Care

28. january 2013 at 19:52 | Natalia Contostavlos
......Written for one of my dearest friends who would surely appreciate the balance in Holmes' and Watson's relationship as well as the fact that she was included in the story.
......I tried to make it s believable as possible, but still keep my own writing style in the story. I hope I was successful.
Warning: none
Disclaimer: I don't own anything :)

.
......"What's wrong, my dear boy?" I asked Holmes when he lit up yet another cigarette.
......He shrugged his shoulders and didn't say anything. It was very disturbing, indeed. Holmes rarely ever smoke cigarettes.
......"Don't you have a case, Holmes?"
......He nodded absentmindedly.
......I sighed. "What would you say to a cup of tea?"
......He didn't answer, but I got up anyway.
......"I'll go and see whether Mrs. Hudson would be so kind as to brew us a pot."

......I treaded carefully up the stairs, my hands full. I've set the tray down on the coffee table and looked at my dear friend. He was still sitting where I'd left him minutes before. Something seemed out of order though.
......"Holmes?" I asked tentatively and approached him. "Is something the matter?"
......The only answer I received as a slight sigh as he closed his eyes.
......I frowned. What was wrong with him? I inspected our surroundings. The office was in complete disarray as usual. There were books and papers scattered everywhere, little test tubes with many different liquids, glass bottles full of various potions, pipe with a little box of tobacco on the mantel, a cigarette case on the coffee table, another case right next to it, a blanket draped over the-
......I stopped myself. There really was a black leather case on the table. I scowled in disgust for I knew what it contained. A glass syringe filled with a seven percent solution of cocaine.
......I opened my mouth to scold him, but changed my mind. If I'd gotten a Guinea every time I chided Holmes for ruining his health, I wouldn't need a flat share.
......Just as I wanted to excuse myself we heard a knock on the door.
......"Mr. Holmes? There's Miss Hunter to see you."
......My friend nodded and stood up. "Show her in, Mrs. Hudson."
......Our landlady scuttled away and both me and Holmes sat down.
......We didn't have to wait long for Miss Hunter to appear.
......"Mr. Holmes, Doctor, good evening."
......I stood up. "Good evening, Miss Hunter, it's pleasant to see you again."
......She smiled politely and sat down.
......"I'm here to ask about my father's murder, Mr. Holmes. I don't mean to sound impatient, God forbid, but I've been feeling on edge all week."
......Holmes nodded. "That's understandable, irrational minds work that way."
......She looked interested rather than offended. "Irrational?"
......"Yes, focusing on something you can't change instead of on the things of importance. It must be very tiresome."
......Miss Hunter shrugged. "We all do what we do best."
......My friend snarled. "How very naive to believe that. Miss Hunter, I am a man of science."
......She smiled. "I know, but not even you are able to explain everything, Mr. Holmes."
......I stepped in to prevent Holmes from actually offending her. "Why don't you share your findings with us, Holmes? You've been out whole day yesterday."
......Holmes took a deep breath to compose himself. The cocaine slowed his whirling mind and while it usually was the effect Holmes desired, now it was clearly holding him back. I could only hope that Miss Hunter wouldn't notice his dilated pupils.
......"I've met up with a gentleman who claimed to be a dear friend of your father's. Mr. Paul Darnley, ever heard of him?"
......Miss Hunter shook her head. "Never. What did he say?
......"Not much, but he gave me an inkling of what happened."
......Miss Hunter raised her eyebrows. "And what might that be?"
......Holmes shook his head. "I still need to work on my theory." He stood up. "Now, if you excuse me."
.
.
......After I showed Miss Hunter out, I went to search for Holmes. He was sitting on his bed staring intently on a bullet hole in his wall and pouting slightly. I sighed and stood in front of him.
......"Holmes, that was hardly acceptable. You were very rude to Miss Hunter. She didn't deserve that. The poor lady has just lost her father."
......"Her step-father."
......I frowned. "That doesn't make any difference, Holmes. She was emotionally attached to the man."
......"Don't be absurd, Watson. She's been spending all her time buried in books. She didn't even know he existed."
......I shrugged. "She is quite lettered, I suppose."
......My friend nodded. "Too much for her own good. She thinks she might be more clever than me. Would you believe that, my dear friend?"
......I remembered the syringe laying peacefully on our coffee table and grunted out a silent: "Maybe she is."
......He had the decency to look hurt. "You are not being impartial my friend. Surely you don't believe that?"
......I stared. He sounded insecure, which is not a word one usually connects with Holmes.
......I sighed and sat down next to him.
......"You are brilliant, Holmes. There's no doubt about that. Sometimes, however, you are absolutely ignorant of things around you. You don't realize that there are actually people around you who care about you."
......Holmes stared at me for a while and when I thought he was finally going to say something, he abruptly stood up.
......"Holmes!"
......"Care, Watson. That's it - care!"
......I shook my head. Sometimes I just didn't understand the man. I went after him.
......"Care to explain, my dear?"
......Holmes smiled. "It's elementary, Watson. Quite elementary. He cared about her after all. He cared."
......"I'm afraid I still don't follow you."
......Holmes stuffed his pipe with tobacco and lit it up. "Sit down, old boy."
......I did as I was told and looked at him expectantly.
......"Mr. Hunter was very ill. Paul Darnley told me that he had only a few months of painful suffering ahead of him. It is understandable that he wanted to leave peacefully - don't interrupt, Watson . I knew that, obviously, what I didn't know was, why would he want his own suicide to seem like a murder. You gave me the answer to that, dear Watson. Miss Hunter has very little to live from and her step-father wanted her to profit from his death. The insurance company wouldn't give her anything had they known he killed himself. You see? That's why he didn't leave a letter."
......I nodded. "And broke the window."
......"And didn't use his gun."
......"And used his left hand."
......Holmes smiled. "Very good, Watson. Very good indeed."
......I became serious. "What are we going to do? Do we notify the police?"
......Holmes shook his head. "There's no reason to deprive Miss Hunter of her much needed money. She doesn't deserve that. The police will never find out."
......"And what about Miss Hunter? What do we tell her?"
......My friend smiled. "The truth. It's the least we can offer her."
......"You are a good man, Holmes. No matter how hard you try to deny it."
......Holmes sighed, his eyes straying towards the coffee table. "Why didn't you say anything, Watson?"
......I cleared my throat. "I always thought that you know how I feel about it, I just finally realized you don't care."
......Holmes stood up, went to the door and turned around. "I'm going to talk to Miss Hunter. Don't wait up." He looked away. "And you're wrong, my dear Watson, I do care." and with that he left.
......I closed my eyes. I really didn't understand the man. Not at all. After a while I opened my eyes again and looked at the coffee table. The tea was cold and forgotten and the leather case was gone.
 

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