A New Mystery at 221 Baker Street

Chapter 74: Alternatively

I'm Back!

Episode Transcript provided by Ariane DeVere/Callie Sullivan

***

John Watson strolled along the street in Central London. His last night was filled with dreams from the waterfront, causing him distress.

"Watson!" A voice called from behind him. "Watson!"

Watson turned around and smiled as the man approached him.

"Stamford. Remember? We were at Bart's together,"

"Yes, of course," Watson immediately shook Stamford's hand "Stamford,"

The two moved to a small bar. "I made it home," Watson said as he took a sip from his glass. "Many weren't so lucky,"

"So what now?"

"Hmm? I need a place to live. Somewhere decent and at an affordable price. It's not easy,"

Stamford chuckled. "You know, you're the second person to say that to me today,"

"Who was the first?"

Stamford led Watson to an underground mortuary.

"Good Lord!" Watson exclaimed as he saw a man violently flogged a corpse with a cane multiple times.

"It's an experiment," Stamford explained. "Beating corpses to establish how long after death bruising is still possible,"

"Is there a medical point to that?"

"Not sure," Stamford shrugged.

"Neither am I. So, where's this friend of yours, then?"

Stamford gave Watson a slight smile and turned towards the man. "Excuse me!"

The man hit the corpse harder and quicker before he finally turned around and took a quick look at Watson. "You've been in Afghanistan, I perceive,"

"Doctor Watson, Mr. Sherlock-"

Sherlock looked down at his watch and tossed his walking cane to John. who reached out and caught it without hesitation.

"-Excellent reflexes," Sherlock smiled, putting his watch back in his waistcoat. "You'll do,"

"I'm sorry?" John asked, confused at the situation he was now in.

"I have my eye on a suite of rooms near Regent's Park. Between us, we could afford them,"

"Rooms? Who said anything about rooms?"

"I did. I mentioned to Stamford this morning that I was in need of a fellow lodger. Now he returns after lunch in the company of a man of military aspect with a tan and a recent injury, both suggestive of the campaign in Afghanistan and an enforced departure from it." Sherlock took a quick breath. "The conclusion seemed inescapable," He gave John a quick smile, knowing that he was right in his deduction. "We'll finalise the details tomorrow evening," He walked over to the two men and took his cane back from Watson. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a hanging in Wandsworth and I'd hate them to start without me,"

"A hanging?" John asked, slightly disturbed.

Sherlock shrugged as he put on his coat. "I take a professional interest. I also play the violin and smoke a pipe. I presume that's not a problem?"

"Er, no, well..."

"And you're clearly acclimatised to never getting to the end of a sentence. We'll get along splendidly. Tomorrow evening, seven o'clock, then," He began to walk away before turning his head back to John. "Oh, and the name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street,"