Many's the time I have run alongside Sherlock Holmes down the streets of London, both figuratively and literally speaking. The years I had spent by his side as a bachelor had slowly caused me to become addicted to the adrenaline rush associated with danger. I lived for the complexity of the cases which faced us, and the triumph, pride and admiration I would feel when they would suddenly become clear to Holmes and afterward, subsequent to some explanation, to myself. I would regularly sit amidst pages of monotonous paperwork in my practise and feel my hand slip into my pocket out of habit, longing to feel the comfortable, metallic weight of my revolver: a promise of excitement. Over the paper every morning I eagerly perused the news, hoping for some sign of a new case for Holmes. My craving for action had peaked at the point where, even if Holmes did not have a case, I would pine after his company and wander over to Baker Street as soon as my demanding practise would allow, and would most certainly drop everything and follow him anywhere should he say the word. Though, my inability to keep away was not always choice. Should he have a long period of idleness, as he had had recently, I was continually on my guard, occupying his complex mind whenever and however I could to stave off his blackest depressions and keep him from turning to the cocaine, the dreaded seven-per-cent solution which had so consumed him before.

In any case, I simply could not settle down to married life. In the months prior to my marriage, a change had occurred in mine and Holmes' friendship which had left us both reeling somewhat, and some space from him had initially been a relief. Despite this issue, which we had neither discussed nor resolved, I still found myself drawn to him and the life I once had with him. My dear wife, it pains me to say, knew she came second, and would always come second, not purely to Holmes, but to the lifestyle featuring his constant presence to which I had become accustomed and could simply neither leave nor change. At the time I was reluctant to explore whether this was due to the weakness of my disposition or the strength of what Holmes and I still shared but I could deny neither. She subsequently left me to live with her sister in Farnham. Holmes seemed oblivious to the pain and guilt that consumed me at this turn of events, barely batting an eyelid as I struggled with my belongings back to his rooms, which were now once again to be our rooms, on Baker Street late one afternoon.

'Your appearance does not surprise me, my dear Watson,' he said placidly over a pipe, seated comfortably in his armchair as I put a few of my medical books back onto the shelf that I noticed he had never refilled since my absence. 'Your knowledge of the fairer sex is infinitely better than mine, and I am sure that I do not need to inform you that women are of a singularly sensitive and capricious order. Her departure was inevitable, you understand.'

'I'd rather not talk about it, Holmes,' I responded slightly bitterly, starting on the final box. I had expected there to be more of my life to bring back here. Looking around me, I noticed that a fair proportion of my belongings had remained after I left; or I'd seemingly gradually brought them back from my new house in Cavendish Place over the ten months or so I'd been living as one half of a married couple, subconsciously moving my existence back here object by object to where the selfish part of me evidently longed to be.

Holmes stretched his long legs out in front of the fire, watching me, wreaths of tobacco smoke swirling round him. I turned my back on him and busied myself with another shelf, absently fingering the relics from numerous solved crimes from our past before unnecessarily rearranging the books simply to occupy myself.

'I observe that you are hurting, Watson.'

'Oh, you do, do you?'

'Yes, I do. You are portraying the very textbook signs of a man who is suffering from distinct mental and emotional anguish. The way you continue to bang those books around is a sure indication, and I must confess, my dear fellow, that I'd rather you didn't take your sorrow out on the literature.'

'I wish you wouldn't analyse me all the time, Holmes,' said I, not particularly feeling the amount of strength or patience I usually required to deal with him when his mood turned to one of this nature.

'Furthermore,' he continued as if I hadn't spoken, 'your body language is tense and the left corner of your collar is very nearly beginning to fray from the way you insist on rubbing it between your fingers whenever something is playing on your mind. The smell of brandy on your breath tells me that you have been in your club all afternoon brooding. However,' he concluded, 'I have deduced exactly what is wrong with you.'

'Excellent,' I replied sarcastically. 'Pray, do enlighten me.'

'You are worried that this occurrence involving you and your dear wife -'

'She has a name, Holmes,' I sighed irritably.

'- my apologies; you and your dear Mary, has transpired entirely through fault of your own.'

I turned to look at him, leaning against the sill of the bow window, fuming silently and awaiting his continuation.

'Her departure was not down to you, my dear fellow. I have long examined the brain of the female of our species, albeit from a distance, and I admit that upon studying Mary when I first met her, she did not strike me as a suitable mate for you. She was not nearly interesting enough.' Here, he drew on his pipe again, staring into the fire, either oblivious to, or ignoring, the fact that my fists were now clenched at my sides. 'So, having expected this pattern of events from the very beginning, I will say again that your return here is of no surprise to me. You are an energetic man, curious by nature, and though you lack in imagination occasionally, you are showing some very positive signs of a capable mental capacity. Naturally, these little problems of mine tend to be of interest to you, and your assistance is always truly appreciated, having grown to be a necessity to me. If your wife can not understand the fact that you desire to have other interests save your practise and her company, then it is surely her problem, not yours, and there is no need for you to feel guilty about it. As for how things stand between ourselves, I do not see why it would not be possible for things to return to the way they once were.'

'Are you quite finished?' I said in a low voice after a few moments of silence.

He looked pensive for a moment, pipe between his lips. 'Yes, I believe I am.' He was almost smiling. That thin, expressive mouth was curved slightly upwards at the corners which told of the pride he felt at having provided me with what he thought to be such words of wisdom. I have no doubt that he was expecting me to be glowing with pleasure at this rare display of humanity from him, this reassurance that I having made a huge mistake and driving my own wife away in the process was not my fault. I remained motionless, vigorously exercising the long-suffering nature that I had strengthened during my years of living in the company of this infuriating man. Holmes took my sustained stillness as a positive sign.

'Come, come, man; it's not all that bad. You are back at Baker Street anyhow, and at risk of sounding uncharacteristically sentimental, it is undoubtedly where you belong. Sit down, Watson. Let me see you once more in your customary armchair.'

'I do not wish to sit.'

This inspired the effect I had wished it to. Holmes had become so used to his masterly tone and my acquiescent and admiring nature that my failure to consent to his simplest request stimulated his interest. His grey eyes turned at once from relaxed and pondering to steely and concentrated as he looked me over in his singularly introspective fashion. He said nothing as he tapped the ashes from his pipe and returned it to the mantelpiece, soon replacing his intent gaze upon me once more as he positioned his fingertips together in front of his lips.

'Why, if I may ask, do you not wish to sit?'

'It is really what you expect me to do, Holmes? To sit down with you and smoke and laugh over old times? Well, your great mind has failed you. Despite your finely honed powers of deduction, you have made a mistake.' I turned from him once more and looked out at the darkening street below me, fighting to keep my temper under control.

'Oh, pull yourself together, Watson!' said Holmes harshly. 'I demand that this sulking discontinues this very instant and you stop being so ludicrous.'

The aggression within me finally broke through my passive shell. 'Ludicrous! If there's anyone being ludicrous right now, it's you. It has apparently escaped your notice but my wife has left me, Holmes. My wife! And I loved her. I know you don't understand love, and nor do you wish to, but believe me, it does exist. She was the most beautiful, gentle creature, the sweetest thing on this Earth, and I have lost her.'

'It was bound -'

'Don't you dare tell me it was bound to happen!' I shouted, striding closer to where he sat. 'It was not doomed from the start. She loved me. But because of you, Holmes -'

'Oh, it was due to my error, was it?'

'Yes, it was due to your dashed error! You expect me to be there for you too much. These last couple of months, your needs became excessive. Because you didn't have a case with which to entertain yourself, I have been spending virtually every fraction of my time not occupied by my practise with you. You could see it was driving Mary and I apart, and yet you continued to need me, continued to rely upon me to keep you from driving yourself to distraction or taking your God-forsaken cocaine!' I barked the last few syllables with such a hatred that I myself did not know I was capable of.

'You could have stayed away,' said he, still studying every move I made as I paced the small room. I was sure there was still the hint of a smile playing on his lips and I could tell the logical part of him, the vast constituent of his being, was enjoying analysing this part of my character which he so very rarely provoked me enough to see.

'No, Holmes, I could not, because unlike you, I have a conscience. You knew very well that I would not leave you to yourself, and you unashamedly took advantage. Through all this, you have shown to have not one shred of human compassion within you. Not one! You wanted this to happen.' There are few times that Holmes had seen me thoroughly angry. Even the tone I would take when rebuking his habit was mere annoyance compared to this. I gestured to the space between us. 'We need to address this Holmes. This, whatever it is, has caused these problems. I warned you at the start, we can't –'

I had evidently hit upon a nerve as his features became more animated and the volume of his tone increased slightly. 'I had considered that the conversation would take this turn, but I discarded the thought because I thought you were better than this, Watson!'

'What, better than placing the blame where it truly lies?'

He sighed evenly, composing himself. 'The blame, as you so eloquently put it, does not lie with me.'

'It's your fault she found herself continually alone!'

'How is it, man, how?' he barked, standing and taking a cigarette from his case. 'You always want to come with me on my investigations. I find you here when I don't require you. You choose to frequent these rooms because they are preferable to your practise and my company preferable to the company of your own wife!'

I began to try and dispute, but he cut across me in his most masterful tone.

'Nine months, three weeks. That is how long this fancy of yours has lasted. Not even a year.' He gave a humourless snarl of laughter, eyes dark with sardonic amusement.

I gaped at him for a moment. 'It was what I wanted, Holmes. If you had stopped thinking of yourself for one minute -'

'Give up, Watson.' He looked at me darkly from where he stood next to his armchair, lit cigarette between his fingers. 'I was merely being tactful earlier, but you have forced me to this. Your marriage dissolved because of you and you only. Due to your lack of willpower and fixation with what we have been doing for the last few years, you could not stop when the duty of the modern, conventional man called upon you. You are not that sort of man.'

'You are wrong, Holmes.'

'It is time you ceased lying to yourself.' He drew on his cigarette.

'No.'

'Admit it!'

'I will not!' Before I knew what I was doing I was across the room, in his face, fists clenched. My anger faltered for an instant as I realised that what I was doing was foolish. He must have seen the hesitation in my eyes as I approached him for he did not move an inch, just stared at me evenly as I fought to compose myself and remain dignified.

'Is violence wise, Doctor?' he said quietly. 'I know you pride yourself on being a man of action, but let us consider the situation here for a brief moment prior to rolling up our shirt sleeves. Now,' he moved so that I was forced to take a step back and flicked the remainder of his cigarette into the fire, 'it does not take an expert to see that you are of somewhat more athletic build than I, but you must remember that a favourite pastime of mine is boxing. I can therefore assure you that there could only be one clear victor between us, for anything that I lacked in...spirit,' he remarked with an amused glance to my fists still clenched at my sides, 'I would most certainly compensate for with precision, accuracy and experience. For these reasons, and for the fact that I'd really rather not be forced to engage in combat with you, I urge you to relax your fists, my dear Watson, take some deep breaths and stop looking at me so murderously. I am in no doubt that we can discuss this like adults.' With another small smile he sat back down in his chair, curling his legs underneath him. 'Cigarette?'

I could endure him no longer. Sighing deeply and fighting to keep my anger within me, I walked away from where he sat, no longer trusting myself despite his warning. I donned my hat and hastily made my exit, almost walking into Mrs Hudson as I opened the door.

'Ah, Doctor Watson,' she said with a friendly smile. 'It is a pleasure to see you back. Shall I prepare supper for you both?'

'No thank you, Mrs Hudson,' I answered somewhat stiffly, putting on my coat, 'I shall not be returning tonight.' With that I descended the seventeen steps, shaking my head as I heard our dear housekeeper reprimanding Holmes for having upset me already.