(A/N: I do not own Sherlock Holmes. One sided Sherlock/Watson)
And a barrel full of love couldn't fill the hole he left in my heart...An ocean of warmth and comfort couldn't revive the husk of a soul he left to me. I'm empty, drained and lost. He's one man, a single entity in the vast world, and yet, I know that he's the only one for me. It defies logic, boggles the mind and confounds the senses, but it is irrevocable truth. He is my anchor. He is my light in all forms of darkness. Without him I am simply a man, alone, wandering aimlessly.
There is much to be said on this subject, yet I cannot summon the thought to put it into words. He has left me and taken my mind with him. And if I walk by his new lodgings more often than normal, it is only casework...if I pause outside his door hesitatingly in my stroll it is only to consider a consultation. My thoughts are drawn so tightly around him that I feel as though I've been pulled off my axis. Being closer...it puts me closer to rights.
He wouldn't approve, and I see it in his eyes on the rare occasions that he visits, purely professionally of course. His gaze and capacity for analysis are far more astute than I give him credit for. So I wonder daily what he has deduced from our last meeting. Did he take in the bags and lines about my eyes, and if so did he attribute them to my recent bouts with sleeplessness and worry? Did he notice the state of my clothes and surmise that I'd worn the very same ones for at least three consecutive days? Did he catch the tremors in my hands, or the pallor of my face and realize that for him and his sake, I'd quit the loathsome drug he so detested my taking?
I can only hope.