"A small part of me wishes you did."
He exhaled a slow breath and melted away from me. I sunk my head upon the table and closed my eyes, exhaustion quickly ebbing at my conscience.
"Don't say that," I heard him whisper.
"You proposed it yourself," I reply. "And I won't lie to you, no matter who you are."
He sniffed, and said nothing.
I was very near sleep when he asked his final question for the night. "Have you always been able to do this to me?"
"Do what?"
"Guilt."
I was back in my bed come morning, a plate of bread and cheese set out beside me. I looked at it for a long moment not really feeling hungry but bundled it up and stuffed it in my pocket nonetheless. My eyes felt heavy and burned from the restless sleep I endured; my overall being feeling haggard.
"I see you didn't find my offerings of breakfast suitable to your likings," Holmes was standing at the door, his back turned to me with a folded piece of foolscap in hand.
I shrugged off his remark. "I'm not too hungry."
"Are you still going through with your plans of starvation?" I ignored this. Instead, I stepped towards him until there was a good six feet between us. I knew I was risking probably more than I could afford, but I had hopes of last night's conversation changing him more than what he was now showing.
"Is your offer still open?"
He turned to me. "Which one? The one where I let you walk out that door, or the one where you become my new accomplice?"
"I..."
"Well, I suppose it wouldn't be new to you, but… you know my meaning."
"Holmes, I may or may not have conveyed this to you last night," his eyes sharpened as I said this. "but it is against my nature to turn on someone with whom I've established so much. You are not him, to say the least, but you are still the same man. I won't, I can't do anything if I know it'll bring you down as well. I don't know where I stand anymore, everything I knew having been butchered to the point of being unrecognizable. I need your help, Holmes. I need it more than food at this point but I won't get it unless you are equally willing to go out on a limb for me. If I must get my hands dirty to obtain this, then I will. But I must ask if you truly believe what I told you last night? Will you help a man at who is at his wit's end?"
He looked thoughtful at my appeals, and as was normal, he replied with total indifference to my concern. "I see no reason why I should."
"You're right in saying so," I agreed heavily. "But I just thought I'd state my case before making any decisions concerning you. It's not terribly surprising to hear your answer."
"My dear Doctor, I haven't answered you yet. I am only curious as to why you think I'd be willing, or even able to do anything in the first place? What would my other self do?"
"You'd deny my claims of crossed universes and try to find out what disorder I was suffering. Not that I'm not half convinced of doing that myself."
He nodded and walked out the door. Calling over his shoulder, he said, "We shall see, Doctor, though I still don't understand. You came all the way here, endured a lifetime of trouble only to come to a man who may or may not refuse you. It is a risk, a valuable trait which I would hate to see wasted. Answer my question and then I'll answer yours."
"Ask away."
"Will you forget everything?"
"Everything? What do you-
"Each and every morel you've been duped into upholding by what people like to call society. Will you accept my hand and follow me into damnation with only the slightest hopes of your own possibly impossible desires coming to fruition?"
I looked down at the hand extended toward me. I hesitated for only a moment before grasping it in my own.
"Yes."
"Then I will help you, Doctor. Now then, we've an appointment to see to."
The moment we stepped through the door of that bar, I was assaulted with the scent of strong alcohol and a mixed cloud of tobacco smoke. Above the din of voices I could clearly hear the clink of glasses and the laughter from florid faces. I drew my brows at the establishment, expecting Holmes to meet his appointment amongst better company. But what did I know? Perhaps this was all a rouse; actors hired to conceal the criminals who gathered to contrive their evil schemes. Did they do that? Was there a community of criminals with Holmes at the lead? I wondered if they even liked him. Often enough the most proficient member isn't necessarily the most loved, which probably meant Holmes wasn't. If what they said at the Yard was correct, he was a loner. Either way, no one turned a blind eye to our entrance, too enthralled with their drinks to care.
Holmes lead me to a private booth at the back where we both took our seats and placed our orders. I could tell by the look on his face that Holmes wasn't too keen on this interview; the corners of his mouth turned down while his forehead creased in concentration. I myself was feeling apprehensive and yet thrilled to be here. I hardly noticed when our drinks arrived as I was to busy observing and sorting the people surrounding us.
"Looking for faces, Doctor?" he asked over the rim of his glass.
"It's fascinating, really. Can you tell me about this place? These people? Do you frequent this particular bar often?"
Holmes chuckled. "I'm afraid the people here are no more interesting than those you find on the Strand. Your implications are, of course, not ill founded though I'm going to have to say that no, this isn't common grounds for men of my field. This happens to be a small enough place where the alcohol speaks louder than words can be heard."
I took one sip of my whiskey and wiped my mouth over my sleeve. My mind was still racing in wonderment at this establishment which still held immense interest despite Holmes' indifference of the place. I was comfortable with our silence, but Holmes seemed eager to discuss.
"Did you know me as an avid drinker?"
"What? No, not particularly. A glass of brandy to still the nerves, wine with dinner, but nothing excessive."
"Well that's a good thing to hear," he was idly rocking the bottom of his half-emptied glass over the table. "You did mention cocaine, though, did you not?"
"It remains a constant companion in your darker hours." I sighed.
He spat at this. "If you were to say I favored drink a bit more than I do here, I would have believed you. But narcotics? That's absurd."
"You started with morphine,"
"Morphine! I do hope you at least tried to impede these vices of mine?"
"I did what I could; spoke to you both as your doctor and as your friend."
"And?"
"Alas! You listened to cocaine more ardently than you did to me."
He nodded and downed the rest of his drink. "When you get back, Doctor, do make an effort to rid me of those deplorable habits."
I looked at him with a mixed feeling of surprise and joy. I smiled, looking down at my glass. "I never gave up."
Now was his turn grace me with a confused look. "And how long have we known each other?"
"Six years," said I.
"Six years? Well, that is a while. Had we any other companions? Are any of the faces in this room familiar in that aspect?"
I looked round aimlessly. "I'm sorry to say that the company we share now isn't much different than how it was in my London. However," I now fixed him in my gaze. "You had a brother."
"Oh?" It was a weak, introspective reply, as though this was profound information to him. His eyes strayed from mine and focused on his fingernails. "Tell me about him."
"His name was Mycroft. I don't know too much about the man, actually; you two were the least communicative brother's I've ever had the fortune to meet. But you've admitted by your own lips that his mind was keener than yours, though through a lack of motivation, Mycroft lived a sedentary life instead of pursuing the career you chose."
"What did this brother of mine do?"
"I'm not entirely sure; his position in whatever he does is too confidential for my ears. I've been told that it was governmental work."
Holmes sniffed, refusing my eye contact. "If you don't know, and I didn't tell you, it leads me to believe this brother of mine probably lives a double life. Perhaps he was an alcoholic, an invert, or maybe he was the one pulling the strings of an unspoken family business."
"I hardly think that that's the case!" I said in the honorable Mycroft's defense. "The man has two destinations in his life, neither of which are criminal!"
"That may be, but you can't prove it, can you? No need to fret, Watson, it hardly effects us now, does it? I didn't think so."
I stuttered for a moment, trying to defend the dignity of my friend's family. "I've met the man myself, and I knew you quite intimately. Had your brother been an underground conductor of mischief, I think you would have had the confidence to discuss that particular detail with me. Anyhow, where is he now? Do you, here, have a brother?"
Holmes finally met my eyes yet his face was unreadable. It looked as though he were about to rebuke my question when I saw a small flicker of dread cross his features. He clamped his lips shut momentarily before hastily replying, "I don't have a brother. Perhaps if I did, I wouldn't be like this."
I was about to entreat him upon the matter when I was suddenly made aware of a new presence behind me. A gloved hand clamped down on my shoulder as our new guest put his lips to my ear. "You bar bodies are going to have to stop hampering this gentleman. He's not going to kill your wife for you." The voice was smooth and pleasant with a subtle scent of tobacco on his breath. I turned round to face this man and was met by a pair warm brown eyes. He smiled at me before turning to Holmes. "Would you like me to dismiss this hindrance?"
Holmes narrowed his gaze at the man, waving off his unwanted chivalry. "Let him be, D'Arville. This is Dr. Watson and he's with me."
The man named D'Arville looked between the two of us with a broad smile. "Is he now? Since when do you need a page boy?"
My companion's eye twitched as he scrutinized this cumbersome man. "I don't need anybody. However, it might interest you to know that this good friend of mine is the one responsible for last night's blunder."
D'Arville barked a laugh and slapped my shoulder. "Did you really, Dr. Watson? Hah! Finally, a man capable of foiling the Great Sherlock Holmes' plans!" Still giddy with excitement, he grabbed a chair and sat himself at our table. Turning to face me, he said, "I came here to berate dear Mr. Holmes on his inability to meet his half of the bargain, but you make things interesting. Tell me how you did it."
I looked to Holmes, not wanting to speak against him. He shook his head at me and restored his gaze to our new companion. "No need to answer that, dear fellow. Onto business now, D'Arville. I'd like to be rid of you as soon as humanly possible."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, Holmes." his voice took up a strictly business tone as I soon became invisible to his attentions. "I offered you my help on that little heist of yours a few moths back. You reaped your wealth, had your little spread in the paper, while I lost five of my men. Five men, Holmes."
The latter let out a bored sigh and responded flatly. "And that is the precise reason why I work alone. If you don't bother yourself employing constant variables in your plans, then there's no collateral. When I am in need of assistance I hire out; if they're unable to keep up, then of what loss is it to me? I don't have to worry about keeping everyone alive, dividing them up on a job based on who I like and who I wish to see survive. Really now, we don't need an army to take on a few petty risks."
D'Arville removed his hat revealing a head of thick dark locks through which we ran his fingers. "Unfortunately we can't all work like you, Holmes, but I would think you capable of seeing where I'm coming from. Either way, it doesn't change the fact that you came up short on your end of the bargain." He shot me a look before continuing. "Do you know what I was supposed to have this morning?" Holmes shook his head, his eyes heavily lidded with his hand covering his mouth. D'Arville continued. "I was supposed to have the deeds in Pelham's safe. I was supposed to have his estate, the remonstrants of his pathetic pleads, or else the severed hands of his new bride. Do you know how I was to find these things?" Holmes' head was bowed and I could have sworn he was at the brink of tears. D'Arville sensed this, placed his hands before my companion's in means of intimidation, and leaned forward. In a heavily laced voice, he said, "I expected you to hand them to me personally this morning. You've failed me, Holmes."
There was a dead silence between the two men and I thought perhaps D'Arville would lash out. But then I noticed Holmes' shoulders starting to shake before he threw back his head and broke out in a fit of laughter! I couldn't help but feel delighted at this as D'Arville jerked away from the hysterical man with the most remarkable look upon his face. Holmes' laugher finally began to subside as he ran a hand over one of his eyes.
"Dear me! You'll have to forgive my outburst, but... by George, I don't think I've ever had a more difficult time keeping my face!" He had another bout of fits before prodding forward. "I think- I think it extremely funny, my poor D'Arville, that you actually think you have a hand over me! Honestly, man, do you think you could inspire even the smallest bit of trepidation in me? Your threats mean nothing more to me than that of a traveling gypsy. Oh! as dense as you are, you really do humor me so. Come, my dear Doctor, we ought to have something better to spend our time on!"
I laughed at the flush of red over D'Arville's cheeks as he burned a murderous stare at Holmes. His lips were tremulous as he stood abruptly to protest and reassert himself, but it was too late. Holmes rose from his seat and motioned me to follow. I turned to D'Arville and, caught up in the moment, boldly stated, "Lay on, MacDuff." We left the sputtering man behind us and exited the establishment.
"Who was that delightful gentleman, Holmes?" I asked as we made our way through the busy street.
"A pest with an over inflated ego. His name is Geoffrey D'Arville, a silly little man who thinks crime is a simple job opportunity. Really, he has not even scratched the surface of what he's getting himself into."
"He seems to think he has you in his grasp."
Holmes shrugged. "I may be up top, Doctor, but I am not without my debts. But to D'Arville- peh! I could hardly bother myself with the likes of him. But I imagine we won't be seeing the last of that man; he's the type to think the world marvels at his intellect when in reality it just sighs."
"Why not simply rid yourself of the man?"
"I suppose because I'm hoping to stoke the flames of his capability. I shall continue to build him up and then I will proceed to destroy him."
I looked at Holmes incredulously. "You can't be serious?"
He smiled at my question. "Of course I'm not! If I allowed this man to boil in his own hatred, I'm afraid I'd create nothing more than a ruthless killer; much like how you assumed I was on our first meeting. Believe it or not, I don't smile on crime. I don't want to help others cause torment for, as I told you last night, it is through my own personal means that I thrive in the life I've created for myself. However, I have no inclination to stop them unless they should get in my way." There was a thoughtful pause, in which he suddenly decided to pick up our talk from before. "For what reason did I pursue crime in the first place?"
"Boredom, I suppose."
"Huh. But what of you?"
I laughed. "Holmes, I know you don't care about me and my life."
"Your assumptions have been sporadic and yet surprisingly accurate since my knowing you, however, I find this last one of yours extremely shallow."
"I was a general practitioner," I said. "I documented your cases and helped in making you famous. But on my own... well, I'm fairly unremarkable."
"You must have been something if I called you my friend."
"I suppose. Loyal, dependable, predictable..."
"You're making it difficult for me to discern the root of our apparent friendship."
I groaned at this. My friendship with Holmes was one of the few things in life I didn't have to think about; I didn't have to question it, ask myself why it existed nor how I maintained it. And here I was being asked to deconstruct it and find all the factual and logical points that made it up. I stopped walking and looked after Holmes. He came to a halt when I stopped following.
"Holmes," my chest felt tight for some odd reason. "You and I were friends, and I'm hoping that I can make it so now, but you're asking too much into it. I don't know why you tolerated my slower mind, but... oh, why must you question it?"
He rolled his eyes at my statement, yet his features softened to my discourse. "I am asking because I don't see how it's possible. If I am practically the same person now as I am there, then I cannot see why anyone, let alone someone like you, would ever tolerate me. Besides, when I meet a man who says he was my best friend, of course I'm going to be intrigued. I apologize if it comes off as crass, but I am merely curious."
I shook my head and trudged forward. "I feel like I haven't eaten in weeks. Might we please find some food?"
"Of course, mon ami."
