A/N: for challenge 005 in watsons_woes LJ community. Warning: angst, character death.
I blindly stumbled into 221 B Baker Street…I did not even know how I found my way there; my feet seem to have carried me there by themselves, without my volition, along the well-worn path I have trod so often in the last several years…
I was drenched from the light but constant drizzle but could not bring myself to care enough to open my umbrella or even to draw up my collar… the weather quite matched my mood.
Holmes opened the door himself and let me in with a welcoming smile. "Come in, Watson, you look like you've been standing under a gutter-spout…" I was unable to respond. The smile faded from Holmes's face and his brows drew together in puzzlement. For once, he did not question me but instead helped me take off my soaked overcoat, led me up the stairs to the sitting room, drew me towards my usual armchair in front of the fire, and gently pushed me down into it. I was far too miserable to protest against his usual masterful ways.
He sat down in his chair opposite and regarded me with his usual sharp scrutiny.
"It isn't—Mrs. Watson—is it, my dear fellow?" his voice was unusually hesitant.
"Yes," was all I could manage to mutter at the moment. I saw his features twist in sympathy.
"I truly am very sorry, Watson…would it help you to talk about it?"
"No…not now…but thank you, anyway…"
I buried my face in my hands, striving to retain some vestiges of control. Suddenly, I felt a tentative hand on my shoulder. That simple gesture of friendship undid me; I could no longer restrain my tears. Holmes's hand never left my shoulder as I sobbed for what seemed like an interminably long time, but in reality, was probably no more than a few minutes.
"My apologies, Holmes," I finally managed to force the words past the lump in my throat. "I know you have no patience for emotional displays."
He looked visibly startled—at least as far as I could discern with my still-blurred vision.
"My dear Watson, I assure you, it is no hardship to make an exception in your case." His voice was unusually soft.
"Thank you," was all I could say as I was embarrassed to realize that tears threatened to blur my vision once again. I could not stop replaying the scene of earlier in my mind…
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Just that morning, I was so perfectly happy and content…we were perfectly happy and content…
Nothing foreboded disaster. I gave my wife my usual farewell kiss and departed for my practice, as was my wont. The day was progressing as usual, with all its quotidian joys and frustrations, until I received a hastily-scrawled note from Dr. Smith, who has been attending Mary since the beginning of her pregnancy. "Please come home immediately" was all the note said. Needless to say, I raced home as fast as my feet could carry me. In retrospect, I hoped my receptionist informed the patients who were still in the waiting room that they should come back tomorrow.
I could hardly bear to think about it even now, several hours later…but the baby came too early and was too small to survive…and Mary died, too, of bleeding from a ruptured artery which neither Dr. Smith nor I was able to control, frantically as we tried…All I could do at the end was stand there, holding her hand, and silently pray. It was selfish of me, I'm sure, but I begged whatever Higher Power there be to spare her life and take mine instead…
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Holmes was speaking; it took a few moments before his words registered. "…Please stay the night…it is too late in the day to be making arrangements, in any event, and I shall assist you with anything I can tomorrow morning." I was too exhausted by the day's events and my subsequent reaction to them to do anything but nod.