A Study in Denial
By Galaxy1001D
From the wastebasket of Doctor John H. Watson, M.D.
Many of my colleagues have asked me why Mister Sherlock Holmes and I always address each other by our last names. To be honest I had forgotten myself until I managed to dig up an old journal from my first year at Baker Street.
One must remember that those were dark and lonely days for us. I had neither kith nor kin in the whole of England and Holmes' reclusive nature had isolated him from his fellow beings. I neglected to mention that our first months at 221b Baker Street was in the winter of 1881 and at the height of cold and flu season. Holmes succumbed to illness only once, but my poor health subjected me to a nearly constant parade of congestion, chills, and fevers. Neither of our practices were really established back then and we clung together as two men often do when cut off from all other support.
The summer of '81 brought a marked change to both our moods and our health. Although my shoulder continued to plague me I was capable of taking longer walks without exhausting myself and even enjoyed some days when I felt no pain at all. I was strong enough to volunteer some hours at Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, and looked forward to being hired on a part-time basis. Holmes would drop by on occasion to use the laboratory or to accompany me on the way home and those who had met my friend would remark on the uncharacteristic warmth in which he would address me.
Indeed, even Sherlock Holmes' acquaintances noticed that he had mellowed in his opinion of mankind when it came to my person. Lestrade himself made a churlish remark as he left our flat one evening after consulting my friend. That got the two of us to conversing on a topic that neither one of us really put into words before.
"I say Sherlock; did you see the look Lestrade gave us as he went out the door?" I frowned as the inspector descended the steps. "From the way he was acting you'd have thought we were two great whoopsies!"
"I know John," he laughed. "You'd think that he never saw me treat another with affection before. I admit that I disdain emotions of any type, but it's folly to assume I'm completely heartless."
"Honestly, he acts as if I'm some lovestruck girl or something," I pouted. "Stamford is just as bad. He asked me the other day if it was love at first sight. Can you believe that Sherlock?"
"Well we have become inseparable as of late," Holmes pointed out. "I despise sentiment and company of any sort, yet I actually look forward to spending time with you. Anyone who applies my practice of observation and analysis can be forgiven for drawing such a conclusion."
"Yes, having a dear friend may be out of your character," I admitted sulkily, "but what about me?"
"You yourself have admitted that when you returned to England you had not a friend in the world," Holmes shook his head sadly. "It's only natural for you to look forward to my company with undisguised anticipation. Right now you have no one else, and compared to me you're a veritable social animal."
"Just because I need company, doesn't make me desperate!" I protested.
"Of course, I meant nothing of the sort old boy," he purred, "but the bored wags need something to talk about don't they?"
"I admit that you're without a doubt the most fascinating man I ever met," I admitted, "but anyone who really gets to know you would agree with me. What do you suppose made them start talking about us this way?"
"I haven't the slightest old boy," Holmes shrugged. "Perhaps it's the fact that we now refer to each other on a first name basis," he winked mischievously. "To the uninformed outsider, it would appear to mark some momentous event."
"Of all the cheek!" I snapped. "We've roomed together for months! We were bound to become intimate enough to be on a first name basis sooner or later!"
"I know old boy I know," Holmes chuckled, "But you have to find the fallacy of human perception amusing at times, what?"
I sobered as I reflected on my behavior. "It's true I suppose," I sighed. "For the last few months I've been following you around like a puppy dog."
"And strangely enough I haven't minded," Holmes nodded. "You have the grand gift of silence John. More than that you have a nobility and honor that has forced me to reevaluate my entire opinion of human nature."
"Why thank you Sherlock," I blushed at this unexpected compliment.
"You're not a fool, yet you're so generous," he continued. "You're a natural caregiver, yet fearless when I'm threatened. I can say without embarrassment that you're closer to me than a brother, and that takes some doing old boy."
"Why thank you Sherlock," I ejaculated again as I shook his hand gratefully. "I can honestly say that I love you like a brother as well!"
"It's a lonely world out there John," he shrugged awkwardly. "I admit that I chose it, but I'm glad to have met such a loyal companion as yourself."
I have to confess at this point I as moved to the point of tears. "When I got back to England I had no one in the world!" I sniffed. "I thank Heaven that I found you!" I put my arms around him. "I love you Sherlock!"
"And I love you John," he said in a fatherly tone as he returned my embrace.
We looked at each other in horror, the color drained from our faces.
"Well erm, I'm feeling a bit tired Holmes," I coughed awkwardly as I backed away from him.
"Yes, you look it Watson," he agreed nervously. "It's a warm evening. I think I'll take a short stroll if you don't mind. Then I'll turn in early. Big day tomorrow you know."
"Of course Holmes," I blushed. "We're both tired. See you tomorrow then!"
We scampered away from each other like errant children caught in some mischief. From that day I can't recall a time that we addressed each other with our first names. Looking back at this document, I note certain inferences that I'd rather the public didn't entertain. Let us pray that if I lack the foresight to destroy this manuscript that my executors may put caution before audacity and see that it meets no other eye.
END