It was early morning, around 6am. Sherlock arose from his bed. The littlest ray of sunlight shone through the gap in the curtains. Even though it was Christmas, snow hadn't fell yet. Holmes didn't enjoy early mornings but he was finding it harder to sleep now that he was alone. His best friend had left, his lover lost, and all he had was nightmares of Moriarty and experiments with his dog, Gladstone, who he could do anything to. He didn't mind.
The thought of Moriarty possessed him. Grew on him like the hairs on his skin. But for now, he tried as hard as he could to work on other things, distractions, is what you could call them. Now, his fellow Watson was off on marry-land, he needed something to…do.
So, he slowly got out of bed, shaded his eyes from the bright daylight and got ready to go out. Leave his house and do something productive rather than staying in and mopping about.
He went over to the dusty mirror and examined his outfit, hoping for perfection but settled with the I-got-dressed-in-two-minutes attire.
He finally left his house, walked down baker street with his head held high. But being Sherlock Holmes, he couldn't help but take in every sound, every smell. The harsh noises of horse's hooves bashing the ground and wheels following swiftly behind. The chatter amongst passers by, oblivious to the fact that he, Holmes, was judging their every movement, their every subtle gesture.
Sherlock proceeded with his travels through many hours of the day.
It was 11pm, Holmes found himself in a pub. Drowning in his sorrows but then realising he never really had any to begin with so decided to just 'drown'. He then realised the time and wondered how many hours he had been drinking but his legs reassured him when he attempted to stand from the old wooden stool facing the bar. During his attempt, he accidentally elbowed a fierce, heavy built man sitting next to him. This man didn't take it too well.
'oi! What do ya think you're doing?' The man shouted, causing a few stares from the other alcohol charged brains in the room.
Sherlock tilted to face him and just stared at this strangers face for what felt like a second but in due fact was 2 minutes. Then finally, out spitted some words.
'Ex..cuse mee?' Holmes slurred.
'I said..' This forced the man to stand towering over Sherlock with menacing eyes. Holmes looked up in amusement. 'What do you think you are doing?' The man's pitch raised nearer the end, which Holmes pointed out in his mind as being rather angry.
'I think..' Sherlock started with a casual placing of the elbow on the bar however this looked a lot better in his head because in reality he made the dreadful mistake of slipping again but this time it wasn't his elbow that made contact with the stranger. Oh no. This time it was his leg. As Holmes fell backwards, his legs sprung in the air, nearly missing the stronger mans crown jewels. This only of course angered the stranger even more.
'Terribla sworry my old..tall ..boys' Sherlock struggled as he was lying flat out on the floor and seeing more that one man in front of him.
'That's it' And with that, the stranger picked Holmes up and practically dragged him outside. Sherlock tried to escape and it was proved by his facial expressions but it was no good. This older, stockier looking man had a firm grip and wasn't letting go anytime soon. After realising defeat, Holmes gave in to the inevitable.
'Oh go on, get it over..'
One punch it took to knock him out but the man didn't stop there. He decided this posh looking so and so needed to be taught a lesson…
2 days later.
'John, John…wake up!' Mary shook her new husband awake.
'What?' John mumbled. He never liked early mornings.
'We've got a lot to do today, it's nearly Christmas ya know' Mary blinked at him.
John smirked. 'I know, I know.. I haven't forgotten'
That morning, they had breakfast together and talked about the usual things. Dr. Watson read the paper, like always, and his wife sorted out a list of presents for everybody.
'John'
'Mhmm' John mumbled.
'Are you going to be seeing Holmes today?' Mary wasn't sure whether she should ask, he hadn't seen him in weeks but it was clearly effecting him, god knows how Sherlock was feeling. There was an awkward pause before John lowered his paper.
'Why would I want to do that?' He questioned, but inside he was missing his friend.
'Because.. Well you haven't seen him in awhile. I mean you might not be his partner any more but you sure are his friend. His only friend I bet' John looked at Mary and tried to take in what she was saying. Maybe he was his only friend?
'I might. Later' Mary settled with this answer and went on with her business. John wondered what Holmes was doing, without him, he hadn't came around or anything so it wasn't Watson's fault entirely. With that though, John grabbed his coat and headed for Baker Street.
Dr. John Watson felt the memories cross over his mind as he walked up the steps to his old residents. He knocked on the door and was pleasantly greeted by Miss Hudson.
'Dr. Watson!' She hugged him.
'oh, hello!' John was slightly taken aback by the powerful hug but embraced it anyway.
'How is everything?' She asked whilst beckoning him in. John walked in the doorway.
'Everything's good actually. How's everything ..here?' He didn't know what to say.
'Oh everything's..normal' she struggled also. After a moments silence, John asked where Holmes was.
'He hasn't been around here for days. Last time I saw him he was walking out the door at half 6 in the morning'
'Oh, did he say where he was going?'
'No, but when does he ever? I just assumed it was a case but he hasn't had a case since.. Well you left..I'm sure he's fine'
'Im sure' John was getting abit worried. If he hadn't got a case, where was he? Watson said his farewells to Hudson and set on a journey to find his friend.
Holmes opened his eyes. He couldn't remember what had happened. He seemed to be lying in a field. Somewhere.
All he remembered was the stranger punching his face, other than that. Nothing.
As he tried to get up, a sharp pain struck him in ribs. His mind started to over-think.
3 fractured ribs, 4 broken, minor head injury, knuckles bruised, knee caps grazed, clothes torn, small cuts around one eye.. Blood everywhere.
'What happened to me?' Sherlock rose slowly and put his head in his hands. He was defeated, weak and had no idea where he was. And if his day couldn't get any worse, it started to rain. ..
He dragged his feet through the now knee deep mud, his hair wet-through, dripping on his face.
When it rains.. He thought.
He must have been walking for hours, getting more and more lost. But then he spotted a sign, he recognised the name and looked slightly relieved when he realised it wasn't much further to home…
Dr. Watson had been searching all day. There was no sign of him.
Maybe he's left London? But he would of told me.. wouldn't he?
Many thoughts rang through his mind. The rain had started to get worse now, John was contemplating on returning home, to Mary, his wife. Or maybe he should revisit baker street again, Holmes might gone there whilst he was looking for him. So Watson stopped in his tracks and returned to his old home.
Sherlock Holmes was struggling. He finally made it to the end of his street. He looked terrible. No-one was on the street because the rain hadn't stopped so nobody could witness the state he was in which he was glad about. Holmes felt horrible, his head was bleeding and his whole body was throbbing. He wasn't sure he could make the last few steps. Tears began to fill his eyes, he felt broken in every single way. How did he let himself get this bad? To drink and get beaten up.. His thoughts wandered off as he tried to keep his balance, leaning on fences and walls. He was nearly there.
Watson was on the end of baker street. He really did hope Holmes had made it back and he was safe. The street was absolutely deserted, just as well, he thought. No-one in their right mind would come out in this weather. Then he saw something. A man, maybe. At the other end of the street. He couldn't quite see who it was, but then they suddenly fell to the floor. Now, Watson, being a Doctor and all, ran to their assistance.
Sherlock Holmes felt the rain on his face. He looked up to the sky, just wanting to close his eyes and never feel this way again. His insides ached, his outside burned, his head. Oh god, his head. Then he heard something, noises..footsteps but he couldn't be sure. The footsteps got closer. Then he heard it.
'Holmes!' John shouted as he realised it was Sherlock. He ran to him and knelt down beside him. He didn't care if the ground was wet, his friend needed him. Watson was shocked, there was blood all over him.
'Sherlock.. Can you hear me?' Watson needed to know he could hear him, he wanted to tell him that it was going to be alright.
Holmes didn't know whether he could speak to him because he left him before. The stubborn side to him got the better of him.
'What are you doing here?' Holmes said quietly.
'I was looking for you, can you get up? We need to get you to a hospital…'
'I don't need to go anywhere..' Sherlock attempted to get up on his own. John tried to help him. 'And I don't need your help!' Holmes didn't know what to feel, he felt so much hatred towards his best friend but so much admiration and love however he was too stubborn to admit it.
'Holmes. Seriously. This is no time to play games, you need to get some help. You're hurt!'
Holmes managed to hurl himself up with the help of a fence. He turned to Watson, soaking wet like himself, standing in the rain.
'Don't you think I know that..'
There was a pause before Holmes spoke again. 'Where were you earlier? I've been through hell this pass couple of weeks and you've done nothing! How can I possibly accept your help when I was never offered it before?' Sherlock started to struggle closer to his home.
'Never offered it?' Watson followed close by. 'Never offered it!' He repeated when he got nearer to him.
'Yes, I believe that is what I said'
'All I do for you is help you! I'm always there when you have a case, I'm your partner if you don't remember!'
'Was. You was my partner' Sherlock spun around to face him. Sadness in his eyes.
'Yes, well, when I was, I was always there to help you solve anything'
'Quite right too' Sherlock's mood soon changed after he remembered that he had lost Watson by his side, he didn't want to lose him forever. Besides he couldn't take anymore pain.
Watson saw a different man in front of him, he felt his heart break whilst looking at the sadness in Holmes's eyes. The tears beginning to fill them. Was this the same Sherlock? Had I done this to him?
'Are you going to tell me what's wrong with you?'
'Nothing is wrong with me, despite a few cuts, I am fine' Sherlock replied quickly.
'I know you're lying..'
Tears tried again to escape his eyes.
'I'm hurting'
John was surprised, Sherlock never ever spoke of his emotions. He never really asked for help.
Holmes continued even though this was so incredibly hard for him. The two men disregarded the fact that it was still raining and they were getting more drenched.
'And not only on the outside..' Holmes smirked. 'Inside' He looked at the ground, he couldn't bare looking at Watson.
'I went out drinking and I got into a fight, I think. All I remember is waking up in a field' Watson was listening to every word. Holmes sighed.
'You know when I woke up, I felt so defeated and weak but I knew I deserved it. I knew that I had it coming to me. Why the hell am I still living if all I'm living for is violence?'
A short pause.
'Holmes?' Sherlock lifted his head. John wanted to say something he had waited years to say. 'You're wrong'
'You are the most intelligent, stubborn human on this earth. If that isn't a reason to keep living, I don't know what is' Holmes lowered his head again.
'I'm such an idiot' Holmes stated.
'No' Watson put his hands on his shoulders. 'Look at me, you are far from being an idiot. You are the greatest man I've ever met and nobody can come near that' Sherlock raised his head and looked right at Watson. John smiled.
'Now come here'
For the first time. They hugged.