Watson shuddered as a drop of rain fell down his back. Holmes did not seem to be feeling the cold, wending his way through the dark trees. The doctor yawned nervously.

"Tired, Watson?"

"It's nearing one o' clock at night. Hadn't we better -"

"Certainly not. I saw our man there up ahead. You have your revolver?"

Watson's breath was coming very fast now. White faced, he nodded.

Holmes turned to his companion, a small smile twitching at his mouth. Wordlessly, he held out one lean hand.

Watson took it, and like two small boys, they proceeded into the night.