Author: QrYx
Archive:
Yes, but please ask and send me a link
Feedback:
qryx_fics@yahoogroups.com
Title:
Addiction
Rating:
PG13 for talk about drug use
Spoiler
Warning: Mild spoilers for SIGN and STUD.
Summary:
Watson contemplates Holmes's addictions.
A/N:
Inspired after reading The Sign of Four as well as The Red-
Headed
League and A Study in Scarlet. It was written a while ago and
is
a small part of what I will later expand into hopefully something
that
spans almost all of the complete works. hopefully Please
please
excuse any mistakes, I'm still new to the fandom, and am
still
learning. I would greatly like some feedback to know what you
all
think of this. I also want to thank my betas, Dru, Helen and
Persephone,
for helping me with my little mistakes and nervousness
especially.
I tried to keep with Watson's tone and writing style...
but
again, as I'm new.... please forgive my mistakes…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
From
under hooded eyelids I watched you go through familiar motions.
You
know I'm watching over the top of my newspaper when you rise and
remove
the bottle from it's accustomed place at the corner of the
mantelpiece.
The syringe follows from its bed of cloth and morocco
shell.
As
you delve into the few minutes of quiet rumination, staring at
the
dots and marks on your arm like you are trying to connect the
dots
of a child's puzzle, I think about addiction. The many times I
speak
up against this habit of yours while you ignore or brush aside
my
concerns time and time again. Your habit of cocaine and morphine
ruins
you body, destroying you health and polluting your cells day
by
day. It is unhealthy, and like any doctor unhealthiness is my
enemy,
just as criminals are yours.
Who
am I to speak though of unhealthy addictions? You are my cocaine
and
morphine all rolled into one. From the start since I moved in,
the
puzzle that is you has unraveled my senses and sucked me into
its
realm. And God help me, I do not want to leave its seductive
embrace.
No, I want to spend eternity in its succor, languishing the
rest
of my days contently like a nursing babe at his mother's
breast.
It started so innocently. So
simply. When Stamford introduced us, it
was
pure curiosity. His remarks just spurred my imagination on.
Spending
days at a time bedridden while recovering first from my
wounds
and then from the enteric fever gave me ample time to culture
a
healthy imagination. Stamford and his talk about your mysterious
ways
and your queer ideas lit a spark of inquisitiveness that since
then
ignited a forest fire.
Daily,
I sit here and observe you. First, it was like a game, with
me
looking for a way to understand you better, to figure you out. I
couldn't
believe that you were that complex a man. I just knew that
there
was a simple and easy answer. All those days spent querying
you
as innocently as possible, trying to dig deeper into your psyche
to
discover what manner of man you were, making those silly lists to
try
and sort it all out in my own mind. If only I knew then half of
what
I know now. It was as if I had only gotten a whiff of opium and
hungered
to know every aspect of the drug, the shape of every puff,
the
essence and the body of it all.
Ah,
at that time I had only taken but a few baby steps into the
twists
and turns on the maze you call your mind. And I was lost.
Lost
and I did not want to be found. No, I loved wandering about in
there.
Learning to read you, your expressions, your movements. Every
gesture,
every inflection burned itself into my brain. Intrigued,
absorbed
and captivated but not only your brilliance, but also your
peccadilloes
and your flaws.
Oh
yes, you have your addictions, your craving for a good case, your
insistence
on perfection while solving the latest mystery, your
cocaine
and morphine, your music and your violin. Yes, those are
your
addictions. You, you are mine.
TBC??