I would have to deal with Mycroft as well. Violin? No, no, he would recognize that as a feeble attempt it is to lighten his mood. Cold cases? Perhaps digging through some of Holmes’ old cases to find something to discuss? No, Holmes would just think I was writing about whatever it was, that surely won’t work. Perhaps an unsolved case? Jack the Ripper? No, that was a sore point with Holmes as the Yard never requested his assistance, despite their very obvious need at the time. And now, with the murders stopped and the trail grown so cold over the years, that would surely do nothing but worsen the situation. Lunch perhaps at the …oh what am I thinking, even if we could find a hansom, the streets are crowded and I’m sure the eateries are over-filled.
Holmes strode back in the room and threw himself into his chair, breaking me out of my reverie. Without thinking I leapt to my feet and blurted out, “I challenge you to a single stick match!” No sooner had the words left my mouth, did I immediately regret them. Sherlock’s mouth dropped open for only a second before he pursed his lips and said, “Good god man, what has gotten into to you today. You cannot be serious.” “I am utterly serious, I assure you,” I stuttered. “Very well, if you insist,” said Holmes and promptly turned on his heel.
Holmes walked back into the room holding 2 sticks and tossed one to me. I am not at all sure how, but I caught it. He threw off his robe and tossed it on the chair and kicked off his house slippers. He stepped his right foot forward and lifted the stick over his right shoulder with his left arm down at his side. I awkwardly imitated his stand and said shakily, “En guard.” Why did I say that? I inwardly cursed at myself.
Holmes chuckled, nodding his head at me slightly. In the blink of an eye, he twirled the stick in an X, striking both sides of my front leg and before I could take another breath, twirled the stick in another X, tapping both sides of my collarbone, ending with a quick tap to the left side of my head. “I’m afraid you have lost quite badly dear chap. You didn’t even get a hit.” Holmes shook his head and laughed. “I really do not know what you are about today Watson.”
“Holmes! You didn’t even give me a chance to…I …I never…” I huffed, dropped the stick to the floor and threw myself back into my chair. “I was simply trying to get you out of that dark mood you’ve been in all day!” I was beside myself.
I held my hands up. “I surrender, you have put me at my wits end old fellow.” I dropped my hands into my lap, threw my head back and muttered, ”Damn the Jubilee.”
“Is that what this is about?”, queried Holmes, shaking his head. “You could have just…” Holmes stopped mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly. He snatched his robe from the chair, tossed it on, slipped into his house shoes and grabbed his pipe from the mantle and began filling it with tobacco.
"What…” I started, just as I heard the bell ring as he dropped into this chair and lit his pipe. I stared at him, my mouth agape.
“Well don’t just stand there, man. Have Mrs. Hudson bring some tea. I hope our visitor has brought us a challenge. I do believe any more of you trying to entertain me may bring you to the brink of insanity!”
And that, dear readers, is how not to keep Sherlock busy on a sunny day in June during Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee.
