Work Text
1909
[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D. (retired)]
This was the year that old age pensions first started to be paid and if anyone so much as smirks in this vicinity then..... there may well be Pouting! As well as that achievement there was nearly another one when explorer Ernest Shackleton was forced to turn back having got to within barely a hundred miles of the South Pole. I could have remarked that the temperatures there were likely as cold as Sherlock's feet of a morning, but I knew full well that such a quip would have had Severe Consequences. And it did!As I have mentioned elsewhere we still received a lot of correspondence through Mrs. Lindberg in Baker Street, even five years after our departure. There were of course many appeals for Sherlock to investigate this or that case, but from time to time we had contacts with old friends who asked for help. One such came at the start of this year when the twins Balin and Balan Selkirk, who had worked at the molly-houses in the days of Sherlock's half-brother Mr. Campbell Kerr, inherited a large plot of land over in the United States from an aunt they had not even been aware was still alive, only for the whole thing to become entangled in legal problems. Sherlock was able to use his contacts to sort things out for them, and they received some handsome proceeds from the sale of the land a part of which they insisted on donating to Sherlock's orphanage.
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1909
[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D. (retired)]
For the first time in two years I came to London – with Sherlock of course – to see two new establishments; a plush new department store called Selfridge's and the new Victoria and Albert Museum. I always thought that the museum was one of the greatest Victorian contributions to society, enabling people to learn about different things in peace and tranquillity. That was also the year of the famous (or infamous) People's Budget, the first to levy large taxes on the wealthy. Personally I thought that this was a bad idea, not just because it would hit Sherlock's family (most of whom I had little regard for anyway) but because those affected might well depart for another country leaving England worse off than before. I also suspected, correctly as it turned out, that the Chancellor of the Exchequer Mr. David Lloyd George and his on-off ally the unpredictable President of the Board of Trade Mr. Winston Churchill were using it as a way to win control over the House of Lords for their Liberal government. Early that autumn we had another visitor at the cottage. Mr. Henry Templar was the second son of our Lancashire friend the then Inspector Josiah Templar, and the younger man (who was very much the image of his illustrious father) was a journalist at the 'Times' newspaper. He had learned that his father, who had been widely expected to be promoted to chief-inspector due to a recent retirement at that level, was to be passed over because two people on the selection panel did not like his ancestry (i.e. the colour of his skin). Sherlock was able to apply pressure in the right places and our friend won the promotion that he so richly deserved. It was good to help good people.
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1909
[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D. (retired)]
“I do not see why you are so set against this idea of flying”, said someone who was not getting laid or doing any laying any time soon. “This Aviation Week seems an excellent idea, and they will doubtless offer flights for anyone who wishes to see the earth from on high.”“I do not wish to see the earth from more than six feet away, thank you very much”, I said not at all frostily. “If God had meant for man to fly, he would have given him wings.”“I am after all named after an angel”, Sherlock mused. “Would you object to me going up in.....”He stopped, belatedly catching my horrified expression. He was besides me in a trice, wrapping two strong arms around me and pulling me close until I had stopped shivering.“But why would I need the heavens”, he smiled, “when I have you on earth?”Maybe he was getting laid, or even doing some laying. Very soon!
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1909
[Narration by Doctor John Watson, M.D. (retired)]
At the end of November the House of Lords rejected the controversial People's Budget, paving the way for a general election the following year. Our cottage in Sussex seemed ever more a haven from such political games.A couple of weeks later we went to London to meet up with an old friend, Chief-inspector Chatton Smith. He had come to London as part of his recent promotion, which had been partly brought about by his solving a particularly sensitive case involving several important people in Cumberland, all of whom were now marking the festive season from behind bars. We met him at my favourite restaurant in Trafalgar Square – of course I ordered pie! - and Sherlock asked after Mr. Smith's lover Mr. Macdonald.“As bad as ever!” Mr. Smith smiled. “He passed sixty recently and when Chummy and the boys came round to help celebrate I made the mistake of saying that Fray was getting old. At least I was lucky enough to do it in a Friday; I was still limping when I went back to work on Monday. Oh, and Fray says to say thank you for helping get Fray Junior transfer into Greycoats; the boy was desperate to go there especially after his old school had to close down.”“And the Triple Tartan Threat?” Sherlock smiled.“All still in the business”, Mr. Smith said. “And Chummy still lives with them in that house he purchased for them all in Maryport, although they all insist on coming round to 'check up' on Fray and me from time to time. Thank the Lord that we have staff who come in and can be put off for the day; the six of us can have a Naked Day even if Chummy does strut so after he has 'seen to' the boys.”“Terrible the way that some men strut like that”, I said innocently. Sherlock gave me the sort of look that made it clear he could see through my sardonicity, and I shuddered most pleasurably.“Fray is wonderful with his namesake”, our visitor smiled. “He gets all mushy and dewy-eyed when the boy calls him Grandfather, although when I did the same after he had left the other week, I lived to regret it! He said that real men do not cry, even though he had me in tears. He sprained his ankle last Thursday – yes, because of that – so he could not come with me. I was almost relieved at the rest, until he and Chummy somehow managed to arrange for the boys to all have two days off from the station so the four or them could all come with me. They are all waiting for me back at the hotel; I can only hope my 'can-do' cousin has taken their edge off, so to speak.”“Good luck!” I smiled.“I will need it!” he said fervently.He doubtless did. So, even sooner, did I!
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