"It was nothing." I stared at the man before me.

Nothing? I pulled off my coat and hung it and my hat. Then I turned back to the Doctor.

Nothing?

Not only had he managed to pull the man from the brink of death, but he had also at the same time managed to get an extremely detailed description not only of what had happened, but of the man who had tried to murder him.

We had the murderer in jail tonight because of that, and the Doctor thought of it as nothing.

"Do you think there's any dinner left?" He asked sheepishly.

I blinked. Then I answered. "My wife is used to me keeping odd hours." I confessed. "There will still be food."

"Good." The Doctor said. "I'm starving."

He had an appetite tonight. That was good. We made it to the kitchen, after stopping by the washroom, of course.

He dug into his meal eagerly, his mind still on what had happened earlier that night. I was content to eat in silence, and was pleased that the Doctor seemed distracted from his own problems as he mulled over what I had told him of the case. I could almost see him thinking, trying to put everything together.

I was surprised when he did, and offered a summary that made more sense than anything any of us at the Yard had been able to come up with.

"You're gaping." The Doctor informed me.

"I – Can you write that down? You may have it right, there." I pulled myself together and went back to my meal.

I stopped to look back up at the man as he chuckled.

Then I froze.

I thought it through, the risks, the benefits, the drawbacks, the possibility of it being acceptable, the possibility of it working.

Doctor Watson waited patiently for me to finish thinking.

I did, and came to a conclusion.

We could use another Police Surgeon anyway.


Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes does not belong to me.