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Holmes and Hopkins touched their glasses of wine together and beamed at each other.
“Isn’t it nice to finally have some time on our own?” said Hopkins.
Holmes nodded. “No chance of Lestrade and Watson accidentally locking themselves in my bedroom.” He winced. “No chance of us accidentally traumatising Mrs. Hudson.”
Holmes waved round at the modest little room they were sitting in.
“I don’t know why I didn’t think of this before. I have several of these small refuges in London where I change into my other identities.” He set down his glass and leant closer to Hopkins. “Completely private places where I’m not going to be disturbed by anyone I know on this very special day…”
“Well, that’s simply wonderful, Holmes…” Hopkins put down his own glass, and leant forwards as well.
“Miss Wainwright! Miss Wainwright! Do you have a man in there?”
Holmes and Hopkins pulled apart at the sudden banging on the door and Holmes shot up.
“No, of course not, Mrs. Endlebury!”
He gestured to a bemused Hopkins to stand up and began ushering him towards the window.
“My landlady here,” Holmes whispered. He sighed. “I knew we should have gone to Captain Basil’s place…”
“I don’t believe you! Open the door this instant!” called the unseen Mrs. Endlebury.
“I won’t be a moment!”
Holmes drew the curtains with a flourish and opened the window. He smiled apologetically to Hopkins.
“It’s not that far down, and there is a good, stout drainpipe.”
Hopkins stared down at the ground. And then stared at Holmes. “I see.” He gingerly clambered out.
“Miss Wainwright!”
“Coming!” called Holmes, reaching for his wig and lady’s nightgown. He turned back to Hopkins. “I’m so sorry about this. But before you go, my dearest Hopkins, I just wanted to say…”
“Yes?” said Hopkins, holding onto the sill with one hand and onto the drainpipe with the other.
Holmes smiled. “Happy birthday!”
And he abruptly pulled the curtains to.
Hopkins stared at them for a moment and then sighed.
He began climbing down.
“Thank you very much, Holmes. It’s been lovely.”