While bridges still burn: VII

The lack of fresh air and motivation had made Holmes somewhat lazy. He spent his time curled in a ball upon Watson's chair, barely moving, just staring into the fire. It would appear that his depression had become more concentrated.

Watson watched, mostly from afar as he was much too busy with his own work. But he saw how lifeless the man had become, he read the scribbles on his desk and he pinpointed the exact way the man hugged his knees.

You will never burn. You don't know what it's like to burn; You are much to dead.


He was thinking too much.

**
"Holmes!"

Watson pulled the blanket from the man's grasp.

"What?" Came the answer, not so much as even one eye open, "Leave me in peace if you have nothing interesting to say."

"You need to get out of this room. We're taking a walk,"Watson took hold of Holmes' arm," Come now, up you get."

Holmes growled but rose from the chair. He threw on a coat and placed his hat upon his head, then stood waiting by the door.

"Come along then,doctor. Let's take this walk so I may return to my previous position of ignorance."

"Mrs Hudson will have supper prepared for when we return." Watson said as they stepped into the night air.

"I am not overly hungry. I doubt I will feel any better after this walk."

"You will eat, Holmes."

They continued in silence to one of London's many public gardens. The area was deserted, possibly because of the time of day, and was only lit by gas lamps. It was eerie and silent, bar the squeaks of crows here and there and it was just the environment Holmes enjoyed. His mind may be busy with other dark thoughts, but he was able to deduce without fail why Watson had brought him here, of all places. Mentally, he prepared himself for what he was about to endure.

"How are -"

"Don't avoid the true meaning of this walk. Go on, give me your worst."

Watson raised an eyebrow ," What meaning? I simply want to talk."

"So talk, don't ask questions you know the answers to. Tell me I'm being a fool so I can go home and be a fool in front of the fire."

"Holmes, I can not watch you stare into those blasted flames any more. There is a case waiting for you in Scotland Yard, you will take it and successfully solve it. If you do not shake this sadness off it will remain with you until you wither to nothing." Watson sighed, " I brought you out here for fresh air and exercise. It was not for a lecture."

"Sadness? That's what this is? A little dark cloud of sadness." Holmes chuckled and bowed his head, " This is not sadness!"

They stopped by the edge of the garden lake, no doubt scaring the sleeping ducks. Watson sat upon a bench and encouraged his friend to do the same, but the man stood firm.

"Sit." The doctor tried again.

"I am happy where I am, thank you."

"Must you always be stubborn?"

"This is not a simple sadness!" Holmes growled.

"Holmes - "

"No! You yourself have called this a depression. That is much deeper than a sadness. Sad is what I am after a failed case or if one of my experiments dons't go to plan. Depressed is what I am now. Hopeless, empty, a block of agony pushing against my chest, crushing my lungs and heart. Need I continue or are you still convinced that my sadness will pass if I simply 'will' it away?" The detective stopped to light his pipe and take in the expression upon his dear doctor's face, "As for your case, I'll take it. I will solve it and then I shall go back to my 'sadness'."

Watson rose from where he sat and stood nose to nose with Holmes. He took hold of his upper arms.

"I am trying to help! I am trying despite your reluctance to pull yourself from this state."

"I can not pull myself from this, John!" Holmes yelled.

"You don't want to! You like the attention I'm giving you. But I can not mother you for ever Holmes and what we had is gone. It is dead. You ruined it!"

Blinded by rage, Holmes hit him hard across the jaw. Watson stumbled back, doubled over and hands cupped to his face.

"I ruined nothing!" Holmes cried.

"You are a cold hearted swine! I have told you once, and I will tell you until you listen; your drugs meant more to you than I ever did!"

Watson kicked Holmes hard in the stomach. The man reciporated with another blow to Watson face and a sharp boot to his diaphragm.  The doctor knelt upon the ground, holding his waist and spitting blood onto the gravel.

"Holmes, p-please calm down."

"You kicked me!"

"You assaulted me. I was not about to sit down and allow you to do so! Must you solve everything with violence?"

Holmes lifted him up by the lapel of his jacket.

" This is not helping, Holmes!"

"Damn what is helping!" The detective threw Watson onto his back and trapped his left arm beneath his boot.

"S-Sherlock-"

Holmes smashed his fist against Watson's nose and again at at his forehead.  He grinded his boot against Watson's shoulder blade, the man cried out and begged for his mercy.

"Y-you have to cease this. Please? Sher-"

The detective stared down at his companion. His face was blooded and dirty with gravel, his nose was clearly broken and his left eye bruised. Holmes swallowed another wave of anger. Watson coughed and spat blood from his mouth.

"W-what have I done?" Holmes' voice shook with tears, "Oh, Watson my dear fellow, I - I am so sorry."

The doctor was already struggling to his feet, but Holmes wrapped both arms around his frame. He lifted Watson to his feet and supported his weight.

"I have no energy left to be angry at you, Holmes."