Tell me i'm here, chapter 1
Tell me I’m here.
By Dr. Harley
Rating: PG to NC-17 in later chapters
Pairing: Holmes/Watson, Watson/Mary
Summary: Holmes has a developing case of dementia praecox and he’s unable to deal with it on his own, but will just-married Watson be there for him, having settles down with his new life?
Warnings: Slash, sexual content, emotional torture
Disclaimer: *lazy to think of a witty disclaimer, so just* not my characters
Chapter 1.
Something’s there
“How is your married life going, my dear friend?” Holmes asks, his brows arched in polite interest. For any person his tone would seem absolutely nonchalant, but Watson has known his friend for too many years not to detect insincerity. He sighs wearily as he already knows where the conversation is headed.
“Very well, Holmes, thank you for asking” he replies, careful to sound as confident as he can without being suspicious so Holmes could think he’s lying.
Which he is not, of course.
Holmes is looking him with such intensity Watson grows uncomfortable, but he stands his ground and bears his stare without looking away. Holmes seems to be taking in the level of his sincerity and after several moments a shadow flickers across his face, so quickly that Watson can’t tell for sure if he has actually seen it.
And then Holmes flashes him his toothy smile before taking a cup of tea to his lips. Watson does the same, not actually thinking about his actions.
Holmes has come to visit him in his new apartment, and he was sure to arrive at the time of Mary’s absence which was predictable but nevertheless annoying. Holmes is a grownup man (albeit his regular acting like a capricious five-years old child) and Watson has a right to expect appropriate behavior from him. He’s simply sick and tired of Holmes possessiveness like that of a child who had been bereft of his favorite toy.
“But are you one hundred percent sure you’ve done the right thing, marring Marry?” Holmes starts all over again, and Watson breathing quickens with annoyance at the sight of that sparkles dancing in his friends eyes.
“Yes I am, Holmes, so would you just please drop it?!” Watson snaps, his knuckles going white at the force he is using to hold his cup of tea.
“Ah, my friend, I think I can hear your teeth gnashing. May be you are holding something back?” Holmes says with an expression of absolute smugness on his face, which is the breaking point for Watson, making him explode.
“Yes, actually I am, I’m holding back that you are impossible and unbelievably stubborn, and the level of your immorality and ability to get under my skin is higher than you can imagine! Oh, and also that you’re acting like a bastard and I’m sick of it!”
Holmes puts on a face of fake concern.
“You’ve been very irascible lately, old boy, I wonder whether it’s your premature wedding telling on you”
Watson just opens and closes his mouth, unable to think of a reply for that, angry and sore, but more than that - confused as to why exactly he is angry. It isn’t the first time Holmes is acting this way, though it might be the frequency of it that makes him so upset.
May be he should stop inviting Holmes to his house? It only ends up with him fuming and Mary getting upset anyway, so why bother? Holmes will never accept his marriage; it’s been four weeks already and look at his friend!
He sighs deeply, rubbing his eyes and feeling Holmes’ stare on his face, watching him.
“I’m just worried about you, old chap” Holmes finally says and his hand reaches down to his pocket to fish out his pipe.
“There’s no need” Watson replies coolly, but Holmes ignores his tone.
“I do think there is” Holmes says, nodding to confirm his own words, a puff of smoke escaping his lips. “Because, I assure you, there will be a problem when you realize, sooner or later, that you don’t love Mary, and my task here is to prevent this ‘later’ because of all the wasted time you will so much regret.”
“I love my wife, Holmes, whether you like it or not, I really do, so it’s time for you to either accept it or to back off and leave me alone” Watson grumbles through gritted teeth.
“You think so now” Holmes agrees and his expression is no more one of amusement, but deadly serious and Watson suddenly can’t help noticing the dark circles below his friend’s eyes, the sick glitter on his eyes, the hollow cheeks as if he has been very ill lately. Watson frowns, taking in the way in which Holmes is seated in his chair - hunched, his back tense and shoulders hitched. He lets it go, though, as Holmes continues:
“Today she’s a mystery to you, a person who you don’t really know but look forward to getting to know. But what will it be like in, for example, a year, when you realize there’s nothing more to her than the day you met, that there’s no mystery behind? Won’t you be bored? Because you, my friend, like me, enjoy solving puzzles and mysteries and I can’t imagine you trapped in that small box of domestic duties you are so willingly leading yourself to”
“So are you saying that every married man who ‘solved his beloved one’s mystery’ and got to know her is unhappy and trapped ‘in a box’? This is ridiculous, Holmes!”
“It’s not what I’m saying, my friend, you are not listening to me” Holmes says, shaking his head. “I’m saying there must be something more to it than just an excitement of a new person”
Watson opens his mouth to retort, but snaps it shut, suddenly feeling way too angry with Holmes, though he knows perfectly well he’s furious because Holmes’ words make sense, but he chooses to ignore it. He looks at Holmes as the detective speaks again:
“I mean, it would be just too late when you finally accept that -”
Holmes stops in mid-sentence suddenly, his face stony and his whole body freezes. Watson frowns at that, sure that it’s another trick Holmes decided to play on him, so he keeps silent and waits for what will come next.
But Holmes doesn’t speak either, his eyes wide and looking somewhere above Watson’s right shoulder, and though the doctor still doesn’t buy it he turns around, not seeing anything unusual.
When he looks back at Holmes, though, there’s uneasy feeling in his stomach as he has never seen this expression on the detective’s face before. Holmes brows are furrowed, his eyes wide and fixed on something beyond Watson’s reach, his lips slightly parted. The pipe is lying on Holmes’ lap, obviously having fallen from his mouth, the tobacco spilled all around.
The obvious fear distorted his face and for a brief moment Watson feels it too. He swallows nervously, watching Holmes shrivel up with fear in his chair, the detective’s breathing become harsh and shallow, and his chest rising and falling unsteadily.
“Holmes?” Watson calls quietly, not sure why he feels so uncomfortable.
Holmes jerks so violently Watson is sure he has forgotten where he is. His body moves in Watson’s direction, his eyes, though, stay fixed on something behind Watson.
“Yes?” he rasps, and his voice sounds so hoarse as if he hasn’t talked in days.
“What’s wrong?” Watson asks him tentatively, the situation seems somewhat unrealistic to him.
“What? Nothing” Holmes replies too quickly, finally looking at the doctor, and Watson is overwhelmed by the primal fear in Holmes’ eyes. He automatically turns around again, hoping to see this thing that could have possibly scared Holmes so much but he can’t find anything for the life of him.
Holmes stands up sharply, his pipe falling on the floor with a loud crack but he doesn’t seem to hear it.
“I-I should go now, Watson, see you later, yes” Holmes rambles, avoiding doctor’s gaze, and Watson reaches out and grabs him by the forearm in a desperate attempt to stop him from running to the door.
“Holmes, please, wait, what was that?! I mean, you were -”
He stops, only now noticing Holmes’ right hand is twitching so hard it’s actually shaking. Holmes follows his gaze and quickly puts his hand in a pocket before Watson has time to grab it.
“I should go” he insists more firmly, but Watson doesn’t let him.
“Wait, I must look at your hand -”
“I said I should go!” Holmes suddenly yells, making Watson take a step back. Now he looks really mad, his eyes flashing and chest rising and falling violently. His sweaty hair stuck to his forehead and for a moment Watson wants to wipe them away.
Holmes shouts: “Get the bloody hell off me, Watson, or are you deaf as well as ignorant?!”
Watson keeps silent, shocked and confused with such behavior, and Holmes takes advantage of that and escapes quickly through the main entrance, without looking back once.
When Watson’s out of his trance-like state, Holmes is already out of his house.
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A/N: So here’s the first chapter, not big, but I promise the next one will be longer. I don’t know anything about the frequency of my future posts, as I don’t have much time during the week and I also plan on writing my other fics - and I have like shit load of unfinished fics in Harry Potter and the Dark Knight - so, please bear with me.
Also, if you’d be so kind, please, point out the mistakes I made I’d be really happy :)
The next parts will be longer and darker, as I’m really into emotional torture of a character, so well, I warned you. Also, the rating will change.
Thank you for reading and, please, review!