Chapter 6

I saw very little of Holmes for the remainder of the week. He spent most of the time in his room, coming out only once to retrieve his violin; I supposed that the boredom of the last several days had finally gotten to him. He tripped only once, and I still had enough respect for him to honour his wishes and let him gain his own balance.

All I saw or heard of him for the next two days was the playing of that violin day and night. Normally it would have bothered me, but it was a nice change from the silence of the last week.

Again I found myself reading in the sitting room, when the music finally stopped. How curious. I turned at the sound of Holmes' door opening. He just stood there staring at me for a moment, contemplating whether or not to turn back.

I couldn't help but wonder why. Had I caught him in the act? By now his eyesight should have improved enough that he could handle a syringe, and even I was amazed that he had gone so long without his seven-percent solution. Still, I doubted that, even with his remarkable improvements, he would be able to use the needle with the accuracy he once did. And, I was certainly not going to let him attempt it.

"Watson..." he interrupted my thoughts. I waited for it, the question of where I had hidden his vice this time. But he was hesitant. It felt as if several minutes had passed in silence before, "I'm sorry."

That...I was not expecting. "What?"

I half expected him to roll his eyes and return to his state of self-isolation. But he didn't. "I said...I said that I am sorry. I...apologize for all that I have put you through over the last week."

Was this really Sherlock Holmes. "No problem at all," the last week had been quite trying, but, "I was happy to help."

"No, Watson, you don't understand." He began moving closer to me, as if I had not quite heard him from his place across the room. What amazed me was that – despite all the obstructions – he seemed to navigate the room perfectly, except for a close call or two. "You have been nothing but good to me, yet all I've done is push you away and make your job more difficult."

"Holmes, you are not a job."

"Right, I'm a chore. A job implies that you are receiving compensation. Very good, Watson. You're improving."

I rolled my eyes, "You're not that either, Holmes. You're my friend, and I'm happy to help you in any way I can." He opened his mouth to say something. "No, Holmes. I mean it. You couldn't help your actions, and I understand that. But, if you feel you must apologize for your very nature, you may do so by promising that you will at least attempt to not put yourself in a situation for something like this to happen again?"

Clearly, he had not been expecting that. But, after a moment, he nodded with a smile.

I returned the smile. "Good. Now, I assume you have improved enough to be capable of reading? I've been missing the old Sherlock Holmes, and Lestrade has sent a telegraph about a new case." I crossed the room to retrieve the aforementioned message.

"No," he interrupted my action, "the case can wait. I would much rather treat my dear friend to an evening at Simpson's."

And how could I deny him his wish?

AN: There was a snowday today, so here is the promised chapter. I think it might also be the last chapter, since this seems like a good place to end. There could be an epilogue in the future, or maybe even a sequel. I'm not promising anything, though. We'll just have to see if the time and inspiration show up. Until then, thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, etc. Did you all like it? Is there anything you wish I had done differently? Your feedback helps. ^_^

Yours truly.