Prompt: Bond, from Hades Lord of the Dead

A/N: Well, this got away from me. Holmes just kep rambling in my head and this happened.

"Drop the package, Mr. Holmes."

I am not usually taken by surprise, particularly not on an investigation, but even I am not infallible, and so Watson and I found ourselves cornered by the leader of a vicious London street gang that had been terrorizing the East End for months. Little had been done to stop them, as the police are not concerned about such things until they involve someone of note (someone who has money, generally) or the number of bodies means they cannot ignore it any longer.

I do not limit myself by class when choosing a case to take on, and this one had enough features of interest that I considered it well worth my while. That, and it had become impossible for my Irregulars to complete their duties as they were continually being threatened and chased by these thugs. Surely any organization that so threatens children would be worth the police's time to investigate, but I was unable to convince them to take an interest. Watson said I did rather obsess over the case so that Lestrade and the others must have grown tired of listening to me; perhaps as a way to gently remind me to use other methods of persuasion.

Well, I had listened. If I could not convince them, I would show them the evidence. Such a street gang must be funded from somewhere, and it is my opinion that many more crimes would be solved if investigators spent more time searching through financial records than creeping through alleys, though Watson is surely right again when he says that even I would not enjoy it so much if that was all I did.

So it was that Watson and I had ended up in this abandoned warehouse, in an area so renowned for crime that even several hardened criminals I had put away spoke of it with fear. I had diligently searched through the financials I could find for the known gang members, chasing leads until I discovered the underground opium network through which they were funded. Their suppliers, as I understood, spanned the world. This was far more than just a street gang terrorizing children, and once Lestrade knew of this, he would be glad enough that I had done most of the job for him! As I usually do, in any case. We were meant to intercept a shipment tonight, one that would be the string I could pull to unravel the entire operation. None of the leaders were meant to be here tonight.

Evidently, I had miscalculated somewhere. But where? I searched my brain-attic for any hole in my plan. "Holmes?" Watson's whispered voice echoed in my ear. "We are surrounded."

"I know!" I said. "I must have time to think." There was no escape we could reach, and Watson's revolver had a mere six shots before it would run out. I counted the men ranged against us. Seven, each with a revolver pointed at us and blocking our way in every direction. Blast!

"I said, drop it!"

I had been ignoring the lead fellow barking orders at me - such men are of little use and paying attention would only distract me - and I kept a tight hold on the package of opium I had intercepted. The packaging alone would yield countless clues to the supply organization, and no doubt inside was correspondence that would lead us to the masters of this crime ring. I could not let it go.

'

"Drop it, or he gets it." The lead fellow moved closer and trained his gun on Watson, who, bless him, raised his own revolver in response.

"You might be able to escape in the confusion," Watson said, pulling back the hammer. "Give me the word, Holmes."

I have never understood, until that moment, how one's mind might go blank. Mine certainly never had, but the instant there was a gun raised to Watson's head, all thoughts of escape and the threads of the investigation fell completely out of my thoughts.

"Alright," I said loudly, so they could not mistaken. "You have won this round." There would be another one, I was certain of that.

Of course I had no faith that they would actually let us go, even if I did what they wanted, and so I tossed the package into the air, grabbed Watson by the arm and ran as they scrambled to catch their precious quarry. In mere moments, we were down the street and far away from that dreadful warehouse. Already I was trying to determine where I had gone wrong and what I might do next, for surely I could not allow this gang to escape me. Yet they would not be fooled again if I tried to gather physical evidence. I should have to tread very carefully.

"Holmes! Holmes, we had them!" Watson stopped me once we were in an area of London in which we could stop without being set upon by thieves. "If you had allowed me to create a distraction-"

"You would have been shot instantly," I retorted as I hailed a hansom cab. "You cannot fight off seven men, Watson." Against two, or even three, my fellow-lodger would have likely held his own. But against seven, even together we would have been outmatched.

"It would have given you time to get the evidence to Lestrade," Watson said. "It was a risk I was willing to take."

"I was not!" I said, climbing into the first cab that stopped.

"No," Watson said. "You weren't, were you?" His voice was quiet, as if wondering why. I could say the same myself. Why had I been so unable to figure out a way out? It is not as if I have never been in such a dire situation before (Watson knows little of my early days as a consulting detective on Montague Street, where I was often alone against men far better trained than I). What was it that was so different about this time? I am not accustomed to my mind failing me in such a way. The more I thought it over, the more it seemed as if there must have been some way I simply failed to see. Yet the only thing I remembered was the sudden stab of fear as I saw a gun pointed at Watson's heart.

"We have both failed tonight," I said, perhaps more sharply than I intended. "Surely you could see that offering yourself up as a distraction was no better plan? Why would you even think of it?"

"That should be obvious," Watson said, bristling. "I hoped to give you time to escape with the evidence. You are the one who can bring a case to a close, I am merely your assistant."

"So you meant to sacrifice yourself in my stead? Assistant does not mean expendable, Watson!"

"Well, you are hardly one to talk!" Watson said. "You gave up the entire investigation the moment that fellow turned a gun on me! I have never seen you give up, Holmes, ever."

"I could not think with a gun trained on you!" I burst out. I do not know how I expected him to understand when I did not understand it myself. Only that I simply could not allow him to be shot.

I am unused to such emotional considerations. Emotion is a distraction, often responsible for irrational thinking and in my profession that is dangerous.

"Then you understand why I was about to fight off seven men to allow you to escape!" Watson said, just as forcefully.

Watson has a unique power to render me speechless. Of course it was the same. How the deuce did I not see it?

"You have a way of illuminating things when I cannot see clearly," I said. Until now, it was the reason I told myself I brought him along on cases as my assistant. Perhaps that was true in the beginning, but even I had to admit it was no longer.

Watson and I have been sharing rooms for some two years now, and I do not know how I was so fortunate to gain a fellow-lodger, no, a friend, who complements me so well. I had not believed such a person could exist, until I was proven wrong in the form of an army doctor who appears completely ordinary, but is in truth anything but. I have had few friends in my life and none so close. I am only being honest when I say that had Victor Trevor been with me in that warehouse, I might have allowed him to distract the criminals so I could escape with the evidence. Then again, he would not have offered as Watson had. Our friendship, I see now, was one of happenstance. Watson and I have a much stronger bond. Indeed, I was already considering my life decisions as if Watson would always be at my side. It seems he has been doing the same. It is something I did not expect ever to have for myself; something I was led to believe only existed in a marriage between a man and a woman.

Evidently, that is not true. I have never wanted such a partnership. I find no one desirable in the way one is expected to, and so had believed my life was destined to be a solitary one. It had never occurred to me that a partnership might take many forms, and the bond Watson and I share certainly appears to be one of them.

At least, I assume so. I do not know what else his willingness to die in my place might mean. I can think of precious few men who would do the same for their friends (I doubt very much my brother would do the same for me).

"Is explaining emotions part of my duties as conductor of light?" Watson asked. The smile he gave me told me he was no longer angry. I had often called him thus, referring to his ability to spark genius in others.

"The world of emotions is unfamiliar to me," I said in answer. "I have prided myself on my faculty for logic above all else."

"Friendship is hardly logical, Holmes," Watson said. "Particularly where you are concerned. You are devilishly hard to live with, you know."

This was said in such a mild tone - and was so very close to the truth - that I began to laugh. "No, I am fortunate," I said. "Surely any other man would have left Baker Street altogether, rather than befriending me."

Watson shrugged. "I would be dreadfully lonely, and considerably poorer, in every sense, had I not taken rooms with you."

He always knows how to phrase something so that it perfectly explains everything without my having to say a word. It is an ability I envy (I am rather verbose). "My dear Watson, so would I," I said.

Watson smiled somewhat shyly. "Until tonight, you know, I was unsure of something. You know that after my return from London when I was utterly alone you have become a very dear friend to me, in fact, quite the closest friend I believe I have ever had. I hardly imagined I should occupy the same position in your life. Knowing you as I do. Until I saw you give up that investigation when he threatened my life."

I suppose if this was to be a night of emotional confessions, I might as well contribute. At least then we shall not have to do this again. "Watson, as usual, you see but you do not observe," I said. "My regard for you should be obvious, as there has never been anyone else who has shared in as much of my life as you do. I do believe you now know me better than anyone else, and there are very few who know me at all. It goes without saying that your position in my life is exactly as you imagine it to be. In fact, I would be surprised if anyone else ever were to occupy that position."

That is especially true. While Watson has the gift of making easy friends, I do not. I do believe he is the closest friend I shall ever have, nor do I find that I want any other. Why should I? I can think of very few men I have any regard for whatsoever, and Watson is easily the best of them. Why he should be surprised by this, I cannot say. I ought to be the one surprised by his statement, for I know I am difficult even when at my best and when I am not…well, Watson has seen that too and still he is here.

Watson simply smiled at me and returned to looking out the window, now that we were passing well-lit streets away from the East End. "Rest assured, I am not giving up," I said finally. "I will bring down that gang before the year is out. I require only some good tobacco and my pipe to determine what I shall do next."