Author's Note: Hi There. I am rather new to this fandom, but in no way am I new to Sherlock Holmes, books or movies (both of which are brilliant.) I hope you enjoy my first story on here, and I thank you for reading. I would like to hear your thoughts on my work, should you wish to review.
Disclaimer:I do not own Sherlock Holmesor any of its characters, and do not profit in any way shape or form, except for my own selfish pleasure.
Warning:There are a couple of mentions to Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows, although, I do not mention what happens at the very end. This is not a slash story and I did not write it as such.
Abnormality. A condition or state that is known to be irregular or deviating from known and set standards.
Abnormality. A condition that became the normal life to Doctor John H. Watson after becoming the flat-mate and companion to one erratic and slightly insane detective, Sherlock Holmes.
It had not taken long for the calm and collected retired military man to realize that the random explosions and sudden shootings that emitted from room that housed the detective, were not in fact, abnormal.
It was not unusual for Watson to abruptly have a sudden lack of clothing (and for Holmes to have a sudden abundance of clothing), nor peculiar to lose long-time patients due to their misguided fear of the man who would spontaneously appear before the doctor and his patient, panting and wearing a silly smile on his face, all the while covered in black soot, and his unruly hair standing on all ends.
It was not strange for the doctor to be awaken in the early hours of morning, due to the impromptu plucking of violin strings, undoubtedly another attempt by Holmes to make some scientific discovery based on one of his musical theories.
It was not bizarre for Watson to be thrust into the middle of Holmes' plans, of which the doctor had hardly any information regarding Holmes' intentions.
Yet in spite of all of this, Watson could not shake the abnormal feeling he felt every time he found himself racing against time and chance, in order to help save his partner from situations that would have otherwise had the most fatal consequences. Better than anyone, Watson was acutely aware of how capable Holmes was, especially in times of unfortunate distress. He knew Holmes could take care of himself, as well as taking care of any perpetrator who was a potential threat to the detective (and the doctor as well, in some cases). Watson was so sure of his friend's abilities, he would even bet - and had bet - his entire salary on Holmes' capacity to hold his own.
But that did not mean that Holmes was immune to getting into dire circumstances that could potentially end in his demise or untimely death.
These were the times that would cause Watson to nearly lose all of his self-control, for he could put up with anything and everything that Holmes threw at him, but not death. Certainly not death.
Though he had moved out and married his love, Mary, he could not imagine life without Sherlock Holmes. He had berated Holmes for sucking him into his newest investigations against his will, yet at the same time, he was rather pleased. Though he would never outright admit it, he loved working on cases with Holmes. He loved the thrill and the adventure he experienced with his friend, and he couldn't picture his life without it present.
It was why Watson yelled at Holmes, calling him a "selfish bastard," and continued to hit Holmes' chest with every ounce of energy and adrenaline that coursed through his body. It was why he almost lost it on that train. It was why he was so terrified when he heard his dearest friend's desperate screams above the racket caused by Professor Moriarty, that led him to shoot the cannon at the light house, collapsing it around his already injured friend. Perhaps, one of the most absurd ideas he had ever had, he would think later on; because later on, he would have an abundance of time to think about many things -especially about how he really was the 'selfish bastard' and not Holmes.
Watson did not want to have to face up to the fact that his cherished, abnormal life with Holmes would be no more. And for that, he did what he had to. He had to use every scrap of his medical abilities to keep Holmes alive, and sometimes even force Holmes to live, should the conditions be rough enough.
In Switzerland, an onlooker peering at the pair of men dancing across the illustrious ballroom, might have thought the scene to be strange and rather obtrusive, to say the least. Their banter was present, as always, but the mood was dark and set, as they quietly discussed their plans, under the discreet guise of dancing. Watson looked at Holmes, his closest friend - his brother in bond - and told him to be careful. Such an empty phrase, Watson would later consider, and he contemplated Holmes' final, and as the detective would say, 'most inevitable' decision.
It was not unusual to part ways with Holmes during a case, each with a set plan of action in mind of how they were to twist upcoming events into ways that pleased them and aided their desired outcome.
It was not strange for Watson to watch Holmes leave, knowing the detective had delicately and purposefully left out part of his plans while discussing them with the doctor.
It was not bizarre in the slightest, for Watson to have to improvise at the last possible minute, due to an unexpected, yet still (somehow) anticipated, turn of events. Nor was it peculiar to finish up his own work and suddenly run to find Holmes to aide the genius in the final take down of whatever criminal or villain they were hunting down.
It was, however, completely atypical to finally reach Holmes and have only a moment to assess the situation and realize that it was completely out of his control. As it was completely odd to see the raw emotions of guilt, sorrow and acceptance flicker through Holmes' eyes before he closed them and hauled himself and Moriarty down to their fates.
It was not abnormal for Holmes to skate near the edge of death.
It was entirely abnormal for Holmes to finally, actually, die.