Rating: T
Pairings: BROOOOOMANCE.... and well, more in the end ;)
Disclaimer: These lovely characters belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but apparently is Andrea Plunket executor of Conan Doyle's estate and owner of the rights to the detective series. Guy Ritchie owns the film that inspired me.
Well, I'm merely borrowing them for my stories, created with my twisted fangirl mind.
NEW NAME BECASUE I CHANGED SOME OF THE STORYLINE. This fits better :)
Next to nothing
By AnimeBride
Mello
Sherlock Holmes
Ever since Watson had got his health back from the war injury he suffered from his service in Afghanistan he had always been awake and already dressed when Holmes woke. Not that the detective slept longer than anybody else. It was just the doctor who had the habit at waking up in unchristian hours.
This morning however, Watson slept far longer than he normally did. Holmes could only speculate why, one explanation worse than the other.
"I trust the night was to your likening," He greeted the man as he finally came out from the room, dressed in a striped shirt and a dark blue waistcoat, clothes that Holmes had happened to forget to give back once he moved.
"Indeed it was."
"Please," Holmes made a gesture to the already set table. He had heard when the doctor had awakened and used the time he dressed himself to get Mrs Hudson to prepare some proper breakfast for them both.
They sat down, like they had done so many times before, and helped themselves. Holmes looked at his friend with concerned eyes, Watson looked really tired. He still had bags under his bright eyes, despite the long nights sleep. It troubled Holmes to see him like this.
"And how is your arm?" He asked as he took a large bite of his scones.
"I can expect a fever to company me this evening," Watson answered lightly and Holmes nodded understanding.
"Shame on the man who expects an easy recovery," he said with a wink and received a grin from his friend.
Their conversation continued, they had always found it easy to speak to each other and when they did not, silence was not an unwelcome thing either.
"I suppose there is no point in asking where you were all night?" Watson said suddenly.
"No, since you already know." The black haired man answered with a calm voice, he had spent the night in the alley where Watson had been shot. He was sure his friend knew him good enough to guess that.
"Okay, I will tell you," the doctor sighed after a shot pause.
"I'm glad you are, Watson," Holmes smiled truly.
Holmes listed to his friend's story with great interest, only interrupting once he wanted more details about something in particular.
"What more of the last encounter?"
"I saw nothing."
"On the contrary, Watson, you saw everything. You fail, however, to reason from what you saw. Like I have told you before, you see, but you do not observe."
"Like you do."
"Yes. I wanted to consult with you before speaking of the matter. One should always have all the data before making a conclusion."
"What did you observe when you were there this night then?"
"Well, first of all there were the footsteps. They were a bit skewed, but I trust you said the man did not halt. I could therefore come to the conclusion that he was wearing some kind of costume to hind his real look from you. And I know by experience the pattern of those boots are often used-" Holmes stopped and looked at Watson with concern. He really looked worn-out.
"Pray continue."
"I can simply skip to the end if you whish so. You look tired, my friend," one thing he liked the most about Watson was his ability to listen. Yet how much he liked to reveal his conclusions to his dear friend something told him the latter was in more need for rest than his stories.
"Just tell me where we're going and I shall be on my way."
"There are some things I need to look through now that I have your story fresh in mind. You can sleep an hour or two while I do so."
"Promise not to leave without me?"
"I'll cross my heart," he made a cross over his heart with his right hand while holding up his left. Just like he had seen some kids do on the street. Watson looked at him for a moment, probably deciding whether he could trust him or not, before finish his breakfast with a considerable lighter appearance.
The new facts Holmes had been told during their conversation had indeed thrown a little more light over the case he had secretly worked on. The pile of notes on his desk was in fact notes and scribbles of what was happening to Watson. He had become quite sure of everything, especially after his night out. With the new facts he was sure of where they should look for more answers.
Watson woke up four hours later and they waited until the evening before they left Baker Street. Holmes insisted they would have more success with the help of the dark.
The trail led them to an old bearing house; it hadn't been used for at least a year. They stopped before the dark, rusty door.
"Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in," the door opened quite easily and revealed a dark corridor. As they made their way in, slowly, Holmes noticed something in the air that caught his suspicion. The smell of salt, another human body.
"I think, doctor, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready." He said with a low voice and searched his own pockets at the same time, only to find his revolver was not where it was supposed to be. Watson nodded and did as he was told.
They came to an end, the corridor parted into a door to the right and one to the left. Footsteps could be heard from the right door, but a crash from the left made them look at each other.
"Let's go and get some work done," Holmes said with a grin and opened the right.
"Yeah, let's go and get killed," Watson countered and turned left.
The detective walked into a quite big room filled with boxes and found himself staring down the black hole of a gun. He quickly threw himself to the floor as the fist bullet was fired. Another man came out from the shadows and joined the fight. Holmes dodged and did his best to fight back.
There was a moment where all one could hear was the sound of three humans fighting. A moment that seemed to be lasting forever. He somehow managed to knock the first one, who appeared to be a ginger man most likely from Scotland, into a state where he wouldn't be able to fight back for at least four months and the other one, a tall, slim black haired man, just unconscious.
"We figured you wouldn't be able to keep your slimy fingers off this case," Holmes turned around. It seemed like the latter was apparently still awake.
"Another way of putting it, nevertheless yes. You might as well tell me the reason for this whole circus now," a nasty smile Holmes did not like danced over the other man's lips.
"Don't think so highly of yourself, detective. It's not over yet, well, maybe for him, but not for you," Holmes could not help but to glare towards the corridor. "You think we didn't know you would surely find us?"
"What have you done to him?"
"Do not fear. It will only be a matter of time before you meet him," a loud noise was suddenly heard, the sound from a gun.
"Indeed it will," Holmes answered shortly and left the room, the other man's laughter echoing behind him. He opened the other door in the corridor and hurried inside. There was no one there.
"Watson!" he cried while running towards the door at the other side of the room. It took him into a raw, cold room. A large man and a little kid were knocked down on the floor. Watson was standing in the centre.
"Holmes?" he turned around and stumbled, Holmes was quickly there to catch him. "I never thought they would use the kid, they caught me off guard." The detective saw the empty injection on the floor and felt how something cold grabbed his heart by the sight of the cut on his friend's throat. They had shot him where he couldn't cut the vein to get the poison out.
"What should I do?"
"There's no use, it's already in my veins -"
"What can I do, Watson!?" Holmes cried as despair filled him. Their eyes met. It could not end like this, he would not accept it! He lowered himself and putted his own dry lips to the hot skin. Holmes did not know how long he continued to just suck out the blood from the wound and then spit it out, and he didn't really care. All he cared about was to get the deadly injection out from his beast friend's body.
"I think, old boy, that is quite enough," Watson finally said and Holmes stopped to look at the man in his arms. He looked really pale, yet it was something else in his eyes too.
"You are the doctor. You think that made it?"
"Maybe. Only time will tell."
"Come on, my friend. Let's go," Holmes carefully helped Watson back up and insisted to have a supporting arm around him. They started to make their way out from the room.
"And here comes the fever," Watson said with a crooked smile as they were out of the house. Holmes frowned; he did not like the situation at all. He only nodded and kept his focus on getter the two of them the hell away from there.
"Wait, Holmes. Let me rest a bit."
"What do I do, Watson?" Holmes asked as he placed the taller man against the nearest wall as gently as he could. They were alone in a slightly lighted alley.
"It's up to my body now, if it can defeat the small amount of poison or not."
"And if not?"
"Let's just hope for the first," Watson answered with a weak smile, trying to prevent his body to tremble too much from the pain. Holmes watched him closely as he kneeled down in front of him.
"I heard there's a new theatre coming to town soon," he said suddenly, hoping for a respond. He did not receive any.
"I have a case I could really use your help with."
"Really?" Watson looked at him with glassy eyes, trying to focus on his friend.
"Yeah, it's really interesting," there was no reply; he had to get his attention again. "How's Mary?"
"Fine, I believe," the words trailed of slightly in the end, like he was drifting away with them. Holmes could feel how a cold feeling inside of him spread.
"Come on, Watson, speak!" He grabbed his friend by his chin and forced him to meet his eyes.
"About what?"
"Frankly, I don't give a damn, " Holmes answered surly, but he then knew it."About me."
"You?"
"Yes, what you really think of me."
"You, Holmes," Watson paused and gave him a long glance, "are by far the most complicated, stubborn, most weird man –"
"Oh no, please don't flatter me."
"I have ever had the pleasure to meet. And I'm truly happy to have you by my side," Watson finished and smiled warmly. Holmes grip around his chin loosed and he felt… warm again. He returned the smile and offered Watson his hand. They had done it, the poison was gone.
The doctor stayed the night at Baker Street but insisted that he could return to his own household the very same afternoon. Holmes did not object that much, he felt an urge to be alone for once.
The days pasted and turned into weeks, Holmes did not attend to any new cases. He simply did not want to. His mind was set on other things, somewhat unpleasant things. Drugs became the method he frequently used to sharpen his mind to the point where he actually could sort the thoughts out. At last he came to the very point when he himself did not like the way he had become due to all the cocaine. An unplanned visit from Watson forced him to get hold on the reality for a moment and realize he could not continue on the path he now walked on. Or well, more like crawled on, to be precise.
He started to deal with his thoughts like they were facts on a new case. Data, data, data; he could work with that. It did not take him long before he realized he needed to deal with them, practically.
"Have you heard from her, after the case was closed?" Watson asked and waved his cigar towards the photograph of Irene Alders. He had joined Holmes for dinner and they were now enjoying a good smoke and drink together. Watson had asked if Holmes did not wish to company him in the sofa, but the latter had simply placed himself in a chair opposite it. Holmes did not like the times when Watson reeked of his wife.
"No. I have taken the liberty to study her but I haven't had any real contact with her."
"It's the first time you've ever done that, am I right?"
"That close, yes," Holmes answered honestly.
"How come?"
"She is the first woman who has ever outsmarted me."
"Only that?"
"I happen to find her fascinating."
"Poor woman," the doctor laughed and took a sip of his drink. Holmes smiled somewhat at the comment and they continued to smoke in silence.
"Do you know why all that happened?" Holmes suddenly said and nodded towards Watson's arm.
"Not really, no. I figured they had taken the wrong man."
"Oh, no, lad. They had gotten the right man," Holmes corrected him.
"What have I done to them?"
"One is as strong as his companion," Watson looked at him for a moment, the meaning of the words sinking in.
"They did all that, just to get you in the end?"
"I believe so."
"That's absurd."
"I wouldn't say, " the detective took a long smoke on his pipe before continuing. "They knew I would come for you in the end."
"Mary would kill me if I told her the real reasons behind my accidents," Watson shook his head and chuckled low. He finished his drink and then put the empty gas one the small table.
"Isn't the wife supposed to be someone whom you can share everything with?" Holmes said serious as the grave, his dark eyes pinning his old friend.
"Well…"
"I take you, to be my husband, my constant friend, my faithful partner and my love from this day forward. –" Holmes started to quote with a high voice.
"Holmes, please don't-"
"In the presence of God, our family and friends, I offer you my solemn vow to be your faithful partner in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad, and in joy as well as in sorrow. "
"And for God's sake, stop highlighting certain parts!"
"I promise to love you unconditionally, to support you in your goals, to honor and respect you, to laugh with you and cry with you, and to cherish you for as long as we both shall live."
"What's your point?" The doctor said with a calm voice, though Holmes could see how he started to tense.
"Your wellbeing," Watson just looked at him with a plucked brow, so he continued. "She can't possible understand you. Just take your service in Afghanistan for an example."
"I've told Mary all about it," Watson answered truthfully.
"And how did she take it?"
"Like you can expect any woman to react at the brutality in war."
"Yet she does not understand it."
"Are you saying we war veterans can't get married?"
"Of course not, who would I be to make a statement like that? It's simply that you, being the excitement loving man you are, Watson, cannot. To her, at least."
"Don't be silly, Holmes."
"Then why can't you tell her the truth?"
"It's complicated," Watson answered after a short pause.
"What do you feel for her?"
"I like the way she smiles at me when I come home. How she smells in the morning. Her eyes when she looks at me, the caring touch of her hands."
"Do you love her?"
"I believe I do."
"Despite all her faults?"
"Yes."
"Does she love you despite yours?"
"I like to believe she does."
"Do you ever show them to her?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You can't blame me for trying my best."
"Do you show them?"
"I'm merely a human."
"And?"
"You're just being rude now. Why are you asking anyway?" Watson sighed and gave Holmes a searching glance. The detective blinked slowly, putting down his own empty glass on the table before meeting the doctor's eyes.
"It seems like, my dear Watson; I have become more than just found of you."
AN: THANK YOU FOR ALL THE REVIEWS. Oh, and well, hello! I ALMOST KILLED HOTSON. Am I going to hell now? and if, may I take Holmes and Watson with me since they will be sinners after -gets a big spoilerlabel over my mouth- muuuufffhhhhhuuuggg!! Okay, no spoilers. Did you enjoy the chapter?
I have had the best winter sports holiday evaaah. Took it really easy with my dear Sherlock Holmes and his friend John Watson, ah I just love the stories. Then skiing with Chuck, I got brutally hit by a man on a snowboard though. Bastard!
My librarian wanted me to borrow The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes with Jeremy Brett and David Burke. OMG. If you haven't seen it; DO IT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. Ahem. –fixes my tie-
I know I have said this before, but I need to say it again. WHY ARE YOU SO INSANELY NICE, raven612!? And you, yes you! -ponits at you- Go and read her Sherlock Holmes stories, I COMMAND YOU. They're awesome, just like the author herself. Yesssss -nods-
A big thanks to Sara, of course. What would I do without you? No, seriously. Waaaaaah! -hugs-
Oh, and THANK YOU, Kuma and TanTan! Your support means a lot for me.
Please leave a review, they m-m-m-make me happyyyy. :D