I remember the day clearly. The day that it all happened. I remember mentally scolding the weather for being so nice, I blamed the sky for being so clear, instead of the ever lingering mist that was so typical to London, I remember how I was mad at the people for enjoying the day that I… But I'm getting ahead of myself.

It was a nice august evening in 1895, and as per usual, I and Holmes were sharing the close quarters of 221b Baker Street, sitting by the unlit hearth. I was looking at the notes of a case I was planning to write up sometime soon, because the statute of the various slightly illegal deeds during that case had run out. Not that I regret any of them. It had, after all, brought justice to one of the more wicked criminals in London. But Holmes was being bored. We hadn't had a case in over a week, and Holmes was slowly growing more and more irritable, and when he finally succumbed to his cravings, and stood up, making his way to the ever-familiar brown Moroccan case, which contents I steadfastly disapproved of. Yet, that didn't stop my dear friend from taking it up.

I don't know what came over me. Maybe it was my Oath that finally claimed its say, maybe it was because of the fact that I was feeling rather prone to take up my habit that made me speak up. But probably, it was but my mere friendship, that couldn't cast another glance at this sort of behavior. And so I softly started: "Holmes, I think we need to talk."

Holmes paused in his retrieval of the box, looked up from the desk where he stored the blasted thing. "What is it, my dear fellow?" He asked nonchalantly, as if unaware of the inner turmoil that I was sure was visible in my face.

"These words are hard to say, my dear fellow, and I know I'm asking for a lot…" I continued, somewhat clumsily as I tried to get over the slight embarrassment this conversation was bringing me. But then he interrupted me.

"My dear Watson, nothing you could ever ask for is ever going to be a lot, after all that you've put through for my sake." He said, his eyes taking on that gentle shine that was only reserved for his dearest, and only friend. I swallowed hard, knowing that he might not have the same look in his eyes in a few moments.

In the meantime, he had taken up the box, and had sat himself on the sofa, the tourniquet already tightened around his arms, making his veins pop out a little more pronounced than usual. Swallowing my pride, I looked him square in the eyes and without further delay, just stated what was on my mind: "I wish for you to stop taking that infernal liquid."

My voice had shaken more than I would've liked, and the dreadful knot in my throat wasn't making it any easier to swallow. My embarrassment was rearing its ugly head, but I didn't back down from the stare Holmes was giving me. Not after I finally said what had been burning on my tongue for so long.

I watched his face carefully as his warm gaze transformed, first one of confusion and surprise, slowly shifting into one of cold understanding, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Watson… you of all people should understand how my brain works. How important it is for me to have stimulation, either in form of a case, or in a more… artificial form."

He choose his words carefully, his tone masterly crafted into one of general apathy. Too late to take back the words I said now.

"I understand that well enough, Holmes. But as a doctor, I must warn you of the consequen…" I started to debate, before being cut off by an uncharacteristic yell.

"Don't you dare! Don't you dare claim you understand me, because, dear doctor, it's obvious to even most of the Scotland Yard themselves that you don't, and as for your pitiful excuse for the complaint… I think it's safe to say we both know it's not your Oath that makes these words come out of your mouth." He bit back, his snare clearly audible. The warmth that had been in his eyes, now had vanished for sure. I lowered my head in hurt.

"You're right," I whispered softly, after a while. I could feel his stare burning in my neck, but that didn't stop me. "I say it as your friend. A friend whom doesn't want to see your utterly unique talents go to waste." I continued, in the same whisper. It was barely audible, but Holmes, with his superb hearing, had no doubt picked it up. I heard his swallow and shift in his sofa. "I must apologize, Watson. My reaction was out of line, but surely you must realize that I can't just quit with it for good, out of the blue."

I looked at his face again, seeing a different kind of gentleness in them. A gentleness that even I rarely saw. He was honestly trying to open up to me, but, I just couldn't let it rest. "I can't look at how you destroy yourself, Holmes. I can't be a witness to this." I think I pleaded, but I am not sure of it. The battle of today was already lost however, I realized as I saw him put away an empty syringe to the side, but the war, however, rages on.

"I'm really quite serious, Holmes." I continued. "I lost you once already to the Reichenbach falls. I don't want to lose you to this too." I softly rested my case with this.

"Watson, I'm too far gone, I'm afraid. The urge is too strong for me. It's like a siren, calling to me, while I'm in a dreadful storm, far away from port."

"Holmes… I'm dreadfully sorry, but I'm afraid I must put you before an ultimatum. Either me, or the drugs… And please, my friend, choose wisely." This time, I am sure I pleaded with him, and I gazed in surprise as his expression took on a child-like innocence. "Watson…" He drawled out. "Surely you aren't serious my dear fellow?" His hopeful tone sent a thorn straight through my heart. "Quite frankly, I'm afraid I am." I answered.

He looked hopeless in that second, before he casted his impenetrable wall up again, hiding his true feelings from the outside world. "My dear Watson… I'm ever so sorry, and not a thousand apologies can make this up to you…" In that moment, I already realized what his choice was, and so I already had stood up and walked towards the door before the baritone of my friend's voice delivered me the words I wished I never had to hear. "I can't choose you."


AN: AND I'm back, at last, maybe finally finishing this story and giving it the attention it deserves.