Holmes opened his mail a few days following the case of the Giant Rat of Sumatra, for which the world is still not prepared. From an envelope bearing his clients' address, Holmes withdrew a cheque and then casually tossed the letter at Watson. "Read," he instructed, while getting up from the settee and going to his desk.

Watson looked over the letter with curiosity, one sentence particularly catching his eye: "On the question of the medical services fee, Mr. Holmes, we certainly do not object to remunerating for this expense, and we hope that you will convey our deep appreciation and gratitude to Dr. Watson for the significant assistance that he rendered to us and to all involved." Watson wrinkled his brow, "Holmes, what is this about?"

Holmes returned with a document and his cheque-book in hand. "A copy of the bill I sent to them," Holmes explained, giving the sheet to Watson. He turned and began to write out a cheque of his own.

Watson looked at the list of itemised expenses from their case, and soon spotted one expense that Holmes had asterisked. "Medical services rendered by Dr. Watson" was followed by a fee, and Holmes had inscribed below both, "Please inform me if you have any objection to paying for this expense." Watson's eyes widened even more. "Holmes, but I never asked--"

"Tut, tut." Holmes tore a cheque from his book and handed it to Watson. "Your portion of our bill, Watson."

"Our bill!" "Watson, my dear fellow, how many people did you have to treat during this taxing affair? How many bites, nervous breakdowns, and disease scares, not to mention faintings, did you have to attend to? Did you think that I expected you to absorb all the expenses for medication, supplies, and so forth yourself? It is impractical. Illogical."

"Still, Holmes, to have presumed this way--"

"Watson, in my opinion, no client in his right mind ought to be ungrateful for your assistance in his time of need. If in any case a client is not in a position to defray your expenses, I shall do so myself."

"Holmes, this is really too much. I cannot accept money from a friend--" He tried to hand the cheque back to Holmes.

"Watson, for heaven's sake, we are partners are we not?" That remark silenced Watson and left a dumbfounded look upon his face. Holmes shrugged. "Consider, after all, what you would be doing if you were not always following me upon investigations: you would be applying your skills in a more professional setting, a practice or a hospital, and earning an income. Since you forgo this work to do me the courtesy of participating in these affairs with me as my assistant, my colleague, you should be justly compensated. These are your earnings in our humble little firm."

Watson raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware that we had a 'firm'."

Holmes lit his pipe thoughtfully. "Neither was I," he shook out his match and bit into his pipe stem, "until it seemed to spring up around you. I went from being an independent consultant paying out negligible fees to my Irregulars and other occasional informants, to being part of a going concern with a doctor, accomplice, and publicist rolled into one indispensable individual."

Watson eyed Holmes with wonder, then glanced at the cheque in his hand again.

"By the way," Holmes continued, "I shall not be paying you for your role as publicist. I do draw my limits somewhere."

A smile of quiet amusement crossed Watson's face. He rose and fetched his own cheque-book, almost beaming with pride as he slipped Holmes's cheque inside. He also folded up the copy of the bill carefully, keeping it as a souvenir.

"We should both go to the bank today," Holmes commented.

Watson nodded and chuckled to himself. He wondered if Holmes would open a joint banking account for 'company expenses' and not tell Watson either until he was asked to withdraw from it. Watson smilingly wrote upon the back of the folded sheet 'our bill.'

Holmes spoke from the settee. "Do you find my calculation of your wages flawed or amusingly amiss?"

"No, Holmes," he quickly assured, returning to his chair. "No, you are quite fair. As fair as you are to the Irregulars. I should have expected myself that you would do something like this, but that you--" Watson cleared his throat, "Forgive me. You are not thoughtless by any means, Holmes, but usually you seem rather unconcerned about my affairs--which is quite understandable, considering that you are a busy indiv--"

Waving Watson's apologies away, Holmes interjected in a perfect deadpan, "I believe the term is 'callous bastard', Watson. Or, among the more earthy classes, 'unfeeling sod'."

Watson laughed outright, and suddenly felt very happy to be a part of the Sherlock Holmes consulting detective agency.