To Return From Death

by KnightFury

Holmes may not know it just yet, but he is fast approaching the end of his hiatus. All he wants now is to be reunited with his Boswell and walk the beloved streets of his London, but he has his fears and doubts - London may have changed dramatically and Watson may not want to forgive him. Chapter 10 revised 15-09-14 as I have never much liked it. Rated T for drug usage.

2. Homeward Bound

Homeward Bound

I am far from comfortable. The water of the English Channel has been rough since I boarded this miserable vessel and I am suffering a seasickness of the kind that I have not suffered in an age. It is not helped by the temperatures; the crossing is always frightfully cold at this time of year and I am not travelling first class. Perhaps I should be grateful that I could afford not to travel third class, however; that would mean hot, cramped and crowded conditions, with no privacy, paired with the noise of the engines. Surely it is better to freeze than to suffer that.

When I no longer feel as if I may disgrace myself by vomiting at any moment, I follow the advice that Watson would give to me and make my way out onto the deck. I sit down at the front of the vessel and try to relax. I am beginning to think that I might feel just as sick even if the water were calm, for I am in far too agitated a state to feel well, I fear. I have never known that a fellow could feel so many different and conflicting emotions! I am both excited and fearful to be returning to London, filled with delight and apprehension at the thought of seeing Watson again.

Will Watson be pleased to see me? Will he greet me with open arms and a cry of joy, or with anger or even hatred? I begin to run through his many possible reactions in my mind and attempt to find the correct words to say.

How I wish I had thought to write him a note to read! I do not trust my pride or my tongue. If my friend were to throw me out, I might say some dreadful things in the heat of the moment. On the other hand, should the fellow be forgiving and welcome me back as if nothing had happened, I doubt that I shall ever find it within myself to tell him how I have missed him. I am not known for my shows of affection.

I finally leave the vessel to board a train, still feeling horribly sick and confused. I shall somehow have to clear my head before I face my foe, or he may yet kill me after all of my precautions.

What am I to do first when I eventually reach London? To freshen up and make some form of plan is the obvious answer. To drink a good cup of English tea to settle my nerves is another, for my mind is a whirl of fears, doubts and anticipation.

This can only mean one thing. My first port of call shall have to be my only safe haven. I must return home to Baker Street.