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I was not wholly surprised when Holmes announced that he wished to handcuff me, and naturally I gave my permission at once. From another man, I might have assumed this the prelude to some exciting bedroom interlude, but not Holmes. He had no interest in such matters.
He handcuffed me, and then leaving me in my armchair thus secured, he swept off across the sitting room. For a time, he darted around me with a look of great excitement. I merely waited, bemused yet curious.
“Ah! Well, well, this ought to be adequate for now.” Holmes dashed back to me and set down a basket full of household implements, from forks to needles to an old violin D-string. “Do you remain still, my good Watson, and I shall continue my research.”
“I shall not move without your permission,” I promised. “Might I ask what research you are doing?”
Holmes gave me a startled look, then chuckled. “I had thought it was obvious. You truly do not know?”
“You invariably chide me when I guess.”
“Tut! Tut! Guessing is unnecessary with so much data. You know my methods, Watson.”
I did know his methods, although initially I could not think of what a discarded D-string could have to do with handcuffing me in my armchair. However, in addition to knowing Holmes’ methods, I also knew his hobbies.
“I think you are attempting to refine your ability to escape handcuffs,” I said, “although I am uncertain why you have handcuffed me rather than yourself.”
“I shall handcuff myself later.” Holmes selected a needle. “I merely wish to narrow down possible options first.”
He tackled my handcuffs with enthusiasm, and I smiled as I watched. This was certainly an interesting way to spend the afternoon, and I was glad to be of help.