The Lost Files of Sherlock Holmes by Paul D. Gilbert Page B

greatly enhanced as a result of Holmes’s analysis.
    At the evening’s close, my last attempt at extracting information from Holmes met the same fate as my earlier ones.
    ‘I think, my dear Watson, an early night will be of greater benefit to us, for I am sure by morning the game will, most certainly, be afoot.’ The faint trace of a smile played briefly on his thin lips, as he perceived my failed attempt at concealing my annoyance and with a shrug, I bade him a curt goodnight and returned to my room.
    Despite Holmes’s sound advice, I found myself unable to sleep and I soon realized that Holmes was in a similar predicament, for a glimmer of light continued to creep under my door and the faint aroma of tobacco played at my nostrils.
    When I eventually surfaced in the morning, Holmes still sat as I had left him the night before and his haggard face bore every sign of a night totally bereft of sleep.
    ‘Holmes!’ I exclaimed, ‘I must protest at this flagrant and, as far as I can tell, unnecessary abuse you have subjected yourself to. All your plans are well in hand, so why the all night vigil?’
    His tired eyes looked up at me, his head moving slightly and unnervingly slowly. ‘You are quite right Watson, as far as I was concerned all the pieces were coming together splendidly and yet, it occurred to me as I was about to retire, that all my theories will either stand or fall on the results of the replies to my wires. If they should now prove contrary to my expectations I may well have put lives at risk. I have instructed Mrs Hudson to bring up the replies as soon as they arrive. I shall have only coffee for breakfast .’
    I realized that any protest about his non-partaking of food would fall on deaf ears and reluctantly I went on my errand.
    After we had breakfasted, Holmes on coffee, I on toast,marmalade and tea, we spent some of the most torturous hours that I have yet experienced.
    The lines of frustration and impatience contorted, still further, his already tired and exhausted features and his consumption of cigarettes was almost incessant as he continually paced up and down the room.
    I sat in anguish watching the inner turmoil of Holmes reveal itself as it ate away at him. Again and again, as he passed the bureau, I saw him fingering the handle of the drawer, the one I knew to contain his syringe and cocaine bottle. Yet on each occasion his stronger, professional intent prevented him from feeding his terrible habit and dulling the faculties he knew would soon be needed at their sharpest.
    The vigil finally ended at about half-past-one when Mrs Hudson arrived, somewhat breathlessly, in our rooms. With a bound Holmes was across the room to meet her, snatching the telegram from her hand as he hustled her out. Over the years Mrs Hudson’s tolerance of such behaviour and abuse had never ceased to amaze me.
    ‘Watson, quickly, see here, how my line of enquiry is at last bearing fruit. Ha!’ He exclaimed, ‘it is exactly as I thought.’
    Yet by the time I had reached his side he had already crumpled the paper in his hand and nonchalantly deposited it in the waste-paper basket.
    ‘Now really Holmes, you go too far!’ I exclaimed.
    Holmes looked at me furtively from the corner of one eye.
    ‘Very well Watson, you are quite right. We may have yet, I think, a little time before my second reply arrives. Time perhaps for a pipe and a chance for me to air my thoughts on this affair, such as they are.’
    Holmes reached for his Persian slipper containing his tobacco, and we each took our customary chairs as he began.
    ‘As you know, Watson, at the start I was somewhat reluctant to take up this challenge. Sir James’s arrogant manner and the apparent tedium of a missing person case had almost caused me to choose the boredom of total inactivity to the drudgery of such an undertaking. One most singular point and none other, brought about my change of mind.’
    ‘It was when Sir James mentioned Tordelli’s