I suppose I should be working on Deadly Doses but I was provided a muse that I simply couldn't get rid of until I wrote it out. A big thank you to Feeble Pen, who originally came up with this story but discontinued it for lack of inspiration. Thank you for allowing me to continue it. I hope you all enjoy!
It all started when Watson received a letter from an old friend in the country, inviting him to stay for a week. Watson had been pleased to hear from his friend and had informed me that he planned to accept the invitation. I must admit that I was not pleased.
"But why do you wish to go Watson? Are you not happy here?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Holmes." He had replied with a shake of the head. "I will only be gone for a week. I have not seen Mr. Allerton in many months and a trip to the country will be good for me."
"Just what the doctor ordered." I had scowled but I knew that the battle was lost. The next day I agreed to accompany him to the station and wave him off.
When I returned to the flat, I delved into my experiments, much as I did before Watson came to live with me. I gave Ms. Hudson the week off to keep her from cleaning up my hard work and because I found it easier to concentrate if not disturbed. I spent that lonely week alternating between plucking at my violin and creating chemical concoctions, the odor of which could have easily knocked a grown man off his feet. As the need for space and distraction grew, the state of the flat grew critical: furniture pushed against the walls so that I could set up tables for work, scribbled notes strewn in complete disorder, and chemical brews occupying every spare container I could find. The loneliness that I had once welcomed in my younger days now threatened to drive me over the edge.
It was late in the evening when Watson finally walked through the door, bright eyed and red cheeked. "Dear God Holmes!" He exclaimed. "I'm gone for one week and you turn this place upside down!" With a shake of his head, he hung his coat on a rack, the only thing still in its place in the room. He looked around in exasperation as though trying to decide whether to clean up the mess or let it go. Finally, he let out a defeated sigh of exhaustion. I smiled in my mind, my back to him, and resumed plucking my violin as if I hadn't heard him.
"Well, At least there's some tea to ease my nerves a little." I heard the clink of the teapot to a cup and frown in confusion. Tea? Ms. Hudson hasn't been by and I certainly didn't make any tea. I whirled around, dropping the instrument in my hands, but it is too late. He had already taken a hearty sip. I saw his face contort in disgust and I wracked my brains, trying to remember what was actually in the pot.
"What have you done with the te-" His expression is one of revulsion. Even as I watched, revulsion turned to confusion and pain. The blood drained from his face as he trailed off and keeled over, hitting his head on the table on the way down. I immediately rushed to his side, examining his unconscious body. He had sustained only a minor cut on his forehead but it had already started to form into a small bump that would undoubtedly get bigger and bruise.
I picked up the teacup and examined what remained of its contents. It looked enough like tea and perhaps it had been once. Then I remembered I had been working on a substance that would render a man unconscious. I had been in the process of heating it up when I heard a cab pull up and Watson bit good morrow to a man. Yes… That's when I put the teapot down and rushed to the opposite side of the room and picked up my violin and began to pluck absentmindedly, looking out the window.
I lifted him up and carried him to his room, feeling utterly helpless. I tucked his limp form into bed before hurrying downstairs to ring for Mrs. Hudson. After a quick explanation and a plea for her to return, I rang off and hurried back to Watson's side. Unable to do anything to help him, I sat on a chair beside his bed, waiting until he regained consciousness. I swallowed against the lump in my throat and watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Frustration curdled in my mind as I rued myself for my own stupidity. Of course, Watson would have wanted a cup of tea after his long journey. Of course, he would have reached for the tea…
I was beginning to drift off when I suddenly heard Watson shift in his bed. I opened my eyes to see Watson staring at me blankly. "Ah, old boy you're all right. How do you feel?" The words felt awkward in my mouth as I searched for something to say.
His brow furrowed in confusion.
"Yes, well. I'm terribly sorry about that whole tea mess." I shifted uncomfortably under his chilling stare. He had never looked at me that way and it caught me off guard. "Right." I looked down unable to make eye contact much longer. "Is there anything you need?"
Now, I have been a man that has been prepared for just about anything, expecting the unexpected and have never been so frightened and horrified as I had been when I heard Watson.
His words: "Who are you?"
