The Dead Can Wait by Robert Ryan

what you say sounds dangerously like pacifism.’
    ‘Common sense.’
    ‘So you think. And I genuinely think this will shorten the war. You have my word on that.’
    ‘Your word that you believe it will bring about a rapid cessation of hostilities? But you can’t be certain?’
    Churchill made a snorting sound. ‘Of course not. What guarantees are there in wartime?’
    ‘I see more broken men,’ said Watson, ‘on all sides. I will not be party to that.’
    Churchill’s voice came from his boots. ‘There is one broken man you will be party to, though, I’ll wager.’
    Watson felt a flame of anger flicker inside him. The reservoir of residual goodwill he felt towards the MP drained away, as if a tap had been opened. He suspected what was coming, but asked anyway. ‘What do you mean by that?’
    Churchill picked a few strands of tobacco from the tip of his tongue. ‘Holmes has had to be detained, for his own safety.’
    ‘Detained?’ Watson half shouted in disgust. ‘Detained where? And why? He is not a well man.’
    ‘So I hear. Nevertheless, he has been detained and will remain detained until our weapon is deployed. The longer you delay—’
    ‘Are you blackmailing me?’ Watson spluttered. ‘With the health of an old man who has served his country well.’
    Churchill considered this. ‘I suppose I am. For a good cause.’
    Watson made a disparaging noise. ‘A war such as this is never a good cause.’
    ‘Sir!’ Churchill growled. ‘The freedom of this country, of our way of life, is at stake! And you worry about a few windy soldiers. Yes, I will let Holmes rot, and you and half of goddamned London, if it means we can strike a decisive blow.’
    The MP had gone quite puce. Watson thought he might suffer a heart attack. Part of him wished it so. Watson took a breath and spoke as calmly as he could. ‘Free Holmes and I shall help you.’
    ‘Do I look like a fool?’ Churchill replied. ‘Where is your incentive then? Get to the bottom of this, I will tell you where he is. You can fetch him yourself.’
    ‘And what if I can’t solve the mystery?’
    ‘I think we’ll cross that bridge as and when we come to it.’ Churchill sensed an advantage and pushed it home. ‘But I am not an unreasonable man. Do this for me, Major, and I promise never to interfere in your life again.’
    The clock ticked while Watson went through his options. He felt like a chess piece, blocked in whichever direction he moved.
    ‘Am I to be physician or detective?’ Watson asked at last.
    Churchill gave a sly smile that Watson wanted to dash from his mouth. ‘There was a time when you were both.’
    Holmes shook his head at this misconception of his role in the partnership. ‘Do they not have their own doctor at this . . . establishment?’
    ‘Their MO is one of the dead,’ grumbled Churchill. ‘Went along for the ride to study conditions in—’ He stopped himself. ‘He was the last to die. They have brought in other medical men, but no plausible theory has emerged so far. The doctors are baffled and the only witness remains stubbornly mute. So, as you can see, a peculiar set of skills is required. Your skills, Watson.’
    ‘When was all this?’
    ‘A week ago.’
    ‘A week?’
    ‘Yes. Time is pressing. How long do you normally need?’ asked Churchill. ‘To cure these types of people?’
    These people. Churchill, like so many commanders, didn’t understand what had happened to the damaged men. No doubt he, too, considered their affliction due to a lack of backbone. Even the word ‘cure’ was wrong. You could never take away their experiences; just get them to live alongside them without it destroying them any further.
    ‘Assuming he has some kind of battlefield trauma? Every case is different. Four weeks—’
    ‘You have five days,’ Churchill said in tones meant to brook no argument. ‘I heard you worked wonders with that Fairley.’
    ‘That was different, in that I had a previous relationship to build