Sherlock Holmes-what happened after the fall.
I sat in Watson's quaint little study. It was so…how can I put it? 'Not at all like Watson' but it was what I expected of Mary with the pink little chairs and laced doilies. He was typing away on his typewriter, I had deducted that Watson wasn't doing too well, from the black bags under the lids of his eyes, to the wrinkled suit, the way the ink on his hands and the coffee on his shirt cuff suggested he'd been there all night-and the fact I'd watched him-he also carried an air of a widower but his Mary was in fact well and alive, he had sighed about 48 times in just one hour. I sat and wondered how long the post would take to get here-I deducted that 1-I was getting cramp in my legs and lower back; 2-I had an itchy nose; 3-I hadn't moved from this spot since 6:00 last evening. In conclusion-I really had to go to the bathroom.
Mary came into the room, "John," she had the post with her, "John?" she placed the package on the desk "uhum?" Watson replied "you should probably pack. It's half past two and the carriage is coming at four," she leaned down next to him, "um," he mumbled at her still typing "it's going to be a beautiful week in Brighton," Watson tried to smile but it looked more like a grimace "it'll be fun," he moved the typewriter along "I'm looking forward to it," he continued to type, Mary looked at him with an arched brow and said "you know I miss him too, in my own way," his typing ceased and they were quiet for a while. Then he turned and said, "he would of wanted us to go," Mary smiled and let out a little chuckle "he would have wanted to come with us," Watson smiled and Mary stood "when is Mrs Hudson coming for Gladstone?" Watson reached for the big wrapped up box (my present for him) and said "er, soon," he frowned at the box and I had to suppress my erg to laugh or jump up in excitement-childish of me I know-"three o'clock," he opened up the brown paper, revealing the wooden box he slid open the top and looked inside, pulling out Mycroft's special supply of oxygen, a shocked expression crossed his face as he held the apparatus, a knowing look spreading across his face in a mixture of sorrow and hope, placing the objects to the side he said "Mary?!" he stood abruptly with the oxygen tankard "who delivered this parcel?" her voice came from outside "the postman," she said confused he marched out of the room "the usual chap or did he look peculiar?" he sounded calm, by this point I whipped off my head covering shushing Gladstone, pointing at him to keep his head down. And before I went to show myself to my fellow conspirators couldn't help but look at what Watson was typing. It said: '…any attempt at finding the bodies was absolutely hopeless, and so there, deep down in that dreadful cauldron, of swirling water and seething foam, will lie for all time, the most dangerous criminal, and the foremost champion of the law, of their generation. I shall ever regard him as the best, and the wisest man, whom I have ever known.'
The end
I swallowed against the hard lump lodged in my throat. That was…oh Watson, what have I done? Well one thing I could right straight away…'the end ?' click, there, that's better. Now for the matter of Dr Watson, a more delicate affair; I made it to the top step before Watson ran towards the stair case. He looked up at me, Mary at his side, his cheeks paled-drained of colour, Mary gasped and her hand fluttered to her throat-now that was something funny, she was usually made of stronger stuff. I fidgeted under all the attention, standing here in my undergarments, "Watson I-I…" I didn't know what to say, suddenly he snapped. Snarling in rage "NO!" he rushed up the stairs, I put my hands out palms up, in surrender, fearful of this Watson, he pushed me into the wall "Watson!" his face transformed into a stranger, he'd never looked at me like this, his hands tight vices around my forearms "NO! No! No! You! How…? How could you?!" he yelled into my face, banging my back into the hard wall, my body reverberated with the force, the back of my head bouncing off the wall, then Watson began to cry, "why?" and his hands came across my chest as he gripped the neck of my urban camouflage, his head coming to rest on my shoulder, sobbing, his body shuddering with the effort to hold it together. I wrapped my arms around him; I looked over at Mary, who was crying too. "I'm sorry," was all I could say, I wanted to embrace him since I returned to London, seeing the misery I had left him in. Mrs Hudson at that moment chose to walk through the door, she dropped her bags, "MR HOLMES!" she shrieked, and then went faint; Mary propped up the older lady and led her to the drawing room, glaring at me over her shoulder. I simply couldn't care about them at this moment, reunited with Watson once again. "Watson," I said softly he cried harder "John," he looked up at me then, "pull yourself together," I scolded sounding cold hearted when in fact I was as heartbroken as he was. He wiped his eyes, sniffed and glared at me "you didn't think to write?" I smiled sadly "I couldn't Watson," was all I was willing to say, he pushed against me again, banging me into the wall, punishing me for leaving him like this, "gently Watson!" I reprimanded him, "what?" he said "I said gently Watson, my body's not what it used to be, not without the best Doctor to look after me," I joked making light of the situation, his professional side took over, assessing me. Seeing my discomfort he said, "Come, sit down, tell me what happened," supporting me, noticing the extent of the injury of my knee. We entered the drawing room, Watson supporting me, Gladstone at heel; Mary was fanning a distressed Nanny, who was a little more worse for wear. "Oh! Mr Holmes! I'm so glad you're not dead, but how? How did you survive?" she tittered at me, "all in good time nanny, let me sit and I'll tell you of my survival," then I sat in the comfy armchair, Watson pulling the stool to sit by me, not taking his eyes off me for a moment. I told them my edited version of the truth, as always they were never to know the extent of how things went. I still remember it well…