Reunion
by Pandapony

Chapter Five

When I arrived, Mrs. Hudson greeted me warmly. I could hear voices upstairs – Holmes had visitors. My heart immediately sank in disappointment.

“Mr. Holmes mentioned yesterday there may be a possibility that you would come back to stay. Is it true, Doctor?” Mrs. Hudson asked enthusiastically.

“Did he discuss the matter at all this morning?” I inquired, wondering how he had reacted to my departure.

Mrs. Hudson shook her head as she helped me off with my coat. “Not a word, although he's been one of his black moods. I hope the inspector is bringing him a case to pull him out of it!”

I smiled at her, and took off my hat. “Well, Holmes was correct. I am interested in moving back in, assuming he'll have me.”

“Have you?” cried Mrs. Hudson, laughing. “Why, I am sure the news will turn his spirit quite round! I'm delighted to hear it!” she gave me a small hug, and then laughed again. “I will tend to your room immediately!”

I made my way slowly up the stairs towards the sitting room.

The door was slightly open. Inside I could see Holmes pacing by the fireplace, puffing away on his pipe. Inspector Gregson was sitting on the settee with a younger constable, explaining something to Holmes. I moved slightly in the door frame, hoping to catch Holmes' eye.

My movement caused him to immediately freeze. He stared wide-eyed at me for one moment.

I smiled, trying to show my acceptance, my love, my desire to be back with him as much as I could through a silent gesture in a half-closed doorway.

Holmes always understood me so well. His shoulders suddenly released their tension and dropped. His eyes sparkled.

“Dr. Watson!” He cried loudly, interrupting Gregson's speech. Both gentlemen looked up as I entered the room.

Holmes gestured dramatically to my old chair.

“Inspector Gregson, you remember my old colleague and friend, Dr. Watson?”

Both men stood, and I shook hands with Gregson.

“Good to see you again, sir,” said Gregson.

I nodded and then sat in my old chair. Every muscle in my body seemed to relax as I melted back into the familiar feel and bend of the wicker.

“Its good to be back,” said I. I caught a flicker of Holmes' eyes.

“Are you going to work with Mr. Holmes again, now that he is back?” Gregson asked.

I looked to Holmes. He looked back at me, his face showing his anxiety. I could see his desire, his ardent hope I would say yes. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed.

The joy in me bubbled, escaping in a giant grin that burst across my face. I couldn't help but look into Holmes' eyes as I answered the inspector.

“Yes,” said I. “I plan on moving back in and taking up position as Holmes' full-time biographer and assistant.”

“Ha!” Holmes shouted, clapping his hands together and smiling. He rushed over and squeezed my shoulder affectionately, before sitting down in his own wicker chair, across from mine. With one last smile in my direction, he gestured to Gregson.

“Now, inspector, please continue your remarkable tale. And perhaps you could be so kind as to explain once more the unique circumstances surrounding the duke's death, for my dear Watson's benefit?”

I leaned back, lit my pipe, and pulled out my old notebook.

I was with Holmes.

I was me.

I was home.