Search for the Sunlight

The following morning, Basil struggled from his sack. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and stretched his stiff limbs until they cracked. It was as much as he could do to motivate himself. The high levels of adrenalin that had fuelled him during the Peckwood battle had waned now and, weak through a prolonged lack of nourishment, he had reverted back to his gloomy state of lethargy. Were it not for a compelling desire to find both the missing sunlight and his absent grandfather, he could easily have entered into a state of perpetual hibernation, never to wake again.

Suddenly, Harry stepped out from behind a withered shrub. His unexpected appearance gave Basil a fright.

“Morning, Baz,” he said, passing a large mug of ‘Blue Tip’- the reheated leftovers from the night before - to his friend. Basil took the mug and sipped the hot tea. He shivered as the powerful energy flowed through his capillaries and warmed him inside.

“Do you know what?” he said, wrapping his arm fondly around Harry’s shoulders. “When I awoke this morning, I felt like death. Then, from out of nowhere you hand me a mug of tea, the likes of which I have never tasted better, and almost instantly I feel well again. You never cease to amaze me old friend. Thank you,” he said, shaking his head in wonderment. “Thank you,” he repeated.

“No need,” Harry replied. “It’s simply a matter of knowing your tea and your friends,” he answered modestly.

For several silent minutes, the two chums sat side by side, staring trancelike at the hypnotic glow of the fire. Basil was the first to speak…

“I’m concerned about Sherlock,” he said solemnly. “We may have to go on without him.”

Harry turned his attention away from the fire and looked at his friend.

“We can’t do that!” He exclaimed, shaking his head in defence of the injured officer’s fragile condition. “He wouldn’t last the night out here on his own.” The conversation fell silent again…

“Perhaps, though, if you and I were to go on ahead, Herbert could stay behind and look after him until we get back?” Harry suggested.

“Mmm.” Basil thought for a moment. “It might be better if you were to stay behind,” he replied. “It’s just that, well, you’re better with the brewing and things and Sherlock will need nourishment on a regular basis. What do you think?”

Harry took a long slow sip of his tea, allowing himself time to consider his options. He knew that the journey ahead would be perilous and, that being the case, he’d much rather it was he who faced any dangers and not his brother. But Basil did have a point.

Eventually, having given the matter careful thought, he concluded that Basil was right. In view of his skills as a brew master, it would indeed make more sense for him to stay behind and that was that. There would be no further debate on the issue. Now

it was time to wake the others and inform them of the plan…

Basil checked his wood watch. To his astonishment, it had kept good time throughout the battle. According to the little beetle, it was ten seventeen precisely and, with everything packed, the pair said their goodbyes and set off into the cold grey desert.