The personal blog of Dr. John H. Watson

The Sounds of Life

It's so quiet here. It's driving me mad. I used to wish for a little peace and quiet, but this is bloody well too much.
I miss the clattering of experiments, shouting at the telly, and the violin. God, I miss the violin, even in the middle of the night. I even miss the gunshots aimed at the wall by a madman fuelled by boredom.
What rubbish. I really do miss it, though.
That case, the first one with Moriarty, there was that young man who was strapped up in semtex in the middle of the city. We could hear the cars and pedestrians, the city bustling about him. He said he was surrounded by the sounds of life. That describes it perfectly.
I miss the sounds of life, Sherlock. Your life. My life. Is there really much difference?
You'd do anything to stop being bored, even play with Jim sodding Moriarty, and you know what? I'd do anything to stop this oppressive silence.