Sherlock Holmes and the Mummy's Curse by Stephanie Osborn Page A

apparatus.”
    “Misplaced?!” Watson exclaimed in surprise. “How in the name of all that is holy does a body misplace something as big as a bloody hospital tent? Oh, I beg your pardon, Miss Whitesell!” Watson added, flushing, suddenly remembering the young woman was still with them, and his language had not been the most delicate.
    “I assure you, Dr. Watson, I have no idea,” Whitesell responded, exasperated. “I am as annoyed about it as you are, I am sure. But the quartermaster is on it, and we hope to have matters resolved within the week.”
    “Well, that is something, I suppose,” Watson considered. “Do forgive my surprise, Professor—I simply had not expected that! What shall we do in the meanwhile?”
    “Ah, we had rather thought—hoped may be a better word—that you might treat any patients in the tent you will be sharing with Holmes, here—I presume that is a suitable living arrangement? Yes? Good—and then we would house any invalided patients in their own tents,” Whitesell suggested. “It could make for a deal of walking should you have to make rounds, however, and I’ve to understand from Holmes that your knee is not the best, after your Afghan tour…”
    “True,” Watson sighed. “It is certainly not an optimal arrangement.”
    “But if you need help, you have but to ask,” Whitesell went on considerately. “I will immediately have someone come by to help. In fact there are a couple of the local workers who normally staff the hospital, in addition to the regular doctor, and you may—and should—call upon them whenever you need help. I will instruct them to report to you after breakfast, lunch, and dinner until further notice, and to remain within reach at all times.”
    “I will introduce you to them to-morrow 25 morning,” Nichols-Woodall offered. “Willingham will likely be onto the quartermaster to see what has been located, and our foreman, Udail, will get the digging started for the day. So I can spare the time to help you get set up.”
    “As can I, at least for the unpacking of the equipment,” Holmes agreed.
    “Very well,” Watson decided. “I shall take you both up on it.”
    “I expect this arrangement to be needful only for a few days,” Whitesell vouched. “If we simply cannot find the blasted thing, I shall go into Luxor and see about acquiring another.”
    “What about the medical equipment?” Watson wondered, perturbed. “I did not come prepared to equip an entire surgical hospital with my own instruments; I don’t even have enough equipment of my own, back in London, to do so!”
    “No, no, everything is fine as far as that is concerned, Doctor,” Whitesell soothed. “While it was initially, ah, ‘walkabout,’ as one of my Australian colleagues is wont to phrase it, most of the equipment did show up only three days ago. But without the hospital tent, we have nowhere to put it.”
    “Ah, I see,” Watson said, nodding. “So the quartermaster has it, and I will have access to it in an emergency, but it has merely not been put out as yet.”
    “Precisely.”
    “Holmes, are you game for living in a makeshift infirmary for a few days, old boy?” Watson asked.
    “I shall make do just fine, my dear Watson. However, when I needs must begin unpacking my own scientific apparatuses, let alone spreading hieroglyphic text about the place, we are apt to become chock-full in short order.”
    “True,” Watson considered, while the archaeologists and geologist looked on. “Well, hopefully it will only be for a few days, and if all goes well, I may not even have any patients, or none of significance, at any rate. A splinter here, a blister there, perhaps. A dab of carbolic should do the trick without much trouble.”
    “Yes, I think we shall do fine, Watson.” Holmes turned to Whitesell. “It will do, well enough, sir. We thank you. Now, it has been a long, hard few days of travel; might I trouble you to have someone show us to our tent,