Thank you to Azolean for Beta-ing!

One of my best friends on here, Demon Shuriken (Shuri) is away at a friend's house. I miss her terribly *sniffle * and was so inspired to write this. Shuri and I email each other all the time, so I really notice it when she's not around.

Shuri, you have no idea how much more interesting you make my life.

Watson had left me for an overnight vigil with a patient, and I kept finding myself looking over at his usual seat in our sitting room, opening my mouth to make some comment about some story in the evening paper. Every time I was greeted with the empty chair, I thought about how lonely I felt without him. This was his first overnight vigil in a long time. Except one or two nights that he had been up nursing me through a wound or that terrible bought of pneumonia I had gotten about six months ago.

I had soon discovered how much I hated to be alone. It just reminded me too much of other times when I had been alone.

First there was Watson's marriage. Much as I respected Mary, and wished the new couple well, I hated having those rooms to myself. I wanted my Boswell to be there. He visited semi-regularly, but I never found it sufficient. Then there was the three long years after Riechenbach, where I had traveled under an alias. I had met scores of people but none of them ever came even close to how much Watson meant to me.

As bad as it had been for me, I knew it had been doubly as painful for Watson, who had thought me dead. I still thanked whatever higher being there was that Watson had forgiven me. I could not have returned to this life without him.

Watson had gone on many nightly vigils, and I didn't fear for his health. I just missed him. I missed him terribly. It was this dull ache that wouldn't go away. I tried to busy myself with my chemistry table or my case notes, but nothing helped. My violin could only muster the most sorrowful of tunes.

I wondered how much longer. The clock had not moved forward twenty minutes since the last time I had checked. I knew I should go to bed, but somehow, it didn't feel right. When Watson had moved back into Baker Street with me and I had grown re-accustomed to his soft snores upstairs.

I'm falling apart, I thought to myself. This isn't normal.

I wondered if my nerves were high-strung for any reason in particular. I could think of nothing that would have me so on edge.

I looked at the clock again. 1:15.

"Pull yourself together," I said out loud, starting at the sound of my voice.

He would be back in the morning. I would hear him come in sometime between 7 and 8. We would share breakfast and everything would go on as normal.

I started pacing, feeling restless. I sat on the settee, remembering several things I ought to do in the morning.

At some point, I fell asleep.

"Holmes?" Someone shook my shoulder gently. "Holmes?"

I started awake, realizing I was in the sitting room, not my bedroom, and that Watson had been the one waking me.

"Whatever are you doing in here?" he asked, looking fine, if a little tired.

"I was waiting up," I replied without thinking.

"Good heavens, Holmes! You knew I wouldn't be back until this morning!" Watson exclaimed.

Mrs. Hudson entered with breakfast and looked over at me curiously. I hurried to get up and go busy myself with breakfast.

"Holmes? Are you all right?" Watson asked.

"Fine," I muttered, getting a plate.

Mrs. Hudson left us alone. I missed the small smile she sent to Watson.

"Holmes, I know you better than that."

"I missed you," I replied, knowing it was useless to put off the inevitable.

"Missed me? I was only gone overnight," Watson said.

"I know… but still," I said.

"Well, I have nothing tonight. What do you want to do?" he asked.

"Dinner and a concert?" I suggested.

"Sounds good to me," he said.

We shared a smile before starting to eat.