For my friend, I'm Nova, on her birthday. I hope that you enjoy it, my dear, and that your day is a good one. Many happy returns of the day!

I know not what the time is. The infernal gang of opportunistic thieves, who were fortunate enough to cross my path while I was already done up, have taken my watch; they also have my old hat, which I daresay is all the more battered, now, my cane and the remaining coins that I had in my pocket. I am only glad that I had nothing of more value with me.

I shiver and hunch my shoulders against the biting wind and stinging drizzle. My hair is wet, the water dripping and running to my scalp; my head is freezing, due to the icy wind and rain, and my ears are stinging. My steps are growing increasingly slow, the injury to my side steadily the more painful, causing me to limp and occasionally sway and stagger. It is no good - I was bone weary before I was attacked and attempted to defend myself; I can walk no further tonight.

"Holmes!"

I raise my head with a weary groan to find Watson crouching before me. For how long have I been sleeping in the street? I cannot even recall sitting down!

"Holmes, are you all right?"

I nod and attempt to clear my throat. "It is good to see you."

He grimaces. "I only wish that I had found you sooner - I have no doubt that you would have located me in a heartbeat."

"How did you find me?" I ask of him, curious.

"Never mind that, just now," says he, kindly. "I want to get you home before you catch your death of cold. You do not look well and you sound as if you have a catarrh of the throat. Have some brandy from my hip flask. Can you walk?"

I am all right - merely weary and cold - and I most likely sound hoarse because one of the ruffians decided to try to strangle me, not due to the onset of illness. But I permit my friend to escort me, his arm firmly about me, to the cab that he has left waiting never-the-less. I know that Watson will calm himself all the sooner if I do not argue with him - he shall soon see for himself that there is nothing wrong, aside from a slight injury and chilling.

"Baker Street, please," the doctor announces, as he sets me on the seat of the cab, swathing me in the provided rugs, and takes to my side. He then slips his arm about me before signalling to the driver to be off.

"I am all right," I insist quietly. "Though I am truly grateful to you for finding me."

He smiles. "I am glad that I was able to locate you - you looked dreadful, when I came upon you. Had I taken very much longer, you might have contracted pneumonia."

I stifle a cough and again attempt to clear my throat. "Are you going to explain how you found me? Never mind pneumonia - I am much more likely to die of curiosity and impatience."

"Now? You look all but spent!"

Ever the doctor. "You have done well and I would like to hear all."

His face lights up at the praise, but his answer is humble. "It was not so very difficult, having learnt a thing or two from you," says he. "I am sure that you would have been very much faster."

I shrug my shoulders. There was a time when Watson would never have known where to start and I am impressed.

"Never mind how quickly you think I could do it! I very much doubt that even Lestrade could have located me (unless by some fluke), as you have this night - and he is the very best of the Yarders."

"Very well, I shall try to tell you what I did..." he narrows his eyes. "To begin with, I thought that you had been waylaid, somehow, and thus I was not overly concerned when you were later than you said that you would be.

"But then, when I found myself to have dozed off, over a book, with still not a sign of you, I began to feel some apprehension. I then started to think about what you would do, if I was so late..."

I knew that he had clearly become concerned when I had failed to return to Baker Street in the early evening, as I had said that I would, and I would assume that it was that which led to his search for me. How he came to locate me is what I truly wish to know.

"I know that you have been to Canary Wharf every evening since you took this case," says he. "I remembered your description of the soil, in the early days of our acquaintance, and, when I noticed splash marks on the cuffs of your trousers, to correspond with that soil type, I knew from that where you had been and that you would more than likely have started here again tonight."

I congratulate him - I am gratified that he remembered my little demonstration. "You have a very good memory."

His face flushes and he fidgets slightly. "Actually, I recalled rereading about it in my journal, while you were... while I was missing you."

Ah. I daresay that he is referring to the grief that was unfairly forced upon him, following my final confrontation with Moriarty.

"Never-the-less, you did remarkably well. However, I was not located at Canary Wharf; what happened next?"

"I thought that you might have made your way towards the nearest cab stand, having finished there," he replies slowly. "So I asked my driver to wait with the cab and set off in that direction - I had hoped that your driver might have remembered you. I am sure that you can imagine my surprise - and fury - when I noticed a gang of roughs - one of them sporting your battered old felt hat and carrying your stick."

I feel the blood turn cold within my veins. I know only too well that an angry Watson's first thought would be to attack.

"Oh, Holmes! Please do not look at me like that - I am a soldier and you have certainly taught me a thing or two, yourself."

I nod - he is right - but I find it somewhat difficult to calm myself and slow my suddenly racing heart. "Clearly, they did you no lasting damage."

He laughs. "Of course not - I was angry - indignant - and anxious to find you. Even the three of them together were not a match for me."

"Three?" I repeat. "There were four of them, when they caught me off guard."

"Only three of them put up a fight," he clarifies with a grin. "You see, I was still thinking about what you would probably do and I recalled something that you said about over-confidence and the element of surprise. So, I exaggerated my limp and slowed my pace, with my head bowed - they took me to be an easy target and one of them attacked me on his own. I am not one to boast, Holmes, but I can assure you that he was unconscious before he knew what was happening."

Again I am impressed! This is a very different Watson, sitting beside me.

"The remaining three came at me at once, but I had little difficulty with them," says he. "The one in the your homburg took a bullet to the leg and then the remaining two bolted the moment that the gun went off and he fell."

I suspect that that is not the whole truth and that he is doing his utmost to spare me further concern, but I shall ask him again later. "And then...?"

"I forced him to show me where he had attacked and left you," says he with a smirk. "I knew that he had to be the leader - he was the one wearing your homburg as a trophy - so I had already thought that the others would panic and abandon him, when they saw that I had the upper hand. Oh! And I took back your hat, cane and watch, plus the money that he was carrying - it is all under the seat. I have not counted the coins."

Truly, he has done remarkably well. I was going to take back my missing articles tomorrow, once I was fresh, but he has saved me the trouble.

"You had indeed left traces," the doctor continues. "The struggle, if you recollect, took place to the rear of a brewery and you had stepped or fallen in some malt. Even with the rain, your shoes left dark, sticky traces that I could follow quite easily."

If he could also see that I had occasionally fallen or knocked items that I had happened upon over in my clumsiness, he has the tact to refrain from saying as much. I would rather not draw his attention to such trifles and so I also refrain from mentioning it.

"You amaze me, old fellow," is all that I do say.

He smiles warmly. "Here is Baker Street," says he. "I should like to ensure that your injuries are not serious and then you really must rest. You do not look at all well."

I very much doubt that anyone would, following so long a case - to say nothing of all that has transpired this night.

"If you mean to keep me in, tomorrow, perhaps you could do something for me. I have located the warehouse from which our smugglers are working; would you be so good as to inform Lestrade?"

He agrees to see that it is done at once.

"Of course, he is much more likely to catch them all if I am at hand..."

Watson stops the driver outside of our door. "We shall see how you are," says he, firmly, as he first gathers my retrieved items and then assists me in stepping down onto the damp pavement, apologising needlessly when he returns the rugs to the seat of the cab (because he is able to see that I am endeavouring to keep myself from shivering, most likely) before paying the driver.

I trust that it will not take me too long to convince him that I truly am quite all right - I already feel much improved, now that I am home. A warm bath, a few hours of sleep and I shall be as good as new again. Besides, if I truly am going to catch something, I can certainly put it off for a day or two (it would not be the first time that I have done so) and I have rather more important matters to concern myself with.