Authoress' Notes:

For those of you who wanted a treatment of Blackwood's death, particularly SzarlotUK, I'm revisiting that day again. This piece was just ridiculously fun (in a twisted sort of way) to write, and I think it should be fun to read-- once you get past the depressing Blackwood's dead thing, of course.

Disclaimer: If I owned it, the gay would be way more obvious.

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Bitter

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Once he's gotten himself down off of the bridge and into the frenzied crowd, Holmes finds his eyes drawn irresistibly towards the commotion coming from the center of a knot of Lestrade's men. Curious, he steps past Lestrade, who has been trying to question him for the past four and a half minutes, and, ignoring the man's indignation, walks towards the source of the chaos.

The officers part to let him through, and Holmes suddenly finds himself confronted with a piteous sight. Lord Coward, whose lustful eyes and cool demeanor so enticed him only days before, struggles, handcuffed, in the grips of four of Scotland Yard's strongest, tears streaming down his reddened face as he screams incoherently, broken words, curses, prayers interrupted only by heart-rending sobs and shuddering, frantic gasps for air. He lunges desperately towards the bridge, trying to break free, and, guiltless as he is in Blackwood's death, Holmes feels his stomach twist and clench violently to see the man so reduced.

Holmes sees the pieces, the clues, and puts them together, because that's what he does, and his heart aches with a desperate sympathy he has never felt before, because in this moment he knows Coward, knows what he feels, because it's the same thing he feels every time he sees Watson's eyes go distant and dreamy as he speaks of her, a feeling of anguish, of loss and collapse, and--

Watson.

Holmes spins around, looking about frantically, but Clarkie puts a gentle hand on his shoulder and points. At the sight of Watson leaning easily against a wall, speaking with Lestrade, Holmes' heart foolishly forgets the bitter taste of Watson's impending nuptials and soars, giddy with relief and joy, and behind him, all the while, Coward hangs by his arms from the hands of the guards, hangs like a broken puppet, screaming and screaming and sobbing and dying, and it sounds like he'll never stop.

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I tried to work some rhythm into the last couple lines (starting at "Coward hangs") to get that surreal sing-song effect. I hope it worked.

Please review!