Title: The Old Soldier
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: PG
Length: 1,014
Summary: An old soldier and his wife have been taken advantage of, but Holmes is out to right the wrong. 

Late one afternoon Holmes said he was going out.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” I asked.

“If you are willing,” he replied.  “I shall be pleased to have your presence with me.  Indeed, a doctor may well prove of assistance in this matter.”

I put on my hat and coat and followed Holmes down the stairs and into the street, where he hailed a cab.  We were conveyed to one of the thoroughfares which run across the East End, stopping at a point Holmes indicated.  From there he led me unerringly through a maze of the small alleys, although I doubted that he had ever been there before.

We stopped outside a dwelling, where Holmes knocked on the door.  A woman, worn beyond her years, opened it.  She looked frightened when she saw us.

“Please don’t be alarmed,” Holmes said.  “My name is Sherlock Holmes, and my companion is Dr John Watson.”

“No sir, no doctors,” she said in alarm.

“We’ve been sent by Billy Wiggins,” Holmes continued.  “May we come in?”

She stood back and we entered the small property.  I had expected she would show us into the front room, but instead she took us into the room at the back, which seemed to function as both kitchen and daily living room.

“Do you mind sitting here?” she asked, indicating two rickety kitchen chairs.

“Not at all,” Holmes replied taking a seat.  I took the other, and she remained standing, there being no other chair.

“Tell me about your husband,” Holmes said gently.

She looked dubiously at both of us.

“I promise you, nothing you tell us will go beyond these walls,” Holmes said.

“He fought in them Afghan wars.  He was wounded, but he was one of the lucky ones; if that makes sense.”

“I was there, myself,” I said.

At these words she seemed to gain a bit more confidence.  “He was sent home, with a bit of a pension, and he could work enough to provide for a home, and together with what I could bring in we were able to bring up a family.  Only these past few years, with him getting older, his injuries have slowed him down and he’s no longer been able to bring in much money.  Well, I’ve done my bit, and the boys and Minnie helped too, but they’ve got their own families now, so it was getting more difficult.”

Holmes and I nodded, but said nothing, not wishing to interrupt her flow of words.

“And then this gentleman came and said he knew a doctor who could help Harry and offered us money.  Quite a lot of money.  And we thought about it, and although it seemed a bit odd it didn’t feel like we had anything to lose.  After all, we knew it wouldn’t be long before Harry couldn’t work at all, and the money would help so much.  So we said yes.”

She began to cry, so I stood up and insisted she take my chair.

“There was only one condition, we couldn’t use the money to see another doctor either while Harry was receiving his treatment or afterwards.  That didn’t matter to us, we couldn’t afford a doctor anyway, begging your pardon, sir.”

“That’s all right, I quite understand,” I said.

“He had the treatment and ever since then he’s been hardly able to leave his bed.  He’s worse than what he was before.  I’m spending all the money on drugs to relieve the pain.  If I’d known, I’d never have let him do it.  Better to be poorer and with some health, than richer and with none.”

“May I see him?” I asked.  “No-one need know about my visit.”

She nodded, unable to speak any more.

I had deduced the room at the front was being used for Harry.  I went in, and found the old soldier lying on the bed.  I spoke to him quietly and reassured him that there would be no reprisals on his wife if someone found I had visited.  Even without conducting a proper examination my initial observations gave me sufficient clues as to what ailed him.  I had seen too many such as this on the battlefields of Afghanistan: infected wounds poorly dressed.  I had no doubt his wife had done all she could for him, but the general conditions they were forced to live in gave no opportunity for them to heal.  I feared he had not long to live.

At that moment, Holmes entered the room, and said quietly, “We are being watched.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Harry said, through cracked lips.  “Take care of Alice.”

“We will do,” Holmes said.  “I promise.”  He glanced over to me and moved his head slightly to indicate Harry.

I shook my own head and pointed first at one finger and then at two, conveying my belief he had at most two days to live.  He nodded and disappeared out of the room.  Shortly afterwards I heard a piercing whistle from the back of the building.

I was not overly surprised when a little while later a hospital waggon arrived outside the door and two burly men came in carrying a stretcher.  By then Alice was dressed in a shabby hat and coat and holding a small bag.

The men lifted Harry onto the stretcher, and he said, “Goodbye, my love.”

“She’ll be safe,” Holmes said.  “Don’t worry.”

The men were still loading Harry onto the waggon, when Holmes, Alice and I left the building, and walked briskly to where a cab was already waiting.  We climbed inside to be greeted by Inspector Lestrade who nodded to us, before telling the driver to move off.

We had not gone far when our cab pulled up behind another cab.  Lestrade opened the cab door, a constable leaned in and helped Alice out, before escorting her to the cab in front.  We waited while the two of them got in and drove off, before continuing our own journey back to Baker Street.

“I’m taking no chances,” Holmes said, with a face like flint.