Rating : G
Word Count : 693 (simple little drabble!)
Summary : Crying!Holmes and Silly!Fic
I've had this one finished for a while now, and finally decided to fix it up a bit and post it. Enjoy!
This is #26 of the 100 Challenge I'm still working away at.
For the third night in a row, Holmes paced restlessly around our rooms, a hand to his chin as he relayed back to me for the third time the events of the case. I kept to myself, sitting in my usual chair in front of our fireplace, reading my paper as I idly listened to what Holmes had to explain.
“Really, it is all very simple, but the variables do not add up as one would suspect,” he whispers, his forehead wrinkled in a way that I have rarely seen upon his features and his eyebrows knitted together above his eyes in a most grimacing manner.
Holmes set himself to stand by the window, glancing outside through the curtains while he kept a hand to his chin, thinking deeply upon the case.
“If only that message would get here! It is so vital, so necessary! There is only so much time that can pass before Lestrade has his man, and the wrong man at that! Justice will not be served if anymore time is--”
Holmes cut himself off, his hand gently moving over his lips as his eyes softened. His piercing gray eyes continued to stare out at Baker street, but something other than the case now stirred in his mind.
At first I believed Holmes to have stumbled upon a new thought that would lead to the conclusion of the case since such a thing had happened many times before. Upon seeing his features, I knew it was far more complex than that. I completely abandoned my paper to the side table and my attentions were placed upon Holmes' expression. His brow was smooth from the earlier lines of over thinking, and his eyes seemed to be complete pools of liquid. It was not until I saw a single tear stream down the side of his face and run along his jawline that I stood up and closed the small distance between ourselves.
Holmes stayed still as I held him close, a free hand stroking the back of his neck. Clearly he was upset to the brink of tears at the thought of a man being thrown in jail when he was unmistakably innocent of any crime. This had been the first time I had seen Holmes blending together his mind with his emotions; so deep in a case that he had been careless enough to let the smallest of emotions slip by. I assumed that Holmes was just happy enough that he wasn't in Lestrade's company when this tear had decided to show itself.
“Of course the man is innocent,” I whispered to Holmes soothingly, my fingers gently massaging the back of his neck tenderly as I did my best to ease the stress from his body. “You will find some way to prove it, you always do, Holmes,” I try to smile reassuringly, but it is the tears in his eyes that have me fighting back my own sorrow that wells up within me.
I clear my throat and then reach into my pocket for my handkerchief. “Now, dry your eyes,” I say as I hand the fabric to him.
Holmes took the handkerchief from my hand, and nodded his head quietly. “Thank you, doctor. I don't know what I would do without you,” he smiled faintly, and I could not help but notice the slurred voice that now emitted from Holmes' mouth. “I am quite lucky to have you. All that needs to be done to hear such words of encouragement and be granted such kind and loving touches from you is to accidentally bite my tongue. Quite the doctor you are, Watson, healing with words instead of with treatments. Though I fear your initial diagnosis may be inexact.”
I stared quietly at Holmes, finally realizing that the tears I had saw did not originate from any deeper emotion at all.
Holmes patted my shoulder, then moved away from our embrace. “I think I will see if Mrs. Hudson has any ice for my poor tongue. This is what happens when I chose to talk instead of keeping my thoughts in my mind where they should stay,” he smiled.