Prompt: On Montague Street (Domina Temporis)
"Watson," I said and stood as he stepped away from the table, and I crossed the little parlour of our hotel room after him.
It was not difficult to perceive what was troubling him.
He stopped, but did not face me. "My apologies, Holmes. I regret that I cannot be of more use to you."
I could see the shame in the slope of his shoulders, and I reached out in an attempt to smooth it away. "You have been more than 'of use' to me." I could not keep a derisive humour from my voice at his choice of phrasing. "You do not know how I lived in my days on Montague street before I met you, or with Mycroft before that. I knew the ways of humanity and lived in its midst, but could not count myself among you out of pride and guilt."
At that he turned, but my hand did not leave his shoulder. "Holmes, I…"
I silenced him with a gesture. "That was unfair of me, Watson. I know that is not truly what you meant, but tell me, Watson, is this how you have always felt, and I merely failed to observe it?"
He hesitated, his bright eyes downcast. "I have always preferred to follow in your investigations than endeavour to emulate your work on my own." He finally looked up, meeting my gaze with the steadiness I have been fortunate to come to know so well. "And you know I have had no greater pleasure than to accompany you. It is only that I have been feeling my years more keenly of late and wondering if my health is not now fading for good."
"I am also not so young any more, but I should hope that we both have a few years left in us."
I saw an answering twitch of his moustache which failed to entirely conceal a smile.