In the Heart

If our positions were reversed I would consider it no favour to be kept in the dark.

1904

I arrived back at the flat and slowly climbed the stairs.

Holmes greeted me casually, though i could see he was intensely interested in what had taken up my afternoon. I had informed him that I would be home before four. It was nearly eight as I walked in. "There's tea, but it is cold. I did ask Mrs Hudson to hold supper until you arrived, though I am sure that is cold now as well." He stood up and ran his eyes over me, inspecting, deducing. Perhaps years ago this would have felt somewhat invasive, but with time grew understanding. I have learned to appreciate the scrutiny of Holmes interest, and may it never cease.

What would he deduce? A walk at Hyde Park. There was little else to see, for there was little else that I had done.

"We need to talk." I said softly.

No one ever reacts well to being told such. No one ever says 'we need to talk' without having something dire to report. I was going about this all wrong even after spending most of the afternoon contemplating various ways in which to do this. Sadly, there are certain types of news that are simply impossible to deliver in a good way.

Holmes narrowed his eyes, and his lips pressed together into a thin line. He stood and began to pace the length of the room.

"Please sit down, it is not what you are thinking."

"Oh? Then tell me, what am I thinking?"

"You are thinking something horrible has happened. You are constantly insisting that one cannot make bricks without clay, and yet, you are coming up with possible scenarios nonetheless. How many so far?"

He smiled, but only slightly. "I do not wish to count them."

"Fair enough." I smiled back, and I sat down and waited for him to join me.

"And so you assure me they are all incorrect?" He asked.

"I can't read your mind of course, nor would I wish to. In any case, nothing horrible has befallen us today." I assured him.

"Today. Another day then? You told me you went for lunch with Dr Anstruther." Sherlock said softly.

"I met with him, yes. But we did not lunch together."

"Walking in Hyde Park." Holmes supplied and I nodded. "Are you considering returning to practice?"

"No." I assured him. It was a reasonable allegation. I was still of working age, and our cases had recently taken Holmes out of the country for weeks at a time, leaving me in London alone and with little to do. I spent the time writing. I had at least endeavoured to make the solitude useful if not pleasant. The delay in declaring my news felt melodramatic to me, but each time I took a breath to continue, the words would not come.

Holmes stood up and paced. "Then what? You are planning something, something distasteful to you, and obviously you assume it will be just as distasteful to myself as well because you are worried about my reaction."

He stopped and looked at me closely. "You've been acting different. I did notice. You're entire manner has been different for the past couple weeks since I returned from France." He studied me closely for a moment and then turned again to pace. "How exactly have you been acting different? You have had several professional appointments to attend to, but today is the longest you've been away since I returned. You say nothing has happened today, and so I am left to contemplate, when did it happen? While I was away obviously. You are not injured. There are no lawsuits or blackmailers hounding you. But, there is something you worry will make me angry and hence you are postponing the revelation as long as possible."

He narrowed his eyes.

"In our discussions you've been overly nostalgic over past adventures. You have been writing countless letters and going through old notes. Your desk has been overly organised in a way you often do before a long journey. You are getting ready for something." He glanced over at my desk, indicating the obvious piece of evidence he was referring to. "Preparations. You are planning on leaving." He accused. "On a trip or moving away from Baker street? When shall this happen then? Or should I simply return one day and find you missing?"

How close to the truth he was! I had listened, as wrapped up in his deductions as he was. As usual he was correct on all points. I had been making many appointments, meeting with solicitors and my editor, writing notes to old friends, and organizing my desk.

At this point a headache started pounding behind my eyes and I wanted to never have started this conversation to begin with. I should have just left it alone, what was I thinking to even consider telling him? What good would it do? But, I knew that my silence was akin a lie and the longer I held onto it the more difficult it would become. The truth would out sooner or later and when that time came I did not wish to suffer with regret and recriminations. If our positions were reversed I would consider it no favour to be kept in the dark.

"Holmes," I began, but he did not allow me to continue.

Holmes had already drawn his own conclusions.

"This is ridiculous. What have I done to drive you away this time? It is because of the time I have spent abroad? Must I remind you that it was you who refused the invitation to accompany me?" Sherlock face was like stone, and if I did not know him so well I would have seen only the anger and not the hurt below the surface. As difficult as it was for me to give voice to my problems, it was worse to see my friend suffer such a state of agitation because of it.

I rubbed at my eyes. This could not have gone worse. "No. You've done nothing."

"That is exactly what you said when you ran off to be married. Well it isn't marriage this time, I would have seen the signs of a Watson besotted by the fairer sex. What then? Are you bored? Are there new adventures to be had elsewhere? Have you found a new subject to write overly dramatic stories about?"

"No. I am exactly where I prefer to be. As you said, I have a penchant for being overly dramatic. I spent the afternoon planning out what to say and now I can't remember any of it. Truly, I am not leaving, I am not travelling, there is no woman for me to marry, I am not bored, I am planning no adventures elsewhere, and the only writing I am doing is my own journalling. As you are aware, I've been feeling tired lately. That was why I declined your invitation to go with you to France."

"You are having trouble sleeping?" Holmes asked.

"No. You know I sleep fine these days." I answered. "I've been having some issues."

"Watson, what are you failing at telling me?"

"I've been having some issues with my heart." I said finally. "It is a common condition for men our age."

"Your heart?" He watched me closely and I saw the transformation take place the moment he absorbed the implications. "It is common for men our age die of heart attacks. How serious is it?"

"It can be heard with a stethoscope." I watched as Holmes naturally glanced around the room for such a device. I nodded to him and he pulled out the one I carry in my medical bag. Without a word I obediently opened my shirt and placed the end against my chest where I knew he would hear it. He listened very closely. "There was a mild attack. The -"

"When? Why did you not say?"

"I didn't want to say anything without an official diagnosis." I shifted and could not meet Sherlock's intense gaze.

"It happened while I was in France, didn't it? Why did you not send a message? I would have come home immediately."

"The case-"

"Damn the case. Certainly you know there isn't anything I wouldn't do-"

"Exactly, Holmes. Do what? There was nothing for you to do. I rested on the couch while Mrs Hudson brought me meals. And before you ask, no, she does not know. I told her my leg was giving me troubles. Had I called you home you would have been bored to distraction."

"You could have died."

"I didn't."

"But you think you are going to."

"I am already two years older than my father was when he died. Everyone dies sooner or later, Holmes."

"I will only accept later." Holmes reached out and took my hand. "Tell me what happened?"

"While I was out on some errands I had a pain in my shoulder. But there is always pain in my shoulder, and so I saw nothing unusual about that. However, after climbing the stairs the pain suddenly worsened and that was when I realized what was happening. So, I took a nap."

"You thought you were dying and so you took a nap?" He asked incredulously.

Holmes jumped up and searched the room with his gaze. "You experienced obvious symptoms of a heart attack. Mrs Hudson could not have been home, if she were, you would have done something to draw her attention. I can not accept that you would simply lie down and nap knowing you might never wake up."

"Holmes-"

"You thought you were dying." He pointed at me briefly. "You would never just lay down to die, I know you too well. You thought you had a small amount of time left, so what did you do? You wrote me a letter." Sherlock narrowed his eyes and I could not help but the reaction of surprise widening my own.

"More of a note, actually."

"And when you woke up, not dead after all, you placed it somewhere knowing that at any time a repeat of the incident could happen with more dire results. You put it where you knew i would find it."

Sherlock moved quickly to my desk, I didn't bother to stop him. He would find the letter. One would think that I'd have taken the time to say the things I wanted to since his return from Paris. I hadn't.

He opened the drawer and held up an envelope with his name written neatly on the front. It was not sealed.

"May I?"

I laughed because the ridiculousness of him prying into my desk and then asking permission to do so. "You will be disappointed, it is unremarkable and very short. I will write something more interesting and add a mystery to entertain you."

"Do not joke about this." He pulled out the paper and unfolded it carefully. All too short. He read it slowly and his eyes lingered on the page.

"Your handwriting. Were you in much pain?"

I nodded. "Only the one time. i haven't felt like that since."

"What else did you do when you realised what was happening?" He asked.

"I drank a glass of brandy. You are correct, Mrs Hudson was not home, and I feared the exertion of seeking help would only hasten the condition."

"What do we do?"

"I am doing what I can Holmes."

Holmes replaced the letter into the envelope and tucked it back into my desk drawer before sitting in his chair near the fire. "Watson." He said gravely. "We need to talk."

"Yes, Holmes?"

"I have news of my own."

"Oh?" I asked.

"I have been meaning to tell you." He said. "The life of a consulting detective no longer holds the thrill it once did. I am retiring."

I laughed. "Since when?"

"I have been contemplating a change for quite sometime now."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Watson." He said seriously. "The stairs."

"What about the stairs?"

"The stairs could precipitate an attack."

I sighed patiently. "A great many things precipitate an attack. We don't need to rearrange our entire lives.""

"You will sleep in my bedroom."

"For God's sake, Holmes."

"We will switch. Officially."

"I am not taking your bedroom."

"And I will not have you climbing an extra length of stairs to go to yours. If you will not take my room, we will move. I've always wanted to own a cottage."

"You aren't serious. You can't give up your work." I protested further.

"I have always wanted to study bees and yet I've never had that time. How long do you suspect you have?""

"Don't be morbid."

"I'm not. Believe me, I take no pleasure from contemplating anything to do with numbering your days, but I need to know what you know. You wrote me a note and allowed me to read it in your presence; you are not counting on years. You have thought about it. What is your prognosis, Doctor?"

I continued. "If I were my own client, I would tell him to get his affairs in order. There are some who live for many years, and there are some who don't. I can predict nothing more accurately than that."

"I will keep bees and you will rest." Holmes repeated.