Worthless - A Fic for Watson's Woes
Title: Worthless
Author: SailingHearts
Word Count: 705
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Culbert Smith indirectly
Warnings: AU (no marriage, just Watson having a practice that keeps him very busy but still living at 221B), Angst, H/C
Summary: For the 250 member’s celebration on Watson’s Woes at LiveJournal.
A/N: This fulfills a wish made by the Lady Carfax, asking for my take on Watson’s reaction to DYIN. It is short, but I hope you like it. It has the distinct potential of become a multi-chaptered fiction if enough people think it would be worth the effort.
Journal of John Watson MD
Holmes had been dying. It was not commented on, but when I came out from behind his headboard, my eyes had been bright with unshed tears. Vaseline, belladonna, rouge and beeswax. Holmes had explained saying that with my lack of acting ability and his respect of my professional abilities had led him to decide that the deception was necessary. I will admit that Smith was one of the worse criminals we had ever encountered. But that Holmes had so little confidence in my ability to help that it cut me to the quick. I will admit here that even as I write this, I have tears running down my face. He has proven to me tonight that I am inadequate. He needs someone to help him who is more intelligent. Less emotional. I spend so much time with my patients that I didn’t even realize that my best friend had eaten in three days. What good am I to him? I could have killed him. The thought that he could have truly died because of my inabilities twists my heart with pain. Thankfully I can hear the sounds of his violin drifting up the stairway. It is a soothing sound. Tomorrow, I shall look for rooms nearer my practice. It has been proven that I cannot be the partner he needs. I need to step aside, to let him find someone who can actually assist him.
Watson sat at my desk for a few moments after laying the pen down. With a sigh, he got up, tuned off the gas lamp and climbed into bed. Slowly the violin music calmed him enough to sleep. It was a restless sleep and he tossed and turned in the bed often. Once he cried out from a nightmare of burying Holmes. He awoke for a moment, and then drifted off again. When Watson woke again, sunlight was streaming in the windows. He vaguely felt that Holmes had been in his room last night. He remembered waking for a moment, and seeing the detective sitting in a chair in his room, the lamp on low, watching Watson. Dismissing it as part of his dreams, he slowly climbed out of bed. He had a heavy heart as he thought of his day. He would reschedule his afternoon appointments to make time to look for a set of rooms. Sitting and bedroom would be all he would need. They would need to be in walking distance of his practice. He dressed then moved to his desk. His journal was still open from the night before. However, on the page below where Watson had written was another entry.
“My dear Watson,
I hope that you are not angry with me for reading the above entry. I came to your room last night when I heard you tossing in your bed. My curiosity got the better of me when I lit the lamp and this journal laying open on your desk. However, I deviate from what I wished to convey.
Please, realize that I would never want another partner in the Agency besides you. There cannot be another man in all of the Queen’s Empire better suited for me to work along side of. Had I known that my deceiving you would spawn a reaction this deep I would have never done it.
I was afraid to involve you beyond the level that I did. Smith was a dangerous man. His little devices were ingenious. I simply could not stand the thought that you might spring one, and die. I had to keep you out of the picture.
I am sorry, my Boswell. Please reconsider.
-S.H.”
Author: SailingHearts
Word Count: 705
Characters: Holmes, Watson, Culbert Smith indirectly
Warnings: AU (no marriage, just Watson having a practice that keeps him very busy but still living at 221B), Angst, H/C
Summary: For the 250 member’s celebration on Watson’s Woes at LiveJournal.
A/N: This fulfills a wish made by the Lady Carfax, asking for my take on Watson’s reaction to DYIN. It is short, but I hope you like it. It has the distinct potential of become a multi-chaptered fiction if enough people think it would be worth the effort.
Journal of John Watson MD
Holmes had been dying. It was not commented on, but when I came out from behind his headboard, my eyes had been bright with unshed tears. Vaseline, belladonna, rouge and beeswax. Holmes had explained saying that with my lack of acting ability and his respect of my professional abilities had led him to decide that the deception was necessary. I will admit that Smith was one of the worse criminals we had ever encountered. But that Holmes had so little confidence in my ability to help that it cut me to the quick. I will admit here that even as I write this, I have tears running down my face. He has proven to me tonight that I am inadequate. He needs someone to help him who is more intelligent. Less emotional. I spend so much time with my patients that I didn’t even realize that my best friend had eaten in three days. What good am I to him? I could have killed him. The thought that he could have truly died because of my inabilities twists my heart with pain. Thankfully I can hear the sounds of his violin drifting up the stairway. It is a soothing sound. Tomorrow, I shall look for rooms nearer my practice. It has been proven that I cannot be the partner he needs. I need to step aside, to let him find someone who can actually assist him.
Watson sat at my desk for a few moments after laying the pen down. With a sigh, he got up, tuned off the gas lamp and climbed into bed. Slowly the violin music calmed him enough to sleep. It was a restless sleep and he tossed and turned in the bed often. Once he cried out from a nightmare of burying Holmes. He awoke for a moment, and then drifted off again. When Watson woke again, sunlight was streaming in the windows. He vaguely felt that Holmes had been in his room last night. He remembered waking for a moment, and seeing the detective sitting in a chair in his room, the lamp on low, watching Watson. Dismissing it as part of his dreams, he slowly climbed out of bed. He had a heavy heart as he thought of his day. He would reschedule his afternoon appointments to make time to look for a set of rooms. Sitting and bedroom would be all he would need. They would need to be in walking distance of his practice. He dressed then moved to his desk. His journal was still open from the night before. However, on the page below where Watson had written was another entry.
“My dear Watson,
I hope that you are not angry with me for reading the above entry. I came to your room last night when I heard you tossing in your bed. My curiosity got the better of me when I lit the lamp and this journal laying open on your desk. However, I deviate from what I wished to convey.
Please, realize that I would never want another partner in the Agency besides you. There cannot be another man in all of the Queen’s Empire better suited for me to work along side of. Had I known that my deceiving you would spawn a reaction this deep I would have never done it.
I was afraid to involve you beyond the level that I did. Smith was a dangerous man. His little devices were ingenious. I simply could not stand the thought that you might spring one, and die. I had to keep you out of the picture.
I am sorry, my Boswell. Please reconsider.
-S.H.”