NB: Drabbles of mine, the titles of which found here:
http:// community .live journal .com/64damn_prompts/profile (just remove the spaces if you want to look - I found it on Google when I was bored so I don't claim any credit for the titles!!)
I also don't own these people, I just play with 'em!
Holmes/Watson, mostly implied…
1. 2 a.m.
Watson woke up. It was two in the morning, and he knew this without even having to check the clock on the mantelpiece opposite.
He knew it was two in the morning, because he woke up at the same time every night.
In 221b Baker Street, two in the morning had meant the start of Holmes' insufferable screeching on his violin, which usually ended with Watson coming to his room and throwing heavy things at him until he stopped.
In Cavendish Place, two in the morning meant a dead silence, and a sleeping Mary, and a wakeful Watson, and usually ended with him drifting back to sleep about an hour later.
A violin…sometimes played beautifully (and then Watson would lie there for a little while longer just so that he could listen to it until he went to shout at Holmes) or sometimes played atrociously, or not played at all but merely tweaked at, a discordant variety of notes falling like rain out of the sky…A violin at two in the morning…
It was proof of how insane Holmes had made him, he thought wryly and more than a little desolately, as he stared at the ceiling, that he found himself actually missing his late night interruptions.
He did not fall back to sleep until it was almost dawn.
"You." To Holmes the word had always meant, and would always mean, "us". Because for Holmes, "you" was "us". Since Watson had appeared in his life, there was no "you". Just "us".
It had happened so subtly. First it was the most idle of thoughts - visiting an opera would include the thought "I should get some tickets for us", booking a restaurant would involve "a table for us", even "a cab for us". And then it was more definite - "food shopping for us", and, when Gladstone had come along "a dog for us".
And then Watson had taken an active part in his cases, and it was "I must look after us", a thought that had arrived in a cold, blustery form in the middle of the night and, once stuck, had refused to leave.
And then "us" was in everything, every sentence. Everything he did, he did as part of "us".
He had thought Watson thought the same.
Maybe he had, until now.
"Not us. You."
He wondered what it was he had done to make Watson change his mind so.
Holmes liked the sky. The sky, once you got past the clouds and the birds and anything else that might be obscuring its view, was blank. It was blue, and blank. Nothing changed, there was nothing else to notice, things didn't keep happening, didn't keep shifting. It was just…there. It was such a refreshing break from the frenzied bustle of the world around him, that sometimes, on bad days, when reality got too much for him to handle, he would lie on the floor by the window and stare at the sky, trying his best to ignore the distractions around him and focus on the blue.
Even then, his mind rushed. Even then, he was thinking a million different things at once. But it was…muted somehow, when he stared at the sky. The world seemed further away. It was all so…blank.
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