This is a tag to my story "No Greater Love" so I recommend you read that first to get some idea as to what has transpired before this. This is the final scene of the story I mentioned above only it is written from Holmes's point of view instead of Watson's. Enjoy :)

No Greater Friend

I was glad when I was able to return to Baker Street. The rooms there were quite preferable to those at the hospital. Watson had, as expected, taken on the role of a strict guard dog. I was not to exert myself, not to move unnecessarily, and not to argue. In short, I was forced to be content with lying about either in my bed or on the sofa. Though I realized after trying to rise to retrieve my pipe from the mantle that it really was better if I followed orders.

I complained of course, just to get Watson to grumble and mutter about my "intolerable bull-headedness" and so forth, but I offered no resistance. I longed to, but when I saw the tired look in my friend's eyes, perceived the lines of worry and care still visible on his face, I had not the heart to torment him further. I could only imagine the hardships he endured both during his captivity and his vigil by my bedside. What had I ever done to deserve his friendship and loyalty?

One night, my eye fell upon my violin sitting on the desk were I had left it before the whole affair began.

"Watson," I began, wondering if he would permit it, "would you be so kind as to hand me my violin?" He obliged me with a certain brightening in his eyes. I felt good to hold the instrument once more, to feel the smooth wood beneath my fingers. I carefully tuned it and began to play. I was so caught up in my music that it was several minutes before I noticed that Watson's countenance had become downcast and sad. Concerned, I ceased playing immediately.

"Watson, is something wrong?"

He looked at me. "No, not exactly," he mumbled. Knowing that this was not true, I remained silent, trying to encourage him to continue. After a brief silence, he did so.

"I just keep thinking about what happened. About what could have happened. I almost lost you, Holmes. Again."

I purposely turned away, laying my violin down on my knees. "But you didn't."

"I know, but . . . " He sighed, looking down at his hands. "I can't help but remember how close it was." I remembered suddenly what Watson had said to me as I lay nearing unconsciousness on the warehouse floor. "I lost you once! Never again! Do you hear me? Never again!"

My mind was drawn to that day not so long ago at the Reichenbach Falls. As I had lain upon the ledge, I had watched as Watson cried my name in despair. Three years he had thought me dead. And just a few weeks before, he had believed that he was going to lose me again. Guilt speared through me. Watson glanced up and for a moment our eyes met. I looked away, unable to hold his gaze.

"I am sorry, Watson, but I had no choice. I could not stand by while your life was in danger. Not if I could do something about it." I could not stand losing you. Especially not if it was my fault.

"If our situations had been reversed, I would have done the same thing," Watson said gently. I looked at him, surprised to see a small smile on his face. I could not help but smile back.

"I know," I answered truthfully. Good old Watson. "I never thanked you for staying by my side both in the hospital and here. It meant a great deal to me." It meant more than he could ever know.

"Don't mention it, old chap. Anytime." I laughed and picked up my violin. Dear old Watson. I resumed my playing with a heart full of warmth and content, hoping that my music would convey the feeling which my words could not. You are the greatest friend I could ask for. Thank you.

The End

Did you like it? I enjoyed writing it. It gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling. Please review and thanks for reading.