The Game part 3

* The Original Words Written By Sir. Arthur Conan Doyle 

 

Watson lay awake; he tried to come to terms with what had been happening recently.  The game, the case, Holmes, Mary.  Where did it all fit together?

 

I don’t know any more, is Holmes correct, do I have more than just feelings of friendship for Mary?  I love Holmes, I know I do! Why then did I walk away, why didn’t I stay and make love to him? This game was unfair to all concerned. Damn Holmes.  If he would just see that I love him, and stop wanting me to always prove myself. For a man who relies on facts why can't he rely on the fact of my love?

 

Watson sighed a heavily. This is impossible, I don’t want to hurt either of them, but what can I do. I want to see her again, even AFTER the case concludes, but what is it I want. I haven't felt this way in a long time; I have to admit it.. I love Mary.   I also love Holmes, god what do I do... Where does my true path lie! WHY did this have to happen? I was happy before; at least I think I was. I can never be sure where I stand with Holmes/ I know where I stand with Mary, at least as far responding to me in any way shape or form. And what a lovely form she has too.  He smiled and closed his eyes.

 

Watson drifted to sleep taking comfort in thoughts of Mary Morstan.

 

He woke the next morning feeling someone what batter than he had the night before, and yet there were still doubts.  He dressed quickly and headed to the sitting room.

 

Holmes had fallen asleep on the sofa and was still curled up sleeping soundly, which was a bit odd even for him. Watson noticed the morocco case lying on the floor and it all came together. When Watson had failed to provide the release he obviously needed he turned to the cocaine as he had so often in the past.  Watson looked at the sleeping figure sadly. Why do you do this to yourself?  He reached out and gently smoothed the hair back from Holmes brow.  Tenderly he kissed his cheek; Watson had come to a decision.

 

The next few days were filled with adventure, as the case (later to be known as The Sign of Four*) came to a close, it was the last night when the loss of the great treasure had been discovered that Watson had revealed his feelings to Mary.  To the loss of the treasure he has said "Thank God!"  Mary questioned him. His reply * " Because I love you Mary, as sure as ever a man loved a woman. Because this treasure, these riches, sealed my lips. Now that they are gone I can tell you how I love you. That is why I said thank God". 

"Then I say, thank god too" She whispered.*

 

Watson drew her to his side and caught in the heat of the moment whispered " Mary be my wife, Please marry me".

 

Mary looked at him and smiled, "Yes, John, Oh yes" And she passionately kissed him. 

 

Watson was overjoyed, and as he held her there a cold realisation hit him... Holmes.

 

 

Watson decided that today would be the day he told Holmes, it had been two weeks and he procrastinated long enough. He dreaded going down to breakfast as he knew Holmes would be there reading the agony columns.

I've put this off long enough, I must go and tell him.

 

Watson went down to the sitting room to find Holmes just where he expected. "Good Morning Watson". Holmes looked up and smiled at him.

 

Watson smiled back uncertainly. He seems in a good mood; perhaps I shouldn't ruin it.  He sighed; this was not going to be easy.

 

"Watson you have something to tell me?" As if he read his mind, Holmes gazed keenly at Watson. "You have my full attention".

 

"I won't ask how you know, as I am sure it's all absurdly simple, so I guess I better just say what I have to." Watson cleared his throat and walked to the chair opposite Holmes.  Sitting he face his friend, "Holmes… I don't know how to say this... I can hardly believe it myself."

 

Holmes looks at Watson and smiles, he reaches for his hand and pats it reassuringly, "Go on Watson, it can't be all that bad."

 

Watson nods, "I have asked Miss Morstan to marry me." He sighs relieved to have it out in the open.

 

Holmes begins to laugh "Oh well done Watson!  I can safely assume the lady has said yes?" He cocked his head in the way he did when listening to one of his clients.

 

Watson is taken aback at Holmes positive reaction "Um.. Well, yes.

 

Holmes clasped his hands "Excellent Doctor!  You have far exceeded my expectations. Well done." His laughter rang in Watsons ears.

 

"Your are pleased for me then?"

 

"Yes of course, dear fellow, you've won the game! Not only did you seduce the lady but extracted a promise of marriage from her.  I should have KNOWN my Watson would not have quite, to think I had thought you serious when you said no more game."

 

OH GOD he thinks s I was playing that’s stupid game!

 

"Holmes I think there has been a misunderstanding." Leaning forward he placed a hand on Holmes shoulder.

 

"Oh?" Holmes good humour was beginning to fade.

 

"Yes. I have asked Mary to marry me because I WISH to marry her. No game Holmes, I was serious when I said that."

 

OH god please don't let this mean what IT I think it does. It MUST be a joke, to teach me a lesson about the games.  Yes a joke.

Holmes gazed at Watson with much confusion, and desperately tried to cover it up. "Why would you wish such a thing? And to her of all people?  Watson you do like to kid" Holmes laughed an insecure laugh.

 

Watson looked his friend in the eye; he could see the insecurity, though only HE would have noticed it. There was nothing left but to tell the truth.

 

"Holmes, I love her and THAT is why I wish to marry her, what's more she loves me and is not afraid to show it, she accepts me and my faults and doesn't need me to prove myself."  Swallowing hard he continued. "Most of all, and MOST important she doesn't play games!"

 

For the first time in his life Sherlock Holmes was stunned into silence. He sat dumbfounded by the realisation that HIS Watson loved another. How can this be? No… Watson would never do this to ME.  This must be HIS game. Yes that’s it's His game. There's no way that MY Watson can mean this.

 

Holmes searched Watsons face for the truth. Watson smiled gently

"You certainly have a way of teaching me a lesson don't you!  Dear Watson, No more games" He gave his most winning smile as clasped Watson on the shoulder.

 

Watsons gentle features harden and his gaze became stern. He removed the hand from his shoulder, and his voice sounded almost icy. " It's too late Holmes. I am serious, I AM marring Mary."

 

Something in his voice, or perhaps it was the look that made Holmes truly believe that Watson was serious.

 

He felt a lump in his throat and tried to swallow. Running his hand through his dark hair he sighed a deep regretful sigh.

Again at a loss he looked pleadingly at Watson.  His face had taken on odd quality a mixture of disbelief and sorrow. He nervously began clutching the dressing gown to his chest.  When he opened his mouth his voice was a choked whisper. "Wh..when?"

 

"End of September I should think" Watson replied matter of fact.

 

Holmes closed his eyes and shook his head ruefully. His face became the icy mask again. H e spoke slowly. "Well that’s it then, be done with you I say! Go on. Leave. Don't drag it out. No need to stay on my account. GO Doctor, go now and pack and get out" The malicious tone in his voice was the only sign of his of emotion as he waved his hands dismissivly.

 

"If that is what you wish. I shall leave first thing tomorrow morning"

 

Holmes did not reply.

 

Watson spent the rest of the day making arrangements and packing what few belongings he had.  Needless to say he had a sleepless night. Perhaps Holmes will change his mind.

 

Morning came and Watson made his way to the sitting room he peered through the half-opened door. Holmes was curled in his chair, no dressing gown, and just a nightshirt. The shirtsleeve was rolled up and the band of Indian rubber was still tied loosely to his arm, the needle lay discarded upon the floor. He must have recently injected himself.

Watson noticed that the usual euphoric look had been replaced by something completely new to Holmes, despair. There was such a look of sadness in his eyes it could only be described as heartbreak.  In the opposite hand he held a silver frame, Watson knew it contained the photo of him in his army uniform shortly before he went off to Afghanistan.  Holmes had said he liked it, so Watson had bought the frame and given it to him on the occasion of their Anniversary as lovers.

 

The frame was wet, at some point Holmes had been crying.  "Watson" he murmured, and closed his eyes.  What have done? At that moment he felt like dying.   From that moment on Watson would always feel like the man who had broken Sherlock Holmes.