~reminiscing and reunions {/Watson/}

[Sherlock Holmes]

The River Thames was calm that day, and the customary London fog was lighter than usual, though it still hindered one's vision quite a bit. In the distance, the Tower Bridge - still under construction, although he'd heard it would be done soon - loomed over the people of London, huge in comparison. Only one tower was visible, and it gave off an air of loneliness.

Sherlock Holmes had started to realize that the more time he spent alone, the more he started to resent that loneliness. He couldn't even remember how he'd gotten through the days all those years ago before Watson. He knew why Watson had left, and he knew that he'd done his best to keep his brother there with him, but that didn't make it any less hard. Watson was gone, and he was most likely not going to come back.

His mind took him back to the days they'd spent together, all the cases they'd solved together. Watson had become quite an accomplished detective in his own right, perceiving and deducing many of the things Sherlock had. He understood his brother's reasons logically, but as he himself had never experienced that sort of love, he could never truly understand them emotionally as well.

He felt that he hadn't done enough to keep Watson there with him. He knew he couldn't have, that he'd done everything he possibly could to convince John to stay. And as much as he hated it, John had left him. He'd gone off to the countryside with his wife to start a medical practice there, and most notably to get out of the dangerous detective business that Sherlock reveled in.

And there was nothing he could do, though the little flame of hope in his heart still held onto the faint thought that John hadn't left for good, that John missed him as much as he did. He didn't want to fuel the fire, to get his hopes up, because he felt he would be crushed if he did. It almost felt like there was an empty hole in his life somewhere, and no matter what he did, he couldn't patch it up.

Standing on the bank of the Thames, a gentle wind tousled his hair as he just stared off into the distance, thinking of those days that were long over. All of his brilliance, his loyalty - and his love, dammit, he loved the man - had all come to naught before the draw of Mary Morstan upon John's heart. That was the hardest part of the entire situation to deal with.

[Dr. John Watson]

The man didn’t remember what had happened last night, all he knew his that he didn’t sleep much. It was not the first time that John hadn’t slept. There were some nights where the nightmares would come as soon as he seemed to close his eyes. Groaning he rolled over on the couch. He had put up at one of the Hotels. He knew better to, that he should be staying with Holmes. But for once in his life Watson was by himself, and it was nice and quiet. He slowly opened his eyes, and it took him a while to get use to the some sunlight coming through the window. He rubbed his face, feeling the thick sweat under his hand. Yes he now knew for sure what had happened last night.

He slowly pulled himself up, and reached over for the bottle at sat on the table. Empty. Most have drank it last night, John thought to himself. No matter he could get another one later. He got up from the couch, and walked to the bathroom. Just standing there for what seemed like forever. John looked at himself in the mirror. What a mess you are in Watson, something Holmes would say. He sighed deeply. You have to face him soon, John. He knew that he would have to go see Holmes. He couldn’t put it off any longer; he had been here for a few days now. But John didn’t know if he wonted to face Holmes. He was sure that it had broken Holmes when he had left. John was scared that if he saw Holmes again, he would wont to go back to his old life, a life with Holmes.

It wasn’t like John hated Holmes or anything, they did have their conflicts, but they were like brothers, they were always there for each other and John had taken that all away from him. John didn’t care, he was going to go see Holmes before the man did something to himself. There was many times when Holmes would spend days without eating, or he would stay in his room. Holmes never went out places, only out when there was cases, or when John asked him to come to dinner, other than that nothing.

He got dressed and headed down the stairs of the Hotel. He was heading back to Baker Street, a place that would bring back so many good times. But for some old reason his feet took him somewhere else. He started walking towards the River Thames. You could see the Bridge far off, it was still not finished. John didn’t know why he was coming this way, something deep down told him this way. Then he noticed someone up ahead. And he stopped right there dead in his traces. No it can’t be… Holmes?. John knew all to well that it was in fact Holmes sat there. But weird that he was out and about. Which was good in John’s mind, Holmes needed to get out more. He was sure that Holmes would know it was him before he even said anything. He cleared his throat, unsure of what to say. “Well if it isn’t the Great Sherlock Holmes out and about”. It was good to see his old friend again, truth was Watson missed him dear, but the two men would never say it to each other.

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock stared out over the Thames, lost in his thoughts. It wasn't all that uncommon these days for him to do so, as reminiscing was one of the few things he could do to keep his great mind out of the black depressions he found himself falling into more often than he used to. Although, thinking about Watson wasn't exactly something that made him feel the best in the world...

“Well if it isn’t the Great Sherlock Holmes out and about."

A familiar voice cut through Sherlock's train of thought, startling him slightly. His brown eyes widened almost imperceptibly and his jaw fell a slight bit. "John." went the unspoken thought. There was no way to mistake that voice. "He did come back." Composing himself, he slowly turned a bit towards his long time friend and brother, the half smirk that was the closest he would let himself get to a smile in public on his face. His eyes, however, showed a completely different story.

He was tired, to say the very least, tired and worn down. He hadn't been sleeping regularly, sleeping for only one or two hours at a time, and with at least 36 hours inbetween. At the moment, he'd been awake for almost 62 hours, and his attempts at normal sleep had been foiled by restlessness. Though the main problem, he felt, was the silence of the apartment. He'd always been able to hear Watson moving around, or the pages flipping as he read a book, and the absence of another life in their rooms had been quite a change after all these years.

He'd been unable to keep himself from falling into his dark depressions, and even his experiments wouldn't do the job. He felt that this was also tied into Watson's absence, though he was unsure of exactly how. Watson had always been his partner, and pretty much his only close family. Watson had to have known that his leaving would affect Sherlock, though he couldn't have known how much. All of this and more was reflected in those brown eyes, all too expressive for his liking, yet only to those who knew him. Even so, he did his best to cover it up.

"I thought you would have stayed in the countryside." he replied, his voice softer than it used to be. The relief and joy at seeing Watson again pervaded it, betraying his intentions to cover it up. His normally cold and detached manner was shaken by his brother's reappearance and his own lack of sleep. He attempted to play it off, turning back towards the Thames so Watson couldn't see his face very well. Watson was one of the people who could tell what he was feeling no matter what he covered up. He could only hope that he wasn't being too obvious in his feelings.

[Dr. John Watson]

The good doctor hadn't been in London very long. The ride from His and Mary's place had been had and long and his leg had started to hurt, blast old wound of his. John found that he wasn't the same after the war, if had changed his life, sometimes it took over his thinking. And now he was doing it again. He shook away those thoughts and stepped out into the busy streets of London. He needed to great some air. He was wearing a simple outfit, and it was one of the rare times Watson wasn't wearing a hat.

Watson didn't know where he was going or what he was doing. He had thought about going to see Holmes, but he knew how much more worse it would make the both of them feel. John was trying to live a normal life, but it was hard for the doctor, he was dealing with of many times right now, it wasn't a wonder he had broke down and gone crazy. Send you off the lunely bin. He sighed keep walking, well more like limping, Watson always walked with a limp in his one leg.

He trailed off, thinking about the time Watson had wonted to shot Black wood when they had first got him, but Holmes stopped him, and then at the docks, when he was so close, Watson's anger got a hold of him and he ended up blowing the whole dock up and almost killing himself, Holmes and Miss Irene. He smiled when Holmes turned around giving him one of those half smirk. Ahh now he had missed that. Holmes would never smile when he was out and about.

But his smile faded when he got a look at Holmes face. And John couldn't help but sigh. He had done this to him. He knew that him leaving would have some affected, but he didn't think this much. Oh lord Watson what have you done. He missed her could take it all back, tell Holmes what he really felt, but he couldn't, nothing came out of his mouth as he looked away from Holmes. Him leaving Holmes and not only affect Sherlock, and John too. Sherlock would more then likely notice what Watson looked like.

There were deep black lines under his eyes, he hadn't been sleeping either. Every night he would dream on a nightmare, and wake up in a sweat. He had missed the action life of London, the countryside was boring.. but he loved Mary, and he loved Holmes too. He hadn't eaten in the last four days he had been here in London, he spent those days pacing in his hotel room, wondering what to do. He more then likely smelled of a faint odor of liquor, since he had been drinking last night.

Watson turned back at Holmes words, and smiled lightly, “I came to visit for a few months, I missed old London, less boring the countryside” And I missed you.. But it didn't seem to come out of the good doctor's mouth. He wonted to say he was sorry, that he didn't mean to leave his brother like this, and make him into this person, he didn't know. And it had all been John's flaunt. Extreme gilt washed over the doctor. He sighed and looked back up at him, and for the first time in his life Watson told him what he thought, “I am sorry Holmes..”, was blurted out, not thinking about he spoke, and he looked out towards the Bridge.

[Sherlock Holmes]

“I came to visit for a few months, I missed old London, less boring the countryside.”

Sherlock's smirk turned to a small smile. Oh how he'd missed his friend. Watson had also been affected by their separation, it seemed. The eyes were sunken, the dark circles showing prominently beneath. He hadn't been sleeping well. His face was pale, and the tendons and muscles in his neck seemed to stand out more than usual. He hadn't been eating well, if at all. There was a noticeable odor of liquor on his breath. He had been drinking, and from the concentration, most likely the night before.

They'd definitely been affected in similar ways, though Sherlock was glad that his brother wasn't susceptible to his sort of dark depressions. That would have been horrible. He didn't know if he could stand seeing Watson in that kind of state, mainly because he knew that he could do nothing about it. The only things that could bring him out of his depressive state were work and experiments, but sometimes, when between jobs, even his experiments wouldn't work. Forcefully, he pushed the thought of a depressed Watson out of his mind so he wouldn't get upset about it.

Instead of what could be, he focused on the present, where they were together again, and as healthy as could be allowed for in their situation. Watson had said that he would stay for a few months, which left enough time for him to try and convince him to stay for longer... Oh what was he thinking?! He couldn't try and do that again, especially not when he already felt guilty for it. He wouldn't try and get Watson to stay longer. He couldn't. Not again.

“I am sorry Holmes...”

Watson's frank apology stunned the detective for a bit, and he turned his gaze towards his brother. He'd... apologized? For leaving to be with Mary? Why? He'd been completely selfless through their entire partnership, and now here he was, apologizing for the one bit of selflessness that Sherlock should have allowed from the start. His own selfishness had been the only thing motivating him to drive a wedge between the couple, that selfishness born of love. He'd admitted it to himself, but he doubted he'd ever admit it to the man.

The common conception was that he was incapable of such things as love. There was another that he just wasn't human, based upon some of the things he had done. The common conception, however, was wrong. He was human through and through, and he had never been otherwise. Watson, of all people, had seen him at his worst, and of course, at his best. They'd shared just about everything, and sometimes he even had the courage to let himself relax fully while alone together. Without John's constant presence in the house, without the good doctor by his side, he'd felt truly and utterly alone.

His brother had spoke his mind about the situation, and so, Sherlock felt that it was appropriate to speak his own. "You have no reason to apologize." he replied, following Watson's gaze at the Bridge. He opened his mouth and took a breath to speak the thoughts that came to the surface of his mind, but no words came. It wasn't often that he expressed anything that came remotely close to feelings, and he couldn't immediately find the words to do so. "I am... I'm so sorry, Watson." Once again, he turned towards his brother, finding himself unable to look away while speaking. It had been so hard to start, yet once he knew what he wanted to say, the words wouldn't stop.

"My reasons for attempting to sabotage your marriage were... unreasonable. I had no right to try and dissuade you from the one act that could possibly, in all our years of partnership, be twisted to seem selfish. I truly am sorry, and I hope that you can forgive me." There. It was out. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from him. They had both been affected by their separation. John would be here, steadfast and unchanging as ever. And Sherlock had finally said what had been on his mind ever since his brother had left. Things were the closest they had been to normal in a long, long while.

[Dr. John Watson]

Watson couldn't help but smile a little bit when Holmes gave a small smile. He really hated seeing his brother like this. And it had been all his doing. What have you become Watson. His mind flashed to all the times he would be angered with Holmes over something, all the things he had said to make his friend fall this far down. It put a huge hole in his heart. Very heavy gilt was on his shoulders. He had done this to Holmes.. his brother.. his dearest friend..Had John ever gone to a deep down dark place before.. Yes he had. There had been one time in his whole life. When he thought he was going to die.. He had never wonted death to be so quick in his life.

Seeing Holmes like this was far worse then death and Watson just wanted to crawl into a hole and not come out. He felt so terrible, like a monster, for making Holmes be this way. This was not the Sherlock he had known for so may years. He would more then likely drink again tonight. He would go back to the hotel room, start at the ceiling.. Or maybe he could go back with Holmes.. his hotel was quiet.. he could still hear Holmes guitar playing in his head when he would sleep at night.

The little things he had missed about him. No he would not let Holmes see him like this.. Sure Watson had stopped Holmes from his addiction, with John.. he didn't know. Holmes was more greater to look out for then himself, he didn't care what happened to him as along as Holmes was safe. John didn't know what came over him. He had just told Holmes what was on his mind. He couldn't believe it. After all these the years they had been friends the doctor had never told Holmes how he felt. He really didn't know what came over him.

Maybe all these years on things happening in his life was coming crashing down on Watson after seeing Holmes like this. He sighed in deeply, staring at Holmes. The more he saw his face then move John wonted to die inside. This was truly eating him inside and he didn't know if he could handle it. He leaned on his cane, to help himself from out falling over. His head was dizzy with all these thoughts going through his mind. He took a few long breaths and had to put a hand to his head.

He watched the ocean as he pondered what to say. He slowly rubbed his face and turned back to Holmes. His heart crashing again, when ever he looked at that face. It would be a image John would never be able to get out of his mind. Life had been just so plain since he had left London.. since he had left Holmes... There was no getting up early in the morning to make sure that Holmes was still alive in his room.

There was no telling Holmes to quiet down when he played his guitar at all hours.. There were not time when Watson would find that Holmes had took his cloths. It was all the things he missed, he purely missed the adventure him and Holmes use to have all those years ago... Though he wonted a normal life, he still longed for a normal one. He nods his head, and was going to say something about how he had every right to be saying he was sorry, but it didn't come out. He stared blankly at Holmes when he said he was sorry.

What in God's name would he have anything to be sorry with. Then Watson sighed, remembering how Holmes had tried to stop him from marrying Mary. But Watson knew what Holmes reasons were, and he understood why his friend had done it. Holmes had always been by himself, had no one there for him, until Watson came into the picture, then everything change, and when Watson was leaving him to be by himself again.. well this had happened.

Watson didn't wont to end like this. He straightened himself up abit, no longer leaning on his cane. And he nods his head. Think over the next words he was going to say to his friend.. and brother. “Of all the years I have known you Holmes, I would have never thought this was going to happen. I can see now that I have hurt you deeper then words could ever be said. And I forgive you, I now see what your reasons were about, and I am deeply sorry for what I have done to you.. I should have known this was going to happen..”

He stops for a second, looking right at Holmes. “I should have seen this coming,.. and I should have taken things more slowly with everything.. I never wonted to hurt you Holmes the way I have”. He finished and stared back at the water, he felt little better after that, but his heart was still ripped in half after seeing Holmes like this, and the good doctor didn't know if he would ever get out of the state he was in.

OCC: Sorry about the length I got kind of a muse high...

[Sherlock Holmes]

"I forgive you, I now see what your reasons were about, and I am deeply sorry for what I have done to you.. I should have known this was going to happen.."

Sherlock smiled, and the second half of the weight left him. He hadn't even realized that he was being weighed down that much until he'd apologized. Watson might even be feeling the same way, but neither of them could have known. He'd missed his brother, truly he had, but he didn't know if he could say it. He'd put such distance between himself and his emotions that he would rather just keep quiet and hide them. He'd spoken his mind, and even that had been hard with all of the raw emotion pervading the words, but he'd done it. He'd done it for both of their sakes, so Watson knew what was going through his head, and even his heart when he'd tried to split his brother and his wife apart.

Watson was apologizing too, though. What had he done wrong? In the detective's eyes, the doctor had done nothing worthy of an apology. Sure, he'd gone off to the countryside to be with his beloved wife, but could Sherlock blame him? If he ever loved a woman like that, he'd most likely want to do the same. He'd been hurt by the initial act of leaving, yes, but the real damage came when he took time to figure it out. Watson was gone. The house was empty.

And he was alone. He'd been able to handle loneliness before, but the years of friendship and brotherhood had worked themselves upon him. Before he had enough time to preempt it, he'd been thrust into a loneliness he'd never felt before. He'd known the loneliness of never having anyone there. But having known the comfort of another presence in their rooms, and having that presence be absent was something entirely new to him. And to be quite honest, it hurt.

Watson was blaming himself for being unable to see it. "Should have," he had said. The past was the past, what's done was done, and there was no way to change it. Though, there was always a part of people that wanted to. The reality was that he hadn't seen it coming, and so he'd gone on with his plans. Neither of them had. And neither of them could have.

"I should have seen this coming,.. and I should have taken things more slowly with everything.. I never wonted to hurt you Holmes the way I have.”

Was he still going on about that? He couldn't have seen it coming. Neither of them could have. And neither of them could even dream of consciously hurting the other. Well, at least he couldn't. "My dear Watson," he said, the small, true smile still on his face, "neither of us could have seen it. Future events just aren't things we can comprehend." He put his hand comfortingly on his brother's shoulder, a firm, yet gentle grip.

He needed to say it. He needed to dash whatever sort of misconception his brother had about his health. He was hurting, yes, but it wasn't anything that Watson needed to concern himself with. "I'm not hurt..." he started, finding it a lot harder than he'd originally thought. Speaking his mind was one thing, but lying to Watson, even if it was for his brother's sake, wasn't something he could do lightly. Lying to others wasn't something that he did often, but he could, very convincingly, when he needed to. But to John, his brother... It wasn't easy, and he knew that John would most likely see through it, but the truth in the lie needed to come out.

"I-I just... missed you."

OOC: Don't worry about it. I love long posts. XD