This story is written in response to this post.
“There Sherlock!” John yelled, “He must have ditched the jewels as soon as he heard the police siren.”
John Watson jumped out of the cab and ran down the muddy slope. The March rain began to patter against the concrete walkway as he slipped and slid toward the bag. John turned to see Sherlock calling to him, but he could hear nothing.
Droplets of rain flowed down the brown leather surface as he grasped the handle. John was debating whether to search for cover, when Sherlock tackled him pulling the bag from his hands and flinging it into the water.
John hit the ground just as the world exploded. Light blazed in the sky, and water flew in all directions as if he were in the center of a maelstrom. Bits of rock and earth rained down on his face and arms like hailstones.
John saw Sherlock standing over him. His arms were crossed over his face. His coat crusted with debris. Sherlock’s cheek began to well with blood.
” Are you OK?” John asked sitting up.
Sherlock covered his eyes. then lowered his hands and looked out over the water. ” Is it night, John?” he asked, his voice cracking uncharacteristically. “Tell me John. Tell me now!”
“No Sherlock.” It’s day. There is a little rain but…what’s wrong Sherlock?”
Sherlock turned toward John, his vacant eyes stared past him blankly. “John, I think that I am blind.”
After a week of practice, Sherlock no longer needed John’s help to get to and from the bathroom. He knew where everything was placed down to the fraction of an inch, so that so some mornings John almost forgot that Sherlock had lost his sight. That is until breakfast.
Mrs Hudson was so sympathetic about the accident that she had brought breakfast up to them everyday even though she was not their housekeeper. Today’s breakfast was ham and eggs with a side of toast. John poured the coffee into two mugs, and placed one before Sherlock.Sherlock sniffed and then sat perfectly still.
John wondered why Sherlock bothered to sit at the table. He didn’t eat. He just sat there until the spilled yolk congealed into a solid mass. ”Your breakfast is getting cold.” John said before putting the last ham piece into his mouth.
Sherlock turned his head slowly from side to side as if listening to something on the edge of hearing.
“Sherlock, do you want something? What are you trying to do?”
“I am trying to elicit an answer to a question.” Sherlock replied,” I wish to determine whether a loss of eyesight will lead to an enhancement of the other senses. I have been comparing the sound and smell of our current meals to previous ones in my memory, but I have not noticed any increased sensitivity. I must conclude that this is a myth.
“And as to your other question, Yes, there is something that I want.”