a non-poultice purpose, indeed
Holmes had a blank stare. To be lost in thought was hardly unfamiliar territory for the great detective, but the focus of his gaze was close, as if on something read. Perhaps he was on to a clue.
His head pivoted, bringing the invisible text with him, fixing it upon my forehead.
❝ Perhaps a clue to a clue, Watson. I don’t suppose you have a pinch of gun powder in your pocket?
In my tweed, possibly, but I could see only tea leaves in this waist coat.
❝ Jasmine?
Rubbing crumbs between forefinger and thumb I conclude Earl Grey. At once, he dismissed the invisible text and looked directly at me.
❝ In that case, Watson, we shall need rolling paper in a hurry. Call to the cabbie — stop at the Apothecary.
Did he mean to smoke?
❝ Don’t be absurd, Watson. I have a headache and seek a poultice for my temple. A nitrate would be nice; caffeine will suffice.
Or perhaps we stop in the park for a bit of willow bark. Hippocrates, would be pleased to serve salicylic tea. I could hardly resist and for this Holmes paid a sliver of smile, so I pressed my case to insist on the mix by Gerhardt, a French chemist in my correspondence.
❝ Quite. But the paper has another purpose. To roll a small explosive for a lock that won’t pick.
Breaking in? What of the Inspector? And how might the police take to this?
❝ Not well, I would expect. We shall be breaking into his Station.
My turn to stare blankly and allow the silence to speak on my behalf. As the carriage turned onto Islington, he whispered …
❝ It is a troublesome lock, I confess, and a grievance better forgiven than denied.
