He ran into the room, his heart pounding, and his clothes soaking wet. Mrs. Hudson trailed in behind him, wringing her hands with anticipated concern.
"He just pushed passed me, Mister 'olmes!" she apologised. I nodded supportively and guided her elbow out of the room with whispered reassurances.
Our visitor immediately captured Holmes' attention. Remarkably for about a second more than his usual gaze would consume unannounced guests at 221b Baker Street.
"It's about m' small'oldin' Mr. 'olmes" he blurted out in what sounded like a Highlands accent. Possibly one of the smaller island settlements, I postulated. He did sound similar to one of the orderlies who'd served under me in my last engagement before being retired out of Service.
"Indeed," Holmes tutted, bracing his fingers together in thought. "Yet, the heavy boots you wear were recently changed, the watch pocket shows none of the bulge that a watch would have given it. In fact, my dear brother, this is one of the worst disguises you have ever used."
Mycroft, for such it was now I could see though the false beard, smiled. "Happy birthday, little brother. Three and a half seconds. A new record?"