Lost And Found, a sherlock holmes fanfic

Lost And Found

One love one blood
One life you've got to do what you should
One life with each other
Sisters, brothers

One love but we're not the same
We got to carry each other Carry each other
One One One One One...

Watson

Dr John Watson smiled as he fondly recalled Holmes saying to him "Come Watson! The Game's Afoot". How many times had Holmes said that to him shaking him awake as he slept in bed asleep in the arms of Morpheus. Tonight though I am not asleep thought Watson as he lay awake in his bed. Watson heard his clock on the mantelpiece ticking coldly like a mechanical heart forever immortal. Is there such a thing as forever thought Watson but his only answer was the silence of the night and his laboured breathing. His mind turned back to the events that had so occupied his mind of late. It had started this very same time that morning almost twenty years ago….

Watson rose from his bed and walked to his sink and filled the basin with water. The sound of water gushing into the basin engulfed his mind as he remembered the thunderous Falls echoing round the valley as he stared into the abyss calling for his friend, no not my friend thought Watson, my brother. How I miss him so. Watson held onto the basin as the pain of the memories stabbed his heart and he clutched his chest fighting the pain that ate at his soul. I feel so empty, I cannot go on but I must thought Watson as he dressed and went down to his consulting room. Maybe work will help me said Watson as he sat down at his desk and began to work his way through the medical paperwork. But he could not think. He had an appointment at 9.30 at the magistrates No1 Criminal court that morning. Nasty business that shooting. He remembered Lestrade's words the previous day.

"A Case Mr Sherlock Holmes would have found interesting"

Watson shook his head bitterly as he threw his stethoscope into his medical bag and snapped the case shut. He closed his eyes trying to shut out the painful memories and felt another wave of pain hit him as he left his house and found himself walking down Baker Street and looking up at his old lodgings. Watson smiled but it was not one of joy, he felt bitterness in his mouth and his chest tightened once more. He knew what he had to do. There was still time.

"Cab!" cried Watson as he raised his hand. The cab stopped and Watson instructed the driver to take him to St John's Church in Hyde Park. On arrival Watson instructed the cabbie to wait for him. Watson got out of the cab and entered the church. He slowly walked down the aisle remembering

the time he had walked down the aisle with Mary. Mary Watson was also taken from me by a jealous enemy. Death had taken her. That's one client Holmes can never defeat thought Watson bitterly as he reached his destination reached his destination and felt the heat of the lit candles.

Watson bent down to pick up an unused candle and felt a twinge in his knee as he did so. He leant heavily on his cane as he rose once more. Watson placed the candle wick next to another and watched as the wick lit and Watson placed it in the candle holder. He stood watching as the candle flame flickered dancing and quivering. Just as Holmes once did as he recalled the case of The Dancing Men. Holmes had been so alive then, so vibrant and full of energy. Watson felt tears sting his eyes and unable to contain his emotions anymore he buried his face in his hands and dropped to the floor, his body now thinner through grief and pain shook violently as he cried.

Eventually Watson rose unsteadily and walked out of the church and felt the cold chilling blast of morning air hit him. Turning up the collars on his coat, Watson climbed back into the cab and headed to the courts. He did not see the white haired elderly gentleman who was bent double, sitting in one of the church pews. Nor did he see the grey eyes become clouded and concerned as he watched a troubled soul trying to release his pain.

Holmes

He looks frail and tired thought Holmes as he watched Watson from the camouflage of his disguise.Holmes had been overjoyed to be back in London after so long away. His first thought was for Watson and he had quickly established that Watson had set up practice in Kensington. Holmes had gone straight there. It was too soon yet to reveal himself to his dear friend, but being close to him was of greater comfort than he had known in the last three years. It was therefore of great shock to him to see Watson look so worn and haggard. Mycroft had informed him of Mary Watson's death but he had not prepared himself to see Watson looking so empty and cold thought Holmes. He had followed Watson as he walked down Baker Street and smiled as the memories of happy times flooded back. Realising Watson had ordered a cab; Holmes did the same, following behind Watson and was surprised to find Watson stopping outside a church of all places. He waited whilst Watson went in and then quietly followed unseen and sat quietly at the back in on of the pews and watched his Boswell walk slowly and stiffly towards the row of candles. Holmes hands clenched tightly as he watched Watson almost stumble as he bent down to pick up a candle. Oh my dear Watson, I am so sorry I cannot be there to catch you fall. Holmes felt the colour drain from his face as he then witnessed his friend break down in tears after lighting his candle. Moran would pay for the pain he has caused my dear Watson thought Holmes angrily as he watched helplessly as Watson cried. I will relight your flame Watson; I will fill that empty house of yours once more. I will not let you be so hurt ever again. Holmes felt a lump rise in his own throat. He would not have to wait much longer to be reunited with his friend.

Watson

"Murder by person or persons unknown" said Lestrade with a confident voice.

Lestrade's words still echoed in Watson's mind not noticing where he was going and bumped into an elderly gentleman. Watson saw the books tumble and he sighed. He bent down to pick them up and almost cried out in pain as his knee once more caused him pain. He apologised to the elderly

gentleman who seemed to dismiss his apology by rudely hitting him. Had it been any other time Watson would have protested, but not anymore. Watson no longer cared how the world treated him.

Arriving back at his Kensington practice, Watson buried himself in his medical paperwork once more, trying to shut out the painful memories once more and realised he was fooling no one but himself. There was a knock on the door and his maid walked in announcing the unexpected arrival of a visitor. As his visitor walked into his room, Watson clenched his jaw. He did not want anyone visiting him right now; he wanted to be alone and yet not alone thought Watson as he began to remonstrate with this elderly gentleman. Watson was not really listening to the conversation, he was tired and he wanted to be left alone. He found himself at his bookcase, after being asked to see if he had space for some more books. Watson eyed his past journals His fingers passed softly over the books. He drew in a breath sharply, He did not want to remember the past, it was too painful. H e resolved to tell the elderly gentleman to leave him in peace and as he turned he saw the face he had least expected to see again. Sherlock Holmes. Watson felt his throat constricting. Gasping for air he found his legs give way and then the light of day gave way to nothingness.

Holmes

Holmes stretched out is arms to embrace his friend ready to heal the pain he has caused his Boswell. He never expected Watson's reaction as he fell to the floor. What kind of detective am I if I cannot anticipate the reaction from so close a friend? Holmes ran to where Watson fell, only just reaching him in time before he fell to the floor, but not quite just in time to prevent Watson from hitting his head against the bookcase. . This time I am here to break your fall thought Holmes as he held Watson in his arms, holding Watson tightly against him not wanting to let him go before he took grip of his emotions and gently laid Watson in his chair. He remembered the brandy flask, and with shaking hands gently brought Watson forward and the flask up to his lips. Holmes instinctively brushed his hand against Watson's head and face, worried that the shock might have triggered some adverse reaction in him. As if he had not suffered enough as Holmes gently pushed back Watson into his chair. I owe him so much, how can I begin to explain?

Watson

Slowly the fog lifted and I saw Sherlock Holmes before me. I felt my throat constrict once more but recovered quickly enough to say something but I don't remember what, all I do remember is such a feeling of joy and gripping Holmes arms. I did not want this dream to end. Yet it was no dream! No more would I wake drenched in my own sweat in bed, he was here, he had cheated that immortal client. But I had to be sure. I gripped Holmes by the shoulder or was it his arms? I really did not care, for if I was going to go mad, it may as be as well in the company of Holmes. But Holmes felt solid enough and I laughed out of joy. I wanted to hug him. Oh how I missed him and I reached out once more to make sure I was not dreaming.

The game was afoot once more.

The Next Day (Watson)

Eyeing the Fez hat mischievously I could not escape the complete joy I felt at seeing Holmes in front of me in Baker Street. I grabbed it with both hands and placed it on my head, offering Holmes theories and delighted in seeing him quivering with silent laughter. I sat himself down before I fell down, I had so much longed for a day like this. If this be madness then I welcome it with open arms. Watson could not imagine a life without his closest friend, and he was no longer ashamed to say brother. I sat down in front of him and smiled and remembered a passage I recently read that had struck a chord which had reminded me of Holmes.

"If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together... there is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is, even if we're apart... I'll always be with you."

I laughed again and smiled. Holmes had defeated the Immortal Client and I danced with him. For he first in three years I felt sheer joy and when he asked if I would go with him I collapsed back into my chair replying

"Where you like, when you like..."

For it was true, I never wanted to let Holmes out of my sight again. I was home in the safe harbour that was my friend Sherlock Holmes.

The Next Day (Holmes)

I sat in my chair in Baker Street once more and I was overwhelmed with emotion seeing my friend so overjoyed and the seeing those blue eyes light up dancing in joy like the candles in the church this morning. I resolved never to leave him again. You are my Boswell and my friend. A brother I will always stand next to until the end of time.

I wads lost and now I am found. I could not ask for anything more.

Twenty Years Later

"Holmes, where are you?" cried Watson, fear creeping into his voice as he tried to see through the mist that threatened to engulf him completely.

"Here Watson!" said Holmes

Slowly my weary eyes adjusted to the misty light and I saw my friend waiting for me. He was just as I remembered him, ready, alert and ready to begin our new adventure, He had promised never to leave me again, and he held his word. Even as I lay in that bed this very night I felt Holmes standing near me and in an instant I was standing next to me. My chest no longer hurt me. I felt my sprit soaring, Holmes smiled and I knew I was home.

"The Game's Afoot "he said

I laughed and held his arm. I would never feel like an empty house again.

I was lost and then I was found. My cup runneth over.

A/N Written at 3am this morning, Not sleeping at the moment as it will be six years next Weds that my Mother died. This story is dedicated to her memory. Hope it's ok. Apologies for the layout. Having problems with document manager !!