Crying
"Holmes!"
Where was he? Where could he have gone?
"Holmes! Sherlock Holmes! Answer me!"
He had looked everywhere. Nobody knew, not Mrs. Hudson, not Wiggins, not the tobacconist, not anybody.
"Holmes, for God's sake where are you?"
Only one place left to try. He turned in direction of Mycroft Holmes house and would have run right past the alley had he not tripped.
As he got to his feet, he saw him.
"Holmes!"
The man looked up. He ran up to him and gripped his shoulders.
"Oh thank god, I found you! Are you alright? You're drenched to the skin! Come on, Mrs. Hudson has got some hot supper ready. Lets go home."
"Watson."
He looked up, puzzled at the dead tone.
"Yes Holmes? What is the mat-?"
He stumbles back and looks at his friend, who is embracing him tightly.
"H-Holmes?!"
"Watson, I'm sorry. Oh, I'm so sorry."
"Sorry? For what, Holmes? Holmes? Are you- Are you crying?"