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The adventure of the speckled band

It was early in April in the year 1883 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter past seven. I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.

"Very sorry to wake you up, Watson," said he "but it's happening to everyone this morning. Mrs Hudson has been woken up, she came to me, and I to you."

"What is it, then - a fire?"