As Things Should Be
The day has finally arrived. I have not slept a wink what with my anticipation and I cannot help but wonder whether my Boswell feels the same way.
My nervous stomach is somewhat queasy and I take an apple from the fruit dish on the sideboard, hoping that a bite or two of the fruit might help. I hardly want my friend of old's first observation upon seeing me to be that I look unwell. Having had two or three bites, I find that I feel a little better and set the remainder aside. I shall be all right once Watson arrives.
My companion does not arrive before lunch time, as previously arranged. I pace restlessly and snarl at Mrs. Hudson in what I must confess is bordering anxiety when she enquires when I should like my luncheon. I am not hungry! Where the deuce is Watson? Could he be hurt? Has that dreadful cold that he caught soon after my return decided to have one more fling? Why is he so late?
When at last the doctor does arrive, it is almost tea time. I see at once that his old wounds are troubling him, for his arm is stiff and he is limping, and he is quite fagged and pale.
"I am sorry that I am so late Holmes. One of my patients called me out early this morning..."
"And another - a patient suffering with anxiety, amongst other things - called on you before you could get away and you spent rather a long time soothing his nerves."
My friend's face expresses his surprise and I chuckle quietly to myself.
My amusement does not last for long. Watson has a great many boxes and chests, many of which are much too heavy for him to manage (which more than likely explains the pain that he is in). I struggle to lift his first chest and gasp as my arms and shoulders protest.
"This thing is ridiculously heavy!" I complain as I attempt to climb the stairs while my vision is obscured. "What the deuce have you got in here Watson?"
The fellow chuckles. "You volunteered to carry it old fellow. As for what it contains... Only my medical journals and a monograph or two."
"You must have an entire forest in here!" I do not really mind - an aching back is a small price to pay for having my friend of old moving in with me once more and I could hardly stand by and permit him to struggle with his heavier possessions.
This time the doctor laughs out loud and I smile to myself. It is good to hear him laugh.
My companion is attempting to lift another chest - this one meant for clothes - when I come back down. How I wish that he would not exert himself so!
"Watson! I told you to leave the heavier boxes. You look quite done up - at what time were you called out this morning?"
"Early," he confesses. "But I am all right Holmes."
My eyes begin to appraise his appearance before I can stop them.
"I am all right," he repeats somewhat forcefully.
I nod and leap the last three stairs (and a stack of boxes) to approach his side and touch his arm. "Forgive me old fellow."
"If you are not going to permit me to manage my luggage alone, at least allow me to assist you with the heavier boxes," he insists, his temper calming, as he takes one of the handles of the chest that he had been attempting to struggle with.
"Very well old fellow."
I must confess that I am in fact grateful to him, for this chest is even heavier than the last. It turns out to contain copies of the Strand, along with old and new journals and one or two sketchbooks. The fact that this chest is heavier speaks volumes, but I pass no remark.
His bookshelf and desk come next and I set the boxes down in our sitting room. They can be assembled when we have eaten.
"I am glad that I insisted that you keep my old cane sofa and chairs," Watson remarks. "They are not heavy, but that would be even more furniture to assemble."
He is becoming increasingly weary and that is not surprising. "Leave the rest to me old fellow - you have had a long day as it is and I can manage." I wisely choose not to mention that he has been unwell lately and instead descend the stairs to the remaining pile of my friend's belongings in the hall.
I carry Watson's chest of clothes upstairs - both flights - next and then he insists on helping me with the boxes of those items that he could not part with (I ensure that I take the larger and heavier ones, though most of them are quite light).
I do not ask what he has kept and I resist the temptation to have a quick look at the contents. My friend will tell me if he wishes to - I must behave myself.
When the hall is at last clear Watson rings for tea and I settle myself in my chair beside the hearth. How I have longed for this day to come! It is so good to have him here with me - permanently - once more.
"Welcome home Doctor Watson," says Mrs. Hudson as she deposits the tea things on our sideboard. "It is nice to have you back."
My companion of old smiles warmly at her. "It is nice to be back. Thank you."
Before he can reach the sideboard I am there already. Hastily I pour the tea and hand the fellow his cup and saucer. "Welcome back my dear fellow."
He gives me a small smile and takes to his chair. "Thank you Holmes."
I allow him to drink his tea in silence but do not permit him to dwell too much upon the past. I know that his mind is going to keep turning to Mary, the miracle denied him.
When he shows signs of becoming morose I retrieve my violin and play his very favourite pieces, watching as my friend's shoulders gradually relax. I dearly wish that I could do more.
The doctor needs time and support to heal, but that is the very reason that made me want him here as badly as I do. It might be considered wrong to want him here for my own selfish reasons, such as my loneliness, but it surely cannot be wrong to want to care for the fellow now that his wife is not here to do so. I know as well as anyone that Mary took very good care of my dear Boswell.
I continue to play until dinner time, hoping all the while to convey something of the sentiments that I am unable to voice. I hope that the dear chap at least knows that I mean to be a better man - and a better friend - than I ever was before.
He deserves a better friend than I, but if I am all that he wants I shall remain close to his side. I could never leave him alone again, for this is how life is meant to be; all is right in the world when my Watson and I are united.