Watson PoV

Holmes PoV

I've tried.

I've tried to understand where you were coming from, tried to help you with every case and every weakness.

I've succeeded, until now. I've met my match.

I've recommended every medicine, nagged you to stop, and even gone so far as to destroy the blasted thing.

We've been friends since the day we met,

We've survived the deadliest killers and solved the most puzzling cases.

But now, there's stopping us.

You were so wise, so strong, so smart.

You have beaten nearly every criminal that terrorized London.

You have been reduced to a shell.

It's the blasted drug.

It has you in its grasp.

It has taken your wizened mind and robbed you of the detective that could survive anything.

It's odd that you,

The greatest detective in England,

Hasn't seen what it's done.

It's ripped the meat from your bones.

Driven you into insanity.

You haven't been well, is what I tell the folks at Scotland Yard.

But I know better.

You haven't been yourself, is what I tell my mind.

But my heart knows better.

My friend isn't there anymore.

Instead, he has been kidnapped by white powder.

I've tried everything,

I'm helpless as you waste away.

The only solace I have is knowing that I tried my best.

I suppose my best wasn't good enough

To rid you of the substance that stole

My best friend.

I've tried.

I've done everything to keep you here, with me.

I tried not to play violin at three in the morning, I've tried not to do too many experiments on the dog, even gone to dinner with your fiancé.

But now, I'm in shame.

We were friends instantly.

You seemed to be the only one that was genuinely

Interested in me. We shared many a laugh, several pipes, even a copper penny or two.

But everything has to end somewhere.

You are so intelligent, so polite, so valiant.

You understand the ways of society.

You know how the world works among humans.

It is I that live underneath a rock.

You tell me to stop, yelled and swore that if you found even a speck of it in the house, you'd wring my neck.

You warned me,

As a doctor,

As a friend,

As a brother,

That it would be the death of me.

You were right.

It's the drug, I know.

I am its slave,

It has me down on my knees,

Waiting for the execution.

You have tried to yank me from it for years on end.

The folks at Scotland Yard, have been talking, I know.

You have told them I am not well.

But we both know better.

Sometimes, I think it's not my fault.

Others, I find every reason to blame myself.

You don't want to be around me any longer.

It hurts, but I know I deserved it.

It's for my own good.

I am no longer its slave.

I have stood up,

Taken the ax from its hands,

Slaughtered it like a pig.

I have only one thing left to say.

Thank you, Watson.

Well, what did you think? Was it okay? Did I do Holmes justice? I hope I did. It would be a shame to ruin such a fascinating character!