Free The Adventure of the Tired Captain A Sherlock Holmes Case by K. Michael Gaschnitz Page A

faithful Mrs. Dobson put a comfo rting arm around her. Leaving the two women for the moment I observed several additional blood stains upon the stairs but the trail quickly vanished and I could find no further signs of a struggle. I hoped that the absence of a large amount of blood meant that my neighbour had suffered from no more than a superficial wound.
    With the maid in charge of the situation I advised Mrs. Anstruther that I was going to Baker Street to get help. I nervously paced up and down the front walk, smoking feverishly, waiting for a hansom to arrive. Giving the cabby the address we made our way slowly through the evening streets towards my former abode. The tedious journey gave me the opportunity, welcome or not, to reflect upon the events of the evening.
    Why had the two men intruded upon my neighbour’s quiet evening? What was the explanation of the shot which was heard and why had the trail of blood, which was found upon the stairs, suddenly vanished? And more importantly of all what had become of my wife and Dr. Anstruther? In all the turmoil which followed my arrival at my neighbour’s house I had neglected to even get a description of the men involved. Was one of them the lame man who had been observing the inhabitants of my household?
    The thick fog which had rolled in cut me off from the rest of mankind and I felt completely isolated save for the occasional diffuse glow from the street lights and the vague shadows of other vehicles.
    The cabby pulled his nag to a halt and I assumed we had arrived at Baker Street. The gas was on in Holmes’ rooms and I could just make out his hawk like silhouette as it passed in front of the window. Perhaps he already had a client but never the less I must consult with him. I was just about to ring the bell when I was almost bowled over by a gigantic and wild eyed young man hurrying out the front door.
    “Come in Watson, and sit by the fire,” my friend called out in a high strident voice.
    The invitation was a most welcome one as the evening had turned unseasonably cold.
    “It always amazes me that you can differentiate my step from the multitude of others that must ascend those stairs,” I said breathlessly, closing the door behind me.
    “Actually Doctor, I observed you alighting from your cab,” he replied laconically.
    “A dissatisfied client , Holmes?” I asked helping him right the overturned settee.
    “Mr. Challenger approached me with some cock and bull nonsense of his concerning the dinosaurs. He did not take it kindly when I disagreed with him.”
    He poured me a brandy as I seated myself in front of the cheery blaze.
    “So tell me Watson, what brings you out on such an abysmal evening?” he asked his steely eyes boring into mine.
    “Two men broke into my neighbor’s house and abducted my wife and for all I know murdered Dr. Anstruther,” I blurted out before downing my brandy in one gulp.
    “So it has come to that then,” he said quietly, almost as if speaking to himself. There was a faraway look in his eyes.
    “You knew something like this would occur?”
    “I only surmised that something untoward had ha ppened but I did not fathom its nature.”
    “How could you know that there was something amiss?” I asked. “The incidence occurred only within the last hour.”
    “It is simplicity itself. Your wife’s well being may be in jeopardy, and you have taken what you believe to be elaborate precautions to keep her safe, precautions which I may add included taking her from my safekeeping. Yet at a time when you should be together you have traveled halfway across the metropolis on this dreary night to come here.
    “That you are not visiting a patient is indicated by the absence of your medical bag. The smear of blood on your right index finger indicates that some violence may be involved. As a dutiful physician you would of course not neglect to wash your hands once your consulting hours were concluded at five o’clock. This indicates that