Chapter 13
Watson didn't stop as he threw the front door open and took to the stairs two at a time as fast as his leg would allow him before throwing the bedroom door open. His heart dropped as he took in the mess around him or the lack thereof. The room was clean, neat and tidy and in the middle laid Holmes, his face contorted in pain as he shivered.
"Holmes!" Watson cried, his feet moving till he was crouched next to the detective; his hands and eyes moving quickly and expertly to see if there were any other signs of damage.
Holmes looked up bleary eyed and smiled lazily at Watson, his mind foggy from the drugs still in his system. "John, you're here... no you are my imagination formed of want." he whispered in a laugh.
"Yes old boy, what have you done to yourself?" Watson replies as he hoisted Sherlock to his feet with a grunt and led him to the bed.
"I made them go away…" Holmes laughed as he fell back onto the bed, pulling Watson on top of him.
Watson didn't move as he collapsed on top of Holmes, afraid what would happen if he were to do so… but the reality of it was; he didn't want to move from this position. "Made who go away?" Watson asked carefully, curiously.
"The emotions I was feeling, I made them leave. I couldn't tell the real Watson I cared for him deeply; I just couldn't do that to him and risk our friendship you see." Holmes laughed once more and Watson gasped in surprise.
He had remembered in his morphine haze that he admitted he cared about Holmes to him, not realizing the words he spoke till they were said. Now every action he had done and paired it with Holmes's he realised that he had hurt the man under him. The beautiful crazy man who had cared about him too and gave up his own happiness for him to have a life with Mary, it made sense now and the guilt clutched at his heart.