Prompt: a cottage near the water, from goodpenmanship

A/N: I apologize that the cottage doesn't actually show up in this story...this ran away with me


Though it had been a mere five years since I had left London for my return to army service, it felt like a lifetime had passed when it at last came time to return. In those five years, I felt as if I had lived several lifetimes, for I do not believe I shall ever understand the carnage I witnessed, nor the point of it all.

My return had by now been delayed by several weeks, first by the need for doctors to remain past the day of armistice to see to those wounded that remained, then by the arrival of the dreadful Spanish flu. I had myself been laid up with the disease, further delaying my return to England, though I knew I was fortunate enough merely to survive.

Many younger and stronger men I knew and cared for had not. I knew of no reason why I should be left behind when so many had not. Neither did I know what I was to do with the time left to me, now that I had survived.

I therefore sat on the train back to London in a despondent mood. The war's anticlimactic end left many feeling this way, but I had little to look forward to even in comparison. I had sold my practice upon rejoining His Majesty's service, not knowing when or even if I should return, and now had nowhere to go. I knew my days of practicing medicine were behind me; the Great War was to be the last time I practiced my profession, an occasion of no little grief.

It is a daunting prospect to start over, even in retirement, and I had no set plans aside from a long visit to Holmes in Sussex Downs, which had been agreed upon since before my delays. This, at least, I anticipated joyfully. I hoped that while I recovered in Holmes's lovely little cottage by the sea I would be able to plan for the future, such as it would be. I had also missed his company during my long ordeal in France, and letters were a poor substitute, though he had corresponded more faithfully than I had ever known him to in our Baker Street Days.

But first, London. Aside from Holmes, I knew very few people anymore, having no family and few friends. In this respect, I was not so very different from the young veteran I had been nearly forty years before, returning from Afghanistan with my health ruined and my finances destroyed.

My health was again ruined, and I doubted that I would ever fully recover from the twin ravages of war and flu, but my finances were not so badly off this time. I should at least be able to retire, and though I would no longer practice medicine, I might still write of Holmes's past cases. At least, I thought, I could always depend upon that. Little had I known all those years ago that when I was introduced to the eccentric fellow conducting experiments in St. Bart's that he should become a lifelong friend that I might always count on.

The hubbub outside my compartment told me that we would soon reach our destination, that of Kings Cross station. Nearly the entire train was full of young soldiers returning home, no doubt to wives and sweethearts and parents who had been waiting these long years. I, on the other hand, had no one to return to. Holmes so disliked returning to London that I had not even raised the prospect of him meeting me, instead informing him of the return train and that I would buy myself a ticket to Sussex Downs on the very next train available. The long journey was taxing, and I did not relish having to do it over again, but I had few options available to me; certainly a hotel was out of the question financially.

I stepped off the train after allowing nearly everyone else to do so first. This was not mere courtesy; after the war, my heaviest walking stick was now a constant necessity and I feared that the excited crowds would lead to a fall. My new, slower pace was better suited to allowing others to go first, something I would surely have to get used to after my adventurous life.

To my astonishment, when I stepped off the train and gathered myself, I recognized a tall, thin figure standing by a pillar, watching the opposite end of the very train I had just exited. I am no master of observation, but after so many years I knew Holmes, quite literally, by the back of his head. He obviously thought I was still making my way from the other end of the train and had not turned my way. I smiled, sure that for once I should get the better of him.

I quietly crept up behind him, no mean feat, and cleared my throat. "You have been in Sussex Downs, I presume."

Holmes whirled around, and I noted with delight that I had indeed succeeded in surprising him, for one of the only times I can remember. "Watson!" he cried, taking in my unhealthy appearance, which he was tactful enough not to mention, though I noticed his concern before he hastily covered it up. "You have managed to surprise me."

"With so many people about, I am sure you can be excused," I said. "I did not expect you to meet me."

"I thought it might be of assistance if I purchased our return tickets to Sussex," Holmes said, holding up two tickets for the next train. "I do hope I was correct."

"You were, entirely," I said, the relief in my voice obvious. I had been dreading having to wait in a queue to purchase a ticket and then find my way to the platform; the removal of even one step was most welcome. "Thank you, my dear Holmes."

"Think nothing of it," Holmes said, and here he clasped my hand in both of his. "Welcome home, my dear Watson. I am very glad to see you."

"As am I," I said. "Truly, it is the best thing I could have hoped for, that you are here to meet me."

Holmes merely smiled and took my bag, leading the way to the next platform, though he soon had to stop and wait for me to catch up. I smiled ruefully. "You were always five steps ahead of me in intellect, now you shall be five literal steps ahead of me."

"Nonsense," Holmes said, waiting for me so that I could link my arm with his. "I have prepared your bedroom for you," he continued as we found the correct platform and boarded our train. "The bees have been set to winter already, though it has not snowed yet. In fact, little has changed in Sussex since you have left."

"And yet everything has changed," I said in an undertone, before forcing myself to remain in the present. "Thank you, my dear fellow, for the invitation. I had few other options and I know I shall enjoy the visit. Though I hope not to trespass on your hospitality for too long."

Holmes waved a hand, looking incredulous. "Watson, you have had an invitation since I retired from London. You have never needed to do more than ask."

"Still, I shall have to find a living situation soon," I said.

"Perhaps you should find a fellow lodger?" Holmes asked lightly, with a familiar glint in his eye.

I stared at him. "You cannot mean what I think?"

Holmes shrugged. "Why not? You and I are accustomed to one another and you have no attachment to London. If you no longer intend to practice medicine I see no reason why you should not join me in my retirement."

I barely had to consider his offer. My financial situation was not so good that it would not be helped by sharing rooms, and I knew my recovery would benefit from having someone else nearby. Better that person should be a friend, especially one who knew me so well. Furthermore, the location could not be better. Holmes's cottage sat in a beautiful spot, within walking distance of cliffs with a magnificent view of the sea, though near enough to town that we might cultivate relationships with our neighbors. It was with a lighter heart than I had had in five years that I gratefully accepted. "Holmes, I should like nothing better. Thank you, my dear friend."

Holmes shook his head. "It is I who should be thanking you."

"For what?"

"For coming back."