Another stone followed the first, and he took pleasure in seeing it drown beneath the choppy waves.
"I must caution you, Mr. Holmes. It has been my experience that many people cannot bear to see their loved ones so incapacitated, trying desperately to re-learn even the most basic functions of everyday life. No one will think less of you should you decide to remain away for the first stages of his recovery; it would be better to stay away than to remain and cause more problems than we are dealing with presently.
I would ask you to consider carefully – are you capable of standing what will come in the following weeks?"
This time it was a pile of russet-hued leaves that showered into a watery grave.
Was he capable of bearing that burden? And more importantly, would he be of any help, or would he just cause Watson more pain and embarrassment because of his impatience and utter inability to say or do the right thing when logic had fled the scene?
And, his brutally frank mind insisted upon bringing the matter up – and, once Watson discovered his condition was because of a deadly mistake on Holmes's part…would he even want him to remain?
He covered his face with one shaking hand as the sun turned the ocean into liquid bronze.
