Chapter Four.

Daylight seeped its way into the dim sitting room of 221B Baker Street and trickled over the sleeping face of Sherlock Holmes. Blinking a few times, his eyes opened and he groaned as he realised he had fallen asleep in his chair and his neck would now only move a quarter of an inch either way. He struggled to his feet and attempted to stretch out his six foot frame. Opening the living room door he leaned over the banister and shouted down to Mrs. Hudson who was pottering about beneath.

"Can I have some coffee please Mrs. Hudson?"

The landlady jumped slightly at the sound of his voice and turned to look up at him.

"Certainly Mr. Holmes."

Holmes nodded in thanks, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand in an attempt to restore the feeling, as he was turning to go she stopped him with a high pitched shout.

"Dr. Watson come home last night did he?" She asked with a slight hint of accusation in her voice. Holmes closed his eyes in frustration. Damn the woman.

"He did."

Again he turned to go and again she stopped him.

"Just, he didn't sleep in his own bed last night is all."

"No, that is because he slept in mine, he was a bit worse for wear last night and I thought it safer to deposit him in my bed than attempt to get him up the stairs." He was almost shouting now. She stared up at him in silence before nodding.

"While you're at it you may as well bring Watson some coffee – STRONG!"

He bellowed down the stairs hoping his voice had startled Mrs. Hudson out of any more questions and roused Watson out of his alcohol induced stupor. He heard a bang next door and he smiled. Going back into the living room he shut the door behind him and waited for Watson to appear. He did not have to wait long. The door between Holmes' bedroom and the living room opened slowly and creeping out into the sunlight was a rather dishevelled looking Watson.

"What time is it?" he murmured as he took a seat by the newly stoked fire. Holmes paused in this activity and looked at his flat mate.

"8.30 Tuesday morning."

"What day was it when I was last conscious?" Watson asked rubbing his head and closing his eyes. Holmes sighed; he was very tempted to say Saturday but restrained himself.

"Watson for goodness sake when is this going to end?"

Watson looked up at him with the eyes of a man in a dilemma.

"I know, I'll end it I promise."

"Good."

Before either could say anything more Mrs. Hudson came in with the coffee and silence resumed. Holmes sat smoking his morning pipe, watching Watson silently drink his coffee and stare into the fire. He wasn't sure what but something had changed in their relationship during that brief conversation. He had never felt sympathy for another human being in his life but whatever this woman was to Watson it was clear that leaving her was going to be easier said than done and for the first time he could ever remember, Holmes felt remorse for another person. Who was this John Watson? And why should he make Holmes feel for him? Holmes watched the smoke curl up from his cigarette and shuddered at the thought of being tied to this man…

God! It's been AGES since I updated any of my stories!! Hopefully that will change now I'm unemployed! *sob* Anyway reviews always welcome if you can remember waht's going on! :D