Prompt: Fireworks

From: Book girl fan

A/N: Been busy over the past few days, so pushing on to finish this! I'd like to thank everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and followed this story so far! You are amazing people!

...

The banks of the Thames were busier that one night than ever before.

Standing by the blackened depths of national pride, steely grey eyes observing the milling crowds and a powerful mind deducing those within a certain radius, stood the esteemed sleuth Sherlock Holmes. Next to him was his dear, erstwhile companion, Doctor John H. Watson, and his wife, Mrs Mary Watson (nee Morstan.)

"I still do not see why you dragged me out here," Holmes complained to his friends as he reached into his pocket for his pipe.

"Holmes, I wouldn't recommend it," Warned Watson. "And besides, Mycroft invited us." He reminded his friend.

"Bah! Mycroft would have done better not to," Holmes huffed. "But at least he invited you, Watson. And of course, yourself, Mrs. Watson." He added awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Mary smiled. "It was certainly unexpected." She admitted. "But from what I hear, Sherlock, it's going to be a most extraordinary display."

Holmes couldn't help but secretly admit that being at home was taking a toll on his genius; he had been on cocaine every night this week. But it had been a very bad comedown shortly before this evening that led him to seeking the Watsons' company.

...

"John, look at him, he's suffering! Please, couldn't you do something?" Mary asked desperately, as she helped her husband lay the still high sleuth on the sofa.

"He needs to drink plenty of water to replenish hydration, and he needs to sleep." Watson answered calmly. "Now, could you fetch me some rags and water please, love? I'm going to be here for a while."

Holmes lay sprawled out on the sofa, like a fish on a dry riverbank. Sweat flooded his brow and behind the sweat came the pounding causing him to curl into a foetal position.

"Holmes?" Watson queries, gently allowing a hand to run through his friend's hair to try and soothe him whilst he waited for Mary to return. "You'll be alright, old man. But until you've recovered, you are staying here with Mary and I."

Holmes blinked. He never felt so weak or pathetic before-he felt that something had gone wrong with the cocaine, for he had normally had smoother comedowns than this.

Suddenly, he gagged violently.

Watson's bellow for a bucket was grating to his still drubbing head, but he was secretly somewhat relieved as he became ill into it. Watson whispered soothing nothings whilst rubbing his best friend's back between the shoulder blades comfortingly.

He had stayed there for two- three days approximately.

...

Not only was this keeping him off the cocaine - for now, at least- Holmes felt he owed his two friends so much for taking care of him and allowing him to stay in their home for those three days even though he had brought that torture upon himself.

Why were they so compassionate even when he did not deserve it? What deed had he done to be held in such high regards by the kindest creatures he had ever encountered in the human species?

He was startled out of his thoughts when he felt someone giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He smiled gratefully at his faithful companion.

"Are you alright, Holmes? You looked a little lost in thought there."

"Merely pondering, my dear Watson." Holmes answered airily. Despite his tone, Watson did not fail to observe the warmth in his best friend's eyes.

...

The show started off with a bang. Flashes of dancing silvers, dazzling golds, calming blues, rich purples, fiery reds and enticing greens all flared across the sky in time to ear piercing shrieks and wailings loud enough to shame banshees out of their trade. Mary linked her arm through her husband's, and he in turn continued holding the sleuth's hand without even realising what he was doing.

The three watched the spectacle in silent awe, revelling in each other's company and allowing the smell of gunpowder to penetrate their noses.

Glowing embers slowly drifted down to the banks before expiring with an inaudible fizzle near the feet of the captivated spectators.

…..

After fifteen minutes, the sky and the river both fade from bright, wonderful colours to inky blackness, and the crowd departed for home.

Holmes, Watson and Mary wove through the crowds, and headed on to the Watsons' home, for they had arranged to allow Holmes to spend the night with them, rather than trek back to Baker Street and remain on his own, for Mrs Hudson was away for a few days.

"I enjoyed that,2 Said Mary.

"I did too, love." Watson replied.

"But the company was exceptionally delightful," Holmes finished, before a rare smile of warmth appeared on his face.

Watson and Mary beamed reciprocatively.