|5 Times Watson Was Replaced and 1 Time He Wasn't
Author: Jennistar1 PM
ANOTHER 5 times fic of mine! I'm sorry! This time a tale about how Holmes gets over Watson...or attempts to anyway! Enjoy!Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Humor - S. Holmes & J. Watson - Chapters: 3 - Words: 3,898 - Reviews: 75 - Favs: 45 - Follows: 90 - Updated: 07-07-10 - Published: 05-18-10 - id: 5981193
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
NB: New chapter up! Thank you for all the reviews, you are all lovely people, even if you do have violent tendencies towards a certain Doctor Forthright! :p I really hope you enjoy this chapter! I don't own the characters.
3. A New Assistant
It was two weeks later, and once again Watson was back in the confines of 221B, this time with a prize that he was sure would have Holmes eager to spend time with him again…or at least he hoped so, because each attempt he had made so far had been almost carelessly brushed aside, dinner ("Oh, but Forthright and I agreed to cook for Mrs Hudson tonight, he does do a wonderful meat pie…"), walks ("Forthright and I are going to the theatre…"), even a causal catch-up ("Not right now, old boy, it's late and I need to discuss a few things with Forthright…"). It was driving Watson nearly crazy, but this time, this time, things would be different.
He should have knocked. He never did knock, but he thought later he should have, that time. But he had been too careless, too excited even, so he had said "Holmes," as he usually did and had marched through the door -
And came almost face to face with one Doctor Forthright.
"Oh!" said Forthright.
"Ah," said Watson.
There was a screeching silence. Watson surveyed Holmes's new lodger with what he knew must be barely veiled distaste. He had only seen Forthright in the papers (once concerning rumours of his negligence, but most of the time praising his efforts as a doctor - really, thought Watson, sometimes it seemed like the entire world was infatuated with this man), and he had seemed every inch the gentleman, but up close he was even more…stately, Watson supposed. He held himself in a certain way, had a certain look in his eye, a ready smile, all of which made Watson feel nothing less than a poor pauper begging for money at his door. He was probably more intelligent than Watson too, he thought grimly, what with being able to dodge those negligence accusations and all. That must have made him all the more attractive to Holmes, Watson supposed. Blast him.
"I was looking for Holmes," he said faintly.
Forthright gave him one of his Smiles.
"You must be Mr. Watson," he said, and extended a hand.
Watson took it, his own smile like flint. "Doctor Watson, actually," he almost snarled back, and had to resist the temptation to break his hand.
"Oh, yes, of course," Forthright said. "Sorry," he added, sounding anything but. "It's just that I haven't seen you mentioned in the papers at all…"
Bastard. "Yes, well I like to keep myself out of the courts." You bastard.
Forthright's smile turned just that little bit colder. He had not let go of Watson's hand. "Indeed," he said coolly.
Watson tried to keep his smile on his face, for all the world as if nothing had happened, as if he had not just thinly implied that Forthright was not a money-grabbing, underhanded, slipshod cad - calm down John, don't let this man win -
"I hear you are living here now," he tried to say as brightly as possible, retrieving his hand. "Good luck!"
The look Forthright gave him was carefully blank.
"I don't know what you mean."
Watson faltered. "I mean…with Holmes's antics…I mean, his habits, his erratic hours, the…insane violin playing…" which I do not miss at all…
Forthright shook his head. "I don't find it an annoyance."
Watson stared at him. "You don't."
Forthright shook his head with a cheery grin. "Oh no. It's a small price to pay for being near such a genius! I mean, the things he does! The deductions he makes out of the smallest, simplest things! It is quite incredible." He beamed at Watson. "I would never want to argue about his activities. Who could? It would crush down his genius. Quite ridiculous."
Watson tried not to think about the numerous times he had argued, nagged and effectively irritated Holmes into doing things in a normal way, such as sleeping at the right times, or eating occasionally. Surely that wasn't wrong? Surely he hadn't been…but maybe he had, maybe he had been stopping Holmes from solving his cases his way…maybe it was essential to Holmes to keep such strange hours, to eat nothing…maybe that was just how he worked, how he operated, and Watson hadn't understood, had thought he was trying to help…
"Indeed," he said faintly in response to Forthright, but before he could say any more, the door was flung open and Holmes blustered in.
"Forthright! We need to go to Scotland Yard at once! I think I've solved the - oh." The little 'oh' was his response to suddenly seeing Watson standing there, not a happy 'oh' but the sort of 'oh' that one would say when one had bumped into someone who they did not quite have time for. Watson tried to smile.
"Holmes! I thought…opera?" He waved around the tickets that he had spent so long and spent so much effort getting hold of - they were tickets to Holmes's favourite opera, which had been sold out for weeks. He had almost literally had to jump through hoops to get them.
"Oh." To his credit, Holmes did waver slightly, but he soon reverted back to the matter at hand. "I have a case…maybe some other time."
Watson tried not to look too devastated. "Right," he said. "Well…perhaps I could come along - ?"
"Oh no, that's all right - Forthright's coming - are you, old boy?" he directed smoothly at Forthright, who nodded eagerly. Old boy, thought Watson, gritting his teeth. Holmes had only ever called him 'old boy' before…
Holmes turned back to Watson. "Sorry, but…too many doctors spoil the broth and all that…"
Watson forced himself to nod. "Of course."
Holmes clapped his shoulder, briefly, not like he usually did, with a clasp and a prolonged touch, but fleetingly, as if he no longer had the time for any more. "Go back to your wife, old chap," he said brightly. "She'll be wondering where you are - Forthright, can you get your pistol? This expedition will most likely be dangerous."
And he vanished down the stairs, and out of Watson's life once more, without even a second glance. Forthright flashed Watson a glowing smile and retrieved his gun from a drawer (Watson noted uncomfortably that it was identical to his).
"Personally," Forthright said, tucking it securely into his belt and glancing over at Watson, "I don't know how you could bear to leave this - all the cases, the excitement, the danger! It's wonderful! Quite wonderful, I could never leave."
He was gone whilst Watson was still stuttering over an answer.
Watson stood alone in the empty, clean room. It seemed unnatural, felt unnatural, all this order in a place where he had only known a somehow blissful chaos.
He had not said it, but the words seemed to echo through the silence anyway. I don't know either.
Please review! Next chapter up soon!