The Curious Case of Dr. Watson
by Lyrical Soul

Chapter Nine

"Watson?" I place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze lightly. "Oh, dear fellow, do not allow this to affect you so."

"Please, just go away," he says, moving his hands away from his face to motion toward the door.

"I would like nothing more than to flee your room with great haste, but… I cannot leave you in such a state." I move quickly from the bed, and pace around his room restlessly. "Heaven help me, I cannot."

"That is exactly why you should." His voice is firm. "It is too much to ask of anyone, let alone you."

I sigh. "Once again, you see, Watson, but you do not observe."

"There is no doubt in my mind that you will gladly expound on the salient points I have failed to observe."

Though I am certain he is being wry, I hear an undertone of resignation that disturbs me. It is not that I consider myself above emotions or emotional needs. I have found, even in my limited experience that such things often lead one down a path from which there is no return, so I do not allow myself to become a slave to my baser needs. Watson is quite aware of this, and does his best to ensure that he does not impose on my more reticent nature. It is an arrangement that has worked well for us, but now I find that I cannot keep him at arms length while he suffers so.

In all the years I have known him, Watson has been the strong, stalwart one in our partnership. Though somewhat stubborn, quick-tempered, and appallingly unobservant at times, he remains by my side through my successes and failures, my black moods, and fits of pique with hardly a thought. That he should be felled by such a trivial blow is beyond my comprehension, but it seems his reputation is important enough to him that he would even drop his façade of utter strength to appear vulnerable before me. As difficult as I find it, I must allow myself to set aside my aversion to the softer emotions so that I may set his mind at ease.

With a deep breath, I sit down next to him, and lean back against the headboard. "Watson..."

There is no response, save a slight sniffle.

"I do not know why you perceive it to be a bad idea that I should provide comfort for you, but perhaps this will soothe you somewhat." I put an arm around his broad shoulders and pull him toward me so that his head rests on my chest.

He stiffens immediately, and attempts to draw back. "Holmes!"

"Hush, dear Watson," I say quietly, pressing him back against me. "Allow yourself the comfort."

"Have you gone mad?" His voice is several octaves higher than normal, and again he tries to move away.

With a firm hold on his shoulder, I keep him in place against me. "Perhaps I have, Watson. Is it so terrible a thing for me to do this for you?"

"Yes!" He shifts restlessly. "This… is absurd. The best thing for you to do would be to distance yourself from me until this wretched affair is done. Your reputation-"

"Means nothing if you are not by my side." I pet him softly, moving my hand from his shoulder to his elbow, and up again, causing him to tense slightly. "You are surprised?"

"I do not know how to respond," he whispers. "Were you any other man, I would think you were toying with me, trying to drive me mad."

"I assure you, were I doing so, this would not be the method I would employ."

"Yes, I do recall the unexpected rearranging of my bedroom furniture rather vividly."

"One of my finer tricks, but hardly enough to drive you mad."

We are both silent for a period. He lies against me tensely, and I breathe in the somewhat comforting scent of him, and revel in the feel of his solid weight against me. Dear me, I could become addicted to such a thing rather easily. I continue my gentle stroking on his arm, grateful when he relaxes slightly.  

After several minutes, he sighs and pulls away slightly. "Is this the type of affection your mother bestowed on you at regular intervals?"

"Ah, I was wondering when you would remark on that. No, Watson, she did not embrace me thus, since her feelings for me were motherly in nature."

"And yours are not?"

"Correct." As if he could not tell.

"As if I were your brother, perhaps?"

The feigned innocence of the question confirms my suspicions, but I do not let on. "Oh, goodness no. Can you imagine Mycroft doing such a thing?"

"Well, no, but he is rather fond of you…"

"As I am of him, but I have never felt compelled to comfort him in such a manner. No, Watson, definitely not feelings of a brotherly nature."

"I see." He pauses for a moment, then presses on. "Do you feel pity for me?"

"No." I do not want to explain, but as is his habit, he will question me to the grave if I do not answer. "Since the onset of this case, I have been warring with my deep feelings for you, Watson. I do not like that my judgment is clouded by emotion where you are concerned, but I find that I am not content to let things lie as they are. Your honour is mine, and if something causes you distress, then it does, by association, cause me the same distress. I do not know when such notions took hold in my being, but they are there, and I find that it is insanity to try to ignore them. And..." I clear my throat. "I find that I like having you pressed against me thus. It is rather... pleasing."

He pushes out of my embrace, and stares at me as if I've sprouted wings. "Is that your way of saying you have feelings of a… dear me, Holmes! You… and I, and the love that dare not…? Surely you jest."

"Again, I assure you, there are better ways in which to jest with you. I am quite serious." Uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze, and by my own uncharacteristic declaration, I move off the bed and over to his chest of drawers. "I do hope you have a cigarette of some sort in here, Watson. This is driving me mad."

"Driving you mad?" He leans over and lights the candle at his bedside. "You cannot express such… feelings, and ask for a cigarette in the next breath, Holmes!"

"That is what I have done, Watson. To expound further would prove difficult for me, so I expect you to use every ounce of your romantic nature to spin the remainder of the tale. I have had my say."

Knowing me as well as he does, he realizes that the little I have said speaks volumes. With a wearied glance at me, he motions to his chest of drawers. "Third drawer, peppermint tin."

"As I suspected." I find the cigarette case, and take out a cigarette. "Matches?"

"Top drawer, left side."

"Such subterfuge, Watson! Both Mrs. Hudson and I are aware that you sometimes smoke in your bed. She despairs of breaking you of the habit, and I fervently hope that you do not set the bed afire." I light the cigarette, and take a long draw on it. "So…" I blow a plume of smoke in his direction… "Knowing you as well as I do, I presume you do not believe it possible that I could actually love, let alone love you."

"What I believe is that I am dreaming, and should wake up soon."

I relish the fact that I can befuddle him so, and settle myself back on his bed. "Shall I pinch you?"

He gives a somewhat shrill laugh. "I think I shall end up in Bedlam!"

The poor man is bordering on hysteria again. "Do calm yourself, Watson. Perhaps you would like a biscuit? I'm certain Mrs. Hudson has put a few with your dinner to cheer you."

He casts a scornful glance at the dinner tray, then back at me. "I am nearing insanity, and you offer me a biscuit? Now, surely I'm either dreaming or in the grip of some evil malady." Again, his head goes into his hands. "It is too much."

I place a careful hand on his knee. "What is it, Watson? Tell me."

"You are undoing me, Holmes. Even though you couch your words in logic and as little sentimentalism as possible, I find myself intrigued by the possibility that I am not headed for insanity, and that you are indeed serious. And it frightens me."

"That will not do, Watson. Not at all. I did not reveal my innermost feelings to illicit a response of fear."

"Far be it from me to veer off the course you've set." His hands move away from his face, and he looks around. "Damn."

"Here, have mine." I hold my handkerchief out to him, which he accepts with a grateful look. "You are positively mordant this evening, Watson. Tell me… what is it you fear that makes you shy away from me, from this?"

He wipes at his eyes and nose. "The very nature of… this makes me uncomfortable."

"Ah, so it is that you do not share my feelings." I had not prepared myself for rejection; Watson's habit is to follow where I lead. "I have made a grave error." I shift away from him, and make to rise from the bed. "Please pardon me, dear fellow, we will speak no more of this then."

"Holmes." A brief touch of his hand on my elbow stops me from leaving the bed. "For one of the foremost minds of our generation, you can be incredibly dense at times," he says sharply. "I am merely saying that perhaps it is not… wise for us, for this to come out now."

"Well, it's not as if more damage can be done to your reputation. Why should you hesitate to add 'the love that dare not speak its name' to the pyre?"

"You ass!" His eyes are ablaze with indignation. "Perhaps you should go back to your room before I find it in my best interest to thrash you."

Damn, but I have gone too far. "I apologize, Watson," I say contritely. "That was rather untoward. I fear that all this talk of  love and deep affection has unhinged me. And I freely admit that I am rather rusty at providing affection."  

He does not respond, but lies back on the bed, and crosses his arms over his face.

 
Chapter Ten