Fathers and sons (chapter 7)
Holmes was anxious to take Watson back to London, where he could had recovered from the ordeal in their safe house in Baker Street, but he was conscious he was not in condition to travel. The local doctor had offered to assist him in his own house but the detective did not trust him, so he insisted for him to be transferred to his uncle's home and for the doctor to stay with them, until they could finally clear his position. For once, he had reversed his position with Watson, for he didn't know all the details of the puzzle and, as a consequence, he could not have the complete picture of the story. Watson had been able to find him in no time and he was not surprised to see his uncle alive, he surely had discovered something important. Unfortunately, he had not been able to stay awake long enough to explain him: the wound in his shoulder was painful and it caused him a fever, so between the delirium and the heavy medication he had slept for almost three days before becoming aware of his surroundings. Holmes had been at his side constantly, helping him to drink when he asked for some water and succeeded also in feeding him a little. Watson was so groggy he did not fight him and accepted his help without complaints. He surely would had been embarrassed at the idea of being fed as a child and Holmes was not going to tell him. In fact, on Thursday, when he woke up rested and more alert, Holmes almost had to restrain him.
"Watson, I don't want to repeat myself. You're going to rest and stay in bed until the doctor says you're strong enough to leave this place and this village!"
"And I am telling you I am fine and I want to get up!"
Holmes watched as his friend struggled to sit up but with his shoulder and arm bandaged together he failed miserably. He fell back on the cushions with a moan.
"Holmes, would you help me, please?" he asked, his frustration of being in need of support evident in his tone.
"Watson, you're the most stubborn creature I have ever met! And you are an ugly patient too!" he stated. But he helped his friend to sit up and made sure he was comfortable.
"I feel better, thank you. I feel at least more human!" Watson explained. "When was the last time did you get some sleep?" he asked then, entering the doctor modality.
Holmes considered his sincere interest for his well being an improvement of his conditions and he was glad his friend was back. He had been scared to death the first night after his uncle's real death, the wound on his shoulder did not stop bleeding and the local doctor had a hard time to adjust it, and he lost a lot of blood from the other cuts on his arms and body. The doctor feared he could develop infections where the knife had done the worst damage to the muscle so he cleaned the areas with efficiency, causing Watson to cry out, and carefully stitched the other cuts, assuring they probably would not had left any scars on his skin. Holmes hold his breath and kept talking to his fallen friend, desperate to hear his voice again to be sure he was going to survive the ordeal, until he felt his cold hand flexing weakly in his strong one. His feelings for the other man where a mystery to himself too. He would had never thought to care for another living creature the way he cared for his Boswell, and he was actually the only one he cared about, except for his brother of course, but that was another story. And of course he would had never admit his real feelings in front of him.
"Holmes, did you understand my question?" Watson asked him again, waiting for an answer.
"A couple of days ago. Don't worry about it!" he said in a casual tone.
Watson made a face but said nothing. He thought he did not want to argue with the detective right now and he was so glad to be finally lucid to talk to him about his discoveries; Holmes too was anxious to know because he seemed uncomfortable and that meant he wanted to ask him but he did not know if it was the right time. The idea of Holmes getting nervous about someone else's feelings made him smile.
"Holmes, could you please look in the drawer of the night table? There should be an envelope with some articles inside you should read. I am sure you'll find them very interesting." He asked.
That was the signal the detective was waiting for, because he hurried to retrieve the envelop then sat back and started reading. Watson could almost hear his mind working and was extremely happy to see his friend back to his usual self.
The first article was an excerpt of the local gazette where both Watson's father and uncle lived and it said:
"Yesterday evening an accident occurred in the streets of our peaceful town. A carriage driven by B. Watson was turned over in the main street. Apparently, as B. Watson himself reported, the horses had been scared by some animal and they got wild, causing him to lose control; when one of the wheels hit a stone, the carriage turned over and crashed. The little boy inside it, Watson's nephew, was thrown outside and hit his head hard on the pavement. Despite the doctor, who had been called immediately, did his best to help him, he never regain consciousness. The official inquiry declared the driver not responsible for the child's death."
The second one reported the same facts, but added some details: it was mentioned that the child's father had tried to charge the driver, his own brother, with the accuse of homicide but the official inquiry had cleared his position.
Holmes, who had already been told this story, knew these memories were not pleasant for his friend.
"I am sorry you got caught in this revenge story, Watson." He simply said.
"I knew my father well enough to understand how painful this memory was to him. When a child dies, you always feel responsible, even if it's not your fault. And my uncle tormented him making him feel guilty for his loss. His wife died giving birth to his son and he was the only family he had left. He never forgave my father for his "Sin" because he had a wife, had a son and then, when I was born, he lost his mind completely. He left the town and never came back."
"Well, that's the reason why he tried to kill you: he wanted his personal revenge. I think we have cleared this point. He pretended to be dead so to make you come into his hunting ground. Winter helped him."
" No, I don't think Winter knew he was still alive. You said it yourself, he is unimpeachable. He simply is an unpleasant person. The only one person who knew was the doctor. You saw him, he was totally subdued by my uncle, he did what he told him to do, he stole the documents Winter gave me because my uncle ordered him to do it. I think he was the one who disanchored the book shelf from the wall in the library and who removed the signal outside the warehouse. He was used to attend the house so Wilson was not surprised to see him after the presumed death of my uncle. When his attempts failed, he drugged you and kidnapped you in order to have me."
"That makes sense. There's only one thing I can't explain: why the doctor should had agreed to help your uncle in his revenge plan?"
"I found a photograph of my uncle and the doctor in front of the doctor's house. When we met them at the village, I thought I had already seen him but I could not remember where or when. Then when I saw that photograph I understood. Do you remember I told you about a property that was excluded from the inheritance?"
Holmes nodded.
"Well, when you asked me I could not remember exactly the name of the property… but look at the writing behind the photo…"
Holmes did as instructed and repeat the words aloud "At the Mellow! Watson, Mellow is the name of the doctor's cottage!"
"Exactly! And I remembered a story my father told me when I was a child, the story of a doctor who had accidentally killed a patient because he did not know he was allergic to a medicine he gave him. Despite the inquiry after the man's death had cleared the doctor's position, for it was impossible for him to know about the allergy, his reputation had been destroyed and he had no other choice but going away. Guess where did he go?"
"Hawkesbury Upton!"
"The doctor and my uncle were close friends but when my uncle's wife died he put the blame on the doctor. However, when the doctor asked his help, he gave him a house and helped him to be part of the community but he had to pay a high price for this."
Their dialogue was interrupted by the doctor himself, who had silently entered the room. Watson inhaled sharply at his sight and instinctively searched for Holmes, who reassured him he was no more a threat to him. He relaxed a fraction but did not let go of Holmes' shirt.
"I understand you are afraid of me, doctor, but I am not going to hurt you. Not anymore. Not now that your uncle is dead. I stopped him when I thought you had suffered enough of his torture." The doctor said.
Watson could not believe his ears. Was this man really apologizing for what he made him going through? He felt his anger growing and he would had had launched onto him if he was in better shape. And he was so shocked he could not find words to express his disgust for his actions.
"Go away!" he hissed.
"I only want to help…"
"I said GO AWAY! LEAVE ME ALONE!" he shouted at him and he went out of the room. Watson slumped onto Holmes, panting. The detective gently hold him until he was calmer.
"Don't worry, I will take care of you. You're safe now!"
EPILOGUE
Watson and Holmes returned to London the following week, Watson had asked Winter to sell the house. He was very efficient.
The local doctor had been charged and arrested for having made an attempt to Watson's life.
Both men were glad to be back to their lives in London. Watson was still recovering from the ordeal but he was getting better and better day by day. With time, they both put this story behind their back.
I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS LAST CHAPTER, I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS STORY AND I APPRECIATE VERY MUCH ALL YOUR REVIEWS.
:)