I stare at the empty chair across from me. A thin layer of dust has accumulated on the dark cushions. The flickering firelight emphasizes the depth of that empty chair, revealing how deeply important and necessary to me is the person who should be occupying it.
I sink back into my own seat, wreaths of smoke drifting up and around my head, drawing my thoughts forward with startling clarity. I have found...there is something more torturous than ennui.
If Watson ever leaves me again, even for as brief a time as a week's holiday, I am going with him.
A/N: For my friend, dilletante2. Missed you my dear!