O'Dell had been tended to and was on his way home under Portney's care. I had washed Holmes wounds and bound them up gently. The detective was seated in his favourite chair, a large brandy in one hand, and his cherry wood in the other. He had watched Merewether help me undress, removing the canvas jacket she had made as a protection against darts. Gregson had remained behind to secure the scene, and report to his superiors. My wound had bled a little, though it was half healed now. She had redressed it and helped me don a clean shirt and my dressing gown.

"It was self defence, of course," she said, "Gregson won't arrest Mr. Brian, will he?"

"That is how I'll testify," I agreed, "If it ever goes to court."

"When did you make this?" Holmes asked, fingering the canvas undershirt.

"When the captain was in hospital. It was supposed to be for you," Merewether sighed, "But you never got to try it."

She had drawn the rug across her legs and was seated on our footstool, leaning against the arm of my chair.

"You gave me a fright, Watson," Holmes chuckled weakly, his face still unnaturally pale, "I thought that Porter had killed you with that dart."

"Gregson's plan came off well," he added in a different voice, "I must remember to congratulate him."

Merewether and I exchanged a smile and she sighed, leaning her head against my arm.

"I imagine he'll be here soon," I said in general and leaned back, the adrenaline that had sustained me now spent.

"How did Porter catch you?" Merewether asked.

"By a stupid accident," Holmes frowned, indicating the gash I had bound up, "The interior of the ruined church is extremely slippery. I fell and hit my head. When I came to myself Porter had tied me to the rafters."

"Dealings with Porter do tend to come about like that," I sighed, "Luck seems to follow him around in mundane matters and then desert him at a crucial moment."

"Fatally, this time," Merewether mused, and we shared a long look. Holmes nodded.

"I was never so glad to see you in my life as I was when you stepped through that door, Watson," he told me, "Porter had been teasing me for hours, firing his darts at my arms. At one stage he pinned me to the wall entirely, then he would pull the darts free. He told me as he left that he was going to kill you. I tried to escape then, but his knots were too efficient."

"Well, it's over now," I said thankfully. Gregson's footsteps sounded on the landing, and his greeting was suitably relieved.

"You won't prosecute Mr. Brian, will you?" Merewether asked immediately.

"No, Brian is safe for this crime," was Gregson's tired response, "But Matron, the man is a killer."

"I have no doubt," Merewether replied, "But this was a service to society, more than a murder, and self defence besides."

Gregson shook his head at her peculiar morals and abandoned the topic.

"Well, Gregson," Holmes said, "Tell me how you came to track Porter."

"The Doctor here, planned it," Gregson frowned, in surprise, gesturing to me, "Hasn't he told you?"

"We were waiting until you arrived; get the whole tale out at once," Merewether added, and Holmes shot a look at me.

"I never get your limits, Watson," he murmured, "Tell on, old chap."

I began to tell my tale, and outside, the sun broke through the clouds, sending watery rays through the window.

-end-

0o0o0o0

1: It is a pity that Watson was not more precise about the work Holmes had in hand - this is surely a reference to one of the lost monographs.

2: Unfortunately the official records are incomplete, and Major Watson's records have been lost.

3: The nature of Watson's wounds have been much debated, elsewhere. Suffice it to say that Watson's main complaint seems to be caused by a leg wound that he suffered during the war.

4: This is certainly a reference to the fight that Watson and Merewether were involved in to subdue Porter the first time.