The Dreadful Business of the Abernetty Family

Chapter One

It was a pleasant summer day in London when Dr Watson stood at the window enjoying a pleasant breeze through the flat he shared with the famed consulting detective Sherlock Holmes. It was by chance, then, that he saw the great detective in conversation with a man on Baker Street below, having some sort of discussion as the cabs and horses flowed past.

Watson could almost hear the conversation, watching the two men's behavior, although he was too far away to literally listen in over the sounds of the traffic below. Sherlock Holmes spoke calmly, with a small smile that Watson knew to be one of triumphant pride from over four years' association and adventures with the man.

Well he knew the sequence that followed. Sherlock had just demonstrated a small portion of his keen deductive and observational skills, and the man responds with astonishment. Dr Watson could guess how it had gone.

"I see that you are a left-handed sailor on leave with a keen eye for birds and a sudden increase in wealth," Sherlock seemed to be saying, "But beyond that I know nothing about you."

"How can you possibly know that?" the man pulled back in surprise, then leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Watson could almost her him exclaim "Did so-and-so visit you first?"

"I know of no so-and-so," Sherlock would reply.

Watson then imagined the detective across the street pointing out what he could see and deduce from his vantage point from the window. A tattoo of an anchor and sunburnt face spoke of a naval engagement. The man's watch and wallet on the left side suggested his handedness, and the book on birds poking out of his pocket suggested his hobby. As for the wealth, Watson admired the fine new coat and shoes the man was wearing, obviously tailored and recently purchased along with the gold-topped cane.

The stages of bewilderment, understanding, and disregard showed on the man's face, stages Watson himself had often experienced as Sherlock explained the simple and logical process by which he'd understood all that he'd noted. As Holmes had said on several occasions, once a hearer understood how it was done, it became no longer astounding, but pedestrian, even elementary. At times, almost a contempt developed in his targets for being so tricked with such an obvious, simple device, yet Holmes could not seem to resist.

They crossed the street, and Watson quickly took to a chair by the window, lest he seem to have been snooping. Opening the times, he began to read as he waited for the pair to ascend the steps to 221b. The Times was full of the usual news, but Watson by habit in his adventures alongside Holmes turned to the crime news to see if any new and curious developments could be discovered. It was longer than he expected when the steps outside the apartment door announced the arrival of his friend and what he guessed was their newest client.

Sherlock swept into the room with more than his usual languid pace, peeling off his overcoat and hat and tossing them aside on the floor near the hat rack. Watson sighed, but was determined not to act as maid again to put the clothes where they belonged. If Sherlock wished to wear rumpled and wrinkled clothing, that was his choice. He had long become accustomed to his brilliant friend's often eccentric appearance and behavior.  Abernetty was the opposite, very cautiously  hanging the coat and hat, smoothing it and brushing off some dust.

"Colin Abernetty, please meet my friend and confidante Dr Watson" Sherlock said, as he busied himself with packing a pipe. Watson stood and shook the hand of their new client.

"Oh yes sir, I have read many of your stories," Mr Abernetty said with affection. Sherlock snorted but the man seemed not to hear. "On the Marie Rose we share the magazines your tales are published in with relish."

Watson smiled a secret, proud smile, glad to have an admirer of his work as well as a satisfied sense of having guessed the man's profession. It wasn't so difficult, after all.