He did not seem himself that night. I saw the cocaine still lying on the shelf. It had not been touched. The fiddle lay on the floor as if he had tried to play it, but could not. He sat in the center of the room in his favorite high-backed chair. I had seen him solve many cases in that chair, and I assumed that he was considering an instance of some importance.
He raised his hand and gestured to me. It was a sign that bade me to be silent. I had seen it before. I ceased my movements and settled in a chair opposite him. My role during these times was to be still. He was pondering something deeply. Engrossed in thought, his face took on a new pallor. He was flush, and his massive brow furrowed more than usual.
I packed a pipe and smoked quietly, and thought of the items that I was to retrieve at tomorrow's market.: tobacco, chocolates, whet stone, black kerchief, and small scissors. He spoke suddenly.
"Have you ever had a nightmare Watson?"
I was shocked. It was not like him to discuss personal matters. I was, easily, his closest friend and confidant. However, he kept such things close. In fact, I was beginning to wonder if he had such musings at all. "Of Course." I replied, still believing this to be some prelude to a more grounded revelation.
"How did you know it was over?"
"I awoke in my chamber to find my wife next to me, the last time. Why do you ask? It was then that I noticed that he was looking directly at me. I thought that odd, considering the fact that Holmes always looks straight ahead, as if he were looking through the object of his attention. He only looks at one when he is coming to a profound conclusion, which he has to spell out for us slower chaps.
"I had one last night."
I was now certain that he was about to afford me an epiphany he had concerning a prior case. He was drawing to the point in which he would point a candle of deductive reasoning into a dark corner of a matter that had thus far eluded us. We would soon be chasing brigands through a dim alley way. I wished I had brought my service revolver. "How did you know it was over?" I asked, believing he would be impressed with my meager attempt at wit.
"I knew it was over when you entered the room."
We spent the rest of the evening smoking in silence. I thought again of the list of items I would retrieve tomorrow. My friend.....My friend thought of other matters besides the wall between the dreaming and waking.
Years later, when he was missing and presumed dead, I was glad of that rainy December evening. I have never thought much of myself in comparison to the company that I keep. However, since that evening I suspect that there must exist something very special within me. After all, I was the only friend of the greatest man in my era.