Guess Who

“On guard, you scoundrel, draw your sword and fight.”

What maniac was challenging another in the dead of night?

It was well past midnight when the voice rang out and I stood amazed as it continued to shout.

“What a vile coward you are to break in my chambers, the hour is late and my fire is nothing but embers.”

The reply was muffled, so I barely could hear, but I could tell it was spoken from a foreboding fear.

“What’s that? Speak up. What’s your need for me? Step into the light so your face I can to see.”

I peeped into the chamber of my friend for years and saw him standing in the shadows confronting his fears.

I said, “Put down your sword you’ve had a nightmare, nothing more. There is no one here that seeks to harm, only a dream your sleep has torn.”

With questioning eyes he looked at me as though to say, “Please set me free.”
I took his arm and helped him down, while seeing his face in a frightful frown.

I patted his shoulder to reassure he was safe with me, and from his ghoulish sleep, he’d been set free.

He thanked me for the glass of water, I handed him without barter. I felt his pain and understood that dreams feel real when we think they should.

I sat with him and we talked awhile until once again, he could easily smile. He laughed at himself for his vivid dream and the villain he fought with a sword that gleamed.

He asked me if he had dreamt before and awakened me with his words of lore? I admitted he had, but I chose to forget and let it go and not mention it.

“Why did you not tell me I often slept with nightmarish actions causing you regret?”

I replied with a smile and a flic of my wrist

“Because you’re my friend,” I said with a gest.

We continued to talk till the wee hours of morn, discussing stories and trials and memories forlorn. We talked of mysteries solved and people we’d met and murderous scoundrels we’d not captured yet.

He asked me my feelings about Scotland Yard and I truthfully told him I often grew tired; when they moved like turtles and snails with their actions, and doled out advise and their help was rationed.

He agreed with me on the points I made, then smiled and said, “You’ve learned the detective trade.”

“Thanks, Sherlock,” I said with heartfelt grin.

“You’re welcome, Watson, I’m glad you’re my friend.”

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