The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

ought to have acted as a voice of reason and attempted to dissuade him, showing him all the potentially terrible consequences of such an act. However, I was all in favour of the plan. That it was morally justifiable I never doubted – what could be more justifiable than to deprive a foul blackmailer of his livelihood? The only point upon which I was insistent and yet destined to be disappointed was my attempt to convince Holmes that we should both go. I reasoned with him, I swore that he would need my assistance; I threatened to take a cab straight to the nearest police station, but to no avail.
    "Watson, it is impossible. I can act quicker alone, and should I have any callers this evening then I will need you here in our sitting-room, to assure them that I am present at Baker Street but confined to my room with an incapacitating headache."
    "I do not like it," I persisted stubbornly, "you cannot know what may happen."
    "If you prefer, you may render me indisposed due to a cocaine-induced stupor," he retorted dryly, and to my dismay he would not hear another word on the subject.
    * * * *
    Later that evening, after Holmes had quit our rooms, I waited a quarter of an hour before following, having decided that I would willingly incur his anger by going against his wishes for a chance to retrieve that incriminating document. Additionally, a week of being paralysed into inactivity, like a rabbit who finds itself powerless to move as the weasel dances closer and closer, had run decidedly counter to my nature, and I relished the opportunity for action.
    After supper, I had retired to my room under the pretence of cataloguing old papers and had quickly fashioned a couple of masks out of black silk, which I now placed in my pocket as I left our rooms.
    I hailed a cab to take me to Church Row, which was as close to Appledore Towers as I dared without making my destination obvious. I walked briskly the rest of the way, for there was little shelter from the elements upon the heath, and soon found myself in the grounds of Milverton's house. Guessing that Holmes would be meeting his lady friend (for I could not bring myself to call her his fiancée) before making his house-breaking attempt, I made my way around to the kitchen door. Not wishing to intrude yet determined that Holmes should not enter without me, I concealed myself in the shadows of an outhouse, resolving to intercept him after his rendezvous. Sure enough, I soon saw a tall, quick figure dart to the side of the house, and I breathed silent thanks that I was in time.
    I now found myself in a rather awkward position. I certainly had no wish to eavesdrop on a private conversation (and the idea of watching Holmes play the role of lover to someone else certainly held no attraction for me), however I needed to guarantee that I joined Holmes before he entered the house. So it was that I watched him wait, resolving to turn away and plug my ears the instant Agatha arrived. There was a movement in the darkness nearby, and Holmes spoke softly.
    "John?"
    In some confusion, I was about to start forward when the vague shape in the darkness resolved itself into a tall, dark-haired man. I realised with a shock that it was the footman with whom Milverton had deterred me from wresting my letter from him by force upon the evening he had called at Baker Street, and his deep voice answered my friend.
    " Jonathon , if you please. Every other man in London is called John."
    I could hear the grin in Holmes's voice as he answered, "You will admit it is at least better than Agatha."
    "What!"
    "A private joke. I share rooms with another chap, and to explain my absences during the evenings of the past week I have told him I am engaged to a housemaid called Agatha."
    "A housemaid!"
    "Yes. I could hardly admit the truth and I thought it rather a good joke, given that I have yet to meet any specimen less well-suited to domesticity than yourself." I suddenly realised that they were rather close together, closer than I had ever seen Holmes stand to anyone other than myself.
    "Escott, I have every respect for the gentler sex, but you could hardly have lit upon any fictitious portrayal which would have pleased me less."
    "I know," Holmes's voice answered slowly, in a languid cadence I had never heard from him before, "and I had rather hoped you might permit me to make it up to you." His hand gripped Jonathon's sleeve, and the next instant they were kissing.
    From this point onward, I do not believe I