Sherlock Holmes- A Study in Blood

Chapter 9

"But fate ordains that even the dearest of friends must part." ~Edward Young

Watson emerged from putting Mary down for a nap, only to find Holmes had vanished.  "Holmes?"

"In here," his friend's voice came from behind the closet door.  With a sigh, Watson crossed the room and was about to open the door when he heard, "Don't."

He was afraid to ask, but did so against his better judgement.  "Why ever not?"

"I have nearly cured myself of my affliction.  Five minutes more and I shall emerge a changed man."

Watson rolled his eyes.  "One can only hope," he muttered under his breath as he went to sit down in his chair and wait, amusing himself with a new medical journal Mrs. Hudson had been kind enough to purchase for him.

Five minutes later exactly, the door opened and out came Holmes.  He brushed off his pants and straightened his shirt, as though he actually cared about his appearance, and sat down in the chair next to Watson's.  "So," Watson said without even looking up from his book, "are you going to tell me now?"

Holmes sniffed and took a sip of tea that was now cold.  "I haven't the slightest clue what you are referring to, Watson."

"You know exactly what I'm referring to," Watson said, closing journal to give Holmes his full attention. "I don't mean to rush you, but I think it would be good for the both of us to have it out."

Holmes studied him for a moment.  "You really want to know?"

"Yes.  For my own piece of mind and, I believe, yours."

"Alright," Holmes agreed with a heavy sigh. "Where would you like me to start this tale?"

"At the beginning would be nice."

"Well, it all started with a package that Irene was told to deliver..."

Watson glared.  "Holmes."

"Very well, then. I suppose perhaps the first thing I should tell you, is that I did not intend to survive the fall."

"What?" Watson choked, leaning forward in his chair.  Holmes always had a plan.  There was never anything that he did not account for.  "You intended to die?  It was just by some stroke of luck that you managed to survive?"

"I thought you wanted to hear this story, Watson, or is it your intention to rudely interrupt me the entire way through?" 

Watson huffed but pursed his lips together and forced himself to lean back in his chair once again. 

"Thank you.  Now, where was I?  Oh yes, I had not counted on living long once Moriarty and I began our brawl.  I knew that one of us was going to die that night, and I had intended on it being him.  But he took advantage of my injured shoulder and got the upper hand.  I considered just letting him kill me.  It would be easy; a sweet release from the terrors of this world but..." he paused his tale and swallowed thickly, dropping his head before he said softly, "then you came out onto the balcony." 

Watson tensed at the memory of the look of grief that had been on Holmes' face that night.  He tried not to think of it, but he could still see it so clearly in his mind's eye.  He feared he always would.

"When you looked at me, I knew I could not let Moriarty survive.  I could not leave him alive to terrorize the world... to then come after you with the intent to kill... no.  I could not allow it.  I made the decision to jump in that split second it took for us to lock eyes, Watson.  I saw the confusion on your face and the horror as I fell to the death that most assuredly awaited me.  After the initial shock though, I found myself able to enjoy the fall... quite exhilarating, really..."