An easy coexistence

The 4th symphony

London - July 1881:

Dr. John. H. Watson. :

Those days were very peaceful when solitude used to cling to my daily routine. However, if it were in my hands, if my economic situation gave me the freedom to choose between yesterday and today, I would choose today a thousand times.

Today I share with Holmes our treasure which is 221B. At first I was afraid of having to share a flat, yes it is true that it was good for me financially and that I definitely needed company beyond my leaves and my pens, but that did not take away the fear. I met Holmes one afternoon through a mutual acquaintance and didn't have a chance to get to know him beyond a couple of sad empty sentences, but I don't regret my choices. No sir!

How could I regret it? Really living with Holmes was as easy as living with an independent feline.

He woke up earlier than me, had breakfast and left; I would never run into it in the mornings and when it happened I was really happy. He was in his armchair, with his pipe in his mouth, waiting for me to wake up dressed in his black pajamas, his old blue robe and his slippers with worn soles; and when he saw me leave the room, he got up with an energy worthy of a person diagnosed with hyperactivity, showed me his dental pearls in a unique smile (I think I only saw him smile at me), put out his pipe and left it on the fireplace so that together we could go down to breakfast with Mrs. Hudson.

His breakfast was always cold when we went down together, because Holmes did not notify our dearest housekeeper of his tardiness, so his food always sat alone since 6:20.

– Let me reheat your toast and your beloved coffee. –

– It won't be necessary Mrs. Hudson, that's perfect. –

When Holmes was not at home, he did not return until the afternoon, sometimes even late at night or early in the morning. However, there were days when he stayed at home without even dressing, he walked around the living room in his bathrobe, reading or composing on his violin. In those days a small man, with a rather rat-like face and a slight beard, arrived at 221B and Holmes, embarrassed, asked my forgiveness and begged me to let him use the room to serve his client. This, his client, was introduced to me as Detective Inspector Lestrade, who in just one week came to visit my partner four times, another Detective Inspector, Lestrade's partner, named Gregson, came to Becker Street three other times. the same week. That is to say, Holmes was not free for a single day. I don't know what Holmes does for a living but it must be a very demanding job if he isn't left alone for a single day.

–Holmes, Inspector Lestrade is here again. –

– Thank you Ms. Hudson. Come on, let it go. – He looked at Watson with a disappointed look, he didn't want his partner to leave the place just because of that. – Watson... Can you... –

– Of course Holmes, good luck with your client. –

Watson entered his room before Lestrade reached the living room.

Honestly, I find it irritating to know that I'm not the only one privileged to see Holmes in a dressing gown.

I have always had problems falling asleep, however, since living with Holmes it has become really easy for me. Every night, after 10:00 p.m., Holmes watched me standing while I lay on the couch.

– Isn't Watson sleepy? – I smiled, because I knew what it meant.

– Not really my dear friend. – He smiled, because he knew what it meant.

With violin in hand, I began, like every night, to play the 4th Symphony by Johannes Brahms, my favorite melody.

I loved watching how his fingers moved with a grace, elegance, softness and touch typical of my partner. As if his hands were skillful butterflies fluttering in the wind and caressing the soft petals of spring flowers, usinghis wings to propel himself among the heavens dominated under his greatness. I couldn't help it, like every night, I fell hypnotized by his movements.

His manly bearing; He was thin and tall, but strong, although no stronger than me; His tranquility caught my attention, I wanted to get closer, I really did, but my eyes closed, like every night. Today was a night like every night, like every melody, like every time of sleeping.

But this night is eternally different from all nights, it is a night that I will always remember after the first 15 minutes of melody. Holmes stopped playing, I was not asleep yet, but my tiredness made me remain with my eyes closed. I was about to fall asleep, really; He was also about to wake up, really. I have been in a moment of lucidity in which nothing and everything that has happened can be true.

The melody stopped playing and I felt the presence of my partner near me.

– Rest Watson... I love you... –

I felt a pressure on my lips, it was soft and tasted like tea and tobacco, a caress was given on my cheek before the pressure dissipated. For a moment, I felt his warm breath on my face before falling asleep. The next day I woke up in my bed, covered up to my neck with the sheets and when I came out, Holmes was on his armchair, with his pipe, his black pajamas, his old blue dressing gown and his slippers with worn soles, again, he smiled at me like every morning.

In that smile were those beautiful pearly teeth, those sharp, pale cheekbones and those lips... soft... flavor of tea and tobacco. I don't know if what I experienced was real, I don't know if it was a dream, but I hope I can find out without anyone getting hurt. My sister, Harriet, got caught with her girlfriend last year, two women... threw them off the top of the bell tower, these are tough times for us "deviant" ones.

I saw him more closely, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, his hands always moved with inexplicable tact and softness between the toast, spreading it lightly. Her robe was old but it highlighted her waist as it was tied from something above her hips, I wanted to touch it, I really wanted to wrap my arms around that waist, replace the stupid belt of the robe with my arms. Even though I don't like the belt, I can't guarantee that it will hold your clothes well.

I love you Holmes.

– Watson, stop writing and have breakfast, it is the most important meal of the day. – Watson smiled at him and put his pencil away to continue eating breakfast. Soon, his eyes fell on a newspaper that had an article marked with a pencil. He picked up the newspaper to read it. If his partner had marked it, it meant it was something important or of extreme interest.

...

London - August 1913:

Dr. John. H. Watson:

It's been 32 years since my first case with you Holmes "A Study in Scarlet".

We're older now, you're 60 and I'm almost 70. We've embarked on hundreds of adventures together, and I'm really glad to still be alive after all, although maybe it's not something I can enjoy out there. If you read this, it means that I have died since I have asked you in my will to deliver this letter.

Holmes, I don't know how, I never had the courage to tell him, fear runs through my veins, you know that I am rather nervous by nature. I love you Holmes. I have always loved him.

Your intelligence, your courage... I admit Holmes that I married Mary so I could forget you but I still can't forget, with each passing day, you become more interesting in my eyes.

Not only have it been 32 years since our first case, I seem to remember, but it has also been 32 years since our first and last kiss, since our first and last "I love him."

It may seem silly to Holmes, but I would give anything to hear Johannes Brahms's 4th Symphony again from his own violin and skill, I would give anything to be almost again.asleep and I would give anything to feel the taste of tea and tobacco again. I remember it as if it were yesterday. Holmes, I love you.

With love

Dr. John. H. Watson.

In the letter itself, a couple of tears that were impossible to chain fell into the depths of her eyes, escaping outwards with great ease.

Holmes folded the letter and put it away lovingly, but not before leaving a kiss on it.

He had not planned to go to the funeral, he did not want to see anyone when he was immersed in his own pain, however, there he showed up, violin in hand.

Lestrade and Gregson gave him their support because it didn't take a genius to notice the sensitive state of the teary-eyed detective.

He approached the grave, he was the closest to the coffin at the funeral and once the priest stopped his words, he began his melody, his favorite song, the 4th Symphony.