Challenge Response: Saying Goodbye
Title: Saying Goodbye
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Challenge Response #4: Watson, packing his things just before his wedding to Mary.
Watson:
I never thought this would be so difficult.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning I am no longer John H. Watson, retired Army surgeon and friend to Sherlock Holmes, I will be John H. Watson, general practitioner and husband to Mary Morstan.
This is everything I've wanted.
When returned to England a broken and destroyed men I thought there was nothing left for me in this life. I had decided to take the soldiers way out, but my chance meeting with Stamford in the Criterion Bar had changed all that. Sherlock Holmes changed all that.
Holmes...
I owe him more than he will ever know.
He's been silent all day, sitting in his room. I tried to ask him what was wrong but he wouldn't answer me. I'm worried about him, my wedding seems to have affected him more than he cares to admit. More than I care to admit.
My wedding suit hangs on the back of my bedroom door. When the tailor had asked me why I was not marrying in uniform Holmes had answered quietly for me.
I'm not sure I can make it through this wedding without him.
I fasten my suitcase and take one long final look about my room. Tomorrow morning.
Why is saying goodbye so difficult?
Holmes:
I watched him pack.
I watched him fold each item of clothing neatly into his suitcase, I watched him place each book with care into the box.
It hurt.
Eventually the pain was too much for me to bare and I retreated to my room. Here I sit on my bed thinking about how John Watson has changed my life, and how he is going to leave me for good. He says that he will still share my 'adventures', as he calls them, but I don't want to share him.
Mary is a good woman and will make him an excellent wife, so why do I hate her? Why do I hate this excellent woman?
I remember how he froze in the tailors as we were being fitted for our suits. For a moment I entertained the belief that he needs me as much as I need him.
I need him.
That realisation strikes a dagger through my heart. Without Watson I'm only half a man. Without him I am only Sherlock Holmes, but with him I am so much more. Without Watson I probably would have died many years ago, the cocaine would have taken hold and pulled me into the dark abyss that I'm so afraid of.
Why is saying goodbye so difficult?
Rating: PG
Synopsis: Challenge Response #4: Watson, packing his things just before his wedding to Mary.
Watson:
I never thought this would be so difficult.
Tomorrow.
Tomorrow morning I am no longer John H. Watson, retired Army surgeon and friend to Sherlock Holmes, I will be John H. Watson, general practitioner and husband to Mary Morstan.
This is everything I've wanted.
When returned to England a broken and destroyed men I thought there was nothing left for me in this life. I had decided to take the soldiers way out, but my chance meeting with Stamford in the Criterion Bar had changed all that. Sherlock Holmes changed all that.
Holmes...
I owe him more than he will ever know.
He's been silent all day, sitting in his room. I tried to ask him what was wrong but he wouldn't answer me. I'm worried about him, my wedding seems to have affected him more than he cares to admit. More than I care to admit.
My wedding suit hangs on the back of my bedroom door. When the tailor had asked me why I was not marrying in uniform Holmes had answered quietly for me.
I'm not sure I can make it through this wedding without him.
I fasten my suitcase and take one long final look about my room. Tomorrow morning.
Why is saying goodbye so difficult?
Holmes:
I watched him pack.
I watched him fold each item of clothing neatly into his suitcase, I watched him place each book with care into the box.
It hurt.
Eventually the pain was too much for me to bare and I retreated to my room. Here I sit on my bed thinking about how John Watson has changed my life, and how he is going to leave me for good. He says that he will still share my 'adventures', as he calls them, but I don't want to share him.
Mary is a good woman and will make him an excellent wife, so why do I hate her? Why do I hate this excellent woman?
I remember how he froze in the tailors as we were being fitted for our suits. For a moment I entertained the belief that he needs me as much as I need him.
I need him.
That realisation strikes a dagger through my heart. Without Watson I'm only half a man. Without him I am only Sherlock Holmes, but with him I am so much more. Without Watson I probably would have died many years ago, the cocaine would have taken hold and pulled me into the dark abyss that I'm so afraid of.
Why is saying goodbye so difficult?