FanFic100--Dracula, General--014. "Green"
Doctor John Seward was know for being a level headed and punctual man who though before he did anything and had overall good sense. So when neither Quincey nor Arthur had seen him for over a week, and his assistants at the asylum said he had called in sick, Arthur knew something was wrong. Seward never got sick.
Although Quincey was the one who discovered where he was, it was Arthur who went to go collect Seward. The bar was a rank and dingy place tucked away in the slums. The poor went there to drink, the rich went there for the opium or other drugs they had to keep secret. Arthur spoke to the man at the door in a low tone, and was pointed toward the back of the room.
Seward was slumped half unconscious over a table in the back corner of the room. A bottle half full of a sickeningly green liquid sat on the table alongside a glass, spoon, and the remnants of a dish of sugar cubes. Arthur shook his head at the sight. “Oh Jack, what have you done to yourself?”
When Seward opened his eyes, Arthur nearly jumped out of his skin. “What are you doing here, Art?” he mumbled as he sat up. Arthur sat down across from him.
“My word, Jack, don’t scare a man like that. I though you were-”
“You thought I was bloody dead drunk; but what are you doing here? Checking in on me? It’s none of your bloody awful business. I s’pose Quincey probably had a hand in it too. Cor blimey, a man can’t have a drink in peace.”
Arthur stared at his old friend. Seward’s hair was tousled, his waistcoat unbuttoned, and he looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. Seward stared right back at him in silence for a long while. He spoke.
“It’s November, Art. Consumption season.”
Arthur left without Seward.
A few hours later, Seward stood in an old graveyard. It was near the hospital he had first worked when he was fresh out of university. The graveyard was a lonely and desolate place. Seward looked at the name on the stone he stood before. He knew he was the only one to visit here. He came every month, usually after his visits to the Westenra home. A glimmer of light caught the green liquid as he took a swig from his bottle, then he laid it gently next to the flowers he had brought and walked away.