The Last Romantics

A Dangerous State To Be In

Victor didn't seem to be doing much writing these days, and I had made it my goal to observe what he was doing instead. Well instead of fussing over a piece of parchment he seemed instead to be preoccupied with his bottles of laudanum, occasionally shooting that syringe into his arms at odd hours of the day. When I asked him what he needed the drug for he insisted it was for the creative process, though his creative process seemed to be stifled by his lack of true motivation. Instead of bothering with poetry he seemed all together obsessed with his dreams, and spent most of his time sleeping upon the couch and offering almost no company for me any longer. I couldn't help but assume he was feeling some sort of depression, seeing as though he was facing the consequences of training up his own competition, now having officially yielded to my own powers of poetry while his own stifled away. Though it wasn't all together my fault that he couldn't write a word! It seems as though he was being stopped only be his own lack of motivation, and all the time that he wasted lazing around on his furniture or complaining to me about the weather was time that he should have been spending instead with his quill, writing down the continuation of his legacy. It was difficult to respect him in those days, and so what I could not get out of Victor I instead replaced with the company of John Watson. Thankfully the man was not so difficult to find, and altogether impossible to bore. I began to take him to lunch almost every day, spending the money out of my own pocket to entertain the both of us for those short hours of freedom. While John was not on any nautical adventures as of now he was still quite busy at the shipyard, getting tasked with moving crates, getting ships ready to sail, painting, scrubbing, oh basically all of the nastiest jobs the shipyard could offer. And in recompense he was only offered a handful of change, a pitiful wage for a man who appeared to have emerged from the depths of hell each and every time I collected him. All the same that smile never wavered, and the enthusiasm I was met with each and every day seemed to plummet me farther and farther down whichever hole I had found myself in. I was becoming tethered to John Watson, dedicated heart and soul, and before long I found I was hopelessly in love. So much so, indeed, that I thought it at last necessary to confess so someone. Well I was left really with a single option; for I had no other acquaintances save for Victor. He made a rather quiet confidant, though I knew that I could perhaps trust him with such a secret. Besides, through all I had learned these couple of months I knew that my host was just as peculiar, and should he decide to go to the police with my secret then I shall do him one better and tell them about his particular espied with Mr. James Moriarty. I figured we both had too much to lose, and so another secret shared between us certainly wouldn't do any harm. We sat together at dinner as we always did, Victor having taken the seat across from me tonight and seeming rather disinterested with the meat pie he was trying to dissect with his fork and knife. I sat quietly, not even attempting to eat my food, when at last I decided it was best to get this horrible feeling out of my chest, I needed to confide in someone or my feelings may very well eat me alive.
"Victor, I'm afraid I've fallen in love." I admitted at last. Victor looked up sharply, his eyes narrowing and his hands going motionless.
"That's a dangerous state to be in." he muttered in response, and went on with his dinner.
"Well I'm seeking advice, most of all. I want to know what to do, and you seem to be the expert on such matters." I asked again, leaning forward so that I could keep my voice a bit lower. I knew the servants would be prowling around, and from first hand experience I knew Mrs. Turner to be quite the gossip.
"Who is it?" Victor wondered, not seeming to tread lightly about such a matter. Well that was why I went to him, I suppose. To make sure this wasn't treated like some game.
"John Watson." was my simple answer. He sighed, surely he had suspected as much.
"Yes, our favorite man on the other side of the wealth gap." Victor agreed. "I was worried you might say that."
"Why?" I wondered. "He's a perfectly respectable man, kind, handsome. He seems to be quite ideal."
"Well he's got that Mary girl, hasn't he?" Victor pointed out. "There are always obstacles to things like this, love between men has so many terrible troubles."
"I asked him the other day if he was interested in Mary. He said that he looked at her more like a sister, and had no intentions of marrying her. I figured that was a good sign. She's beautiful; anyone with a chance at her heart really should take it unless they have strong reasons not to." I pointed out, as if that was a valid reason to suspect his cooperation in the matter. All the same, Victor chuckled.
"I'm sure he has, though I'm also sure you are not that reason." He pointed out.
"Perhaps not at first. But we've met together nearly every day this week, and each time he looks equally thrilled." I pointed out. Victor sighed heavily, casting aside his silverware as if they were of no use to him and folding his hands pointedly on the table. His eyes looked serious, though his face read of something else...something more of inconvenience.
"So perhaps you have found a friend, Sherlock. You must find out if you truly have found a lover before you make any foolish moves. The last thing we want is General Morstan on our tails." Victor scoffed.
"And how should I do that?" I wondered at last. Victor thought for a moment, his long fingers tapping in some rhythm against the table cloth.
"Well...perhaps you can test your limits? Perhaps John Watson would be comfortable if you held his hand, but only if he was interested. Try that. See how much of him you can touch before he gets uncomfortable." Victor suggested.
"That sounds awfully bold." I admitted, wondering just how much I could get away with before I was ultimately kicked away and shunned.
"Well you're trying to be bold, are you not? This is a bold choice, with terrifying consequences. Best start slow." Victor suggested. I nodded, listening intently.
"Is this how you go about it then?" I wondered, to which Victor chuckled a bit sarcastically.
"Me? Well to be quite honest I'm always quite forward." Victor admitted. "Though I never go about it unless I'm sure my advances are welcome. I would not suggest you use that tactic, as your flirtatious skills are admittedly lacking."
"I could flirt, surely." I complained, though I wasn't entirely sure how much evidence I had to support that claim. Victor hummed, obviously not convinced.
"Were you not in love with me when we first met?" he asked at last, to which I felt most of my color drain from my face.
"What on earth does that have to do with it?" I stammered, to which the man rolled his eyes in some annoyance.
"Well it has everything to do with it, Sherlock. If John Watson knows without you directly telling him, well then the game is up. He holds the next move and you are powerless but to face the consequences of your actions." Victor insisted.
"Well...well if he already knows? Perhaps he's interested as well, and is just deciding how best to go about it." I suggested a bit weakly, to which Victor laughed again. Obviously he could tell that my romantic skills were lacking, which in all honesty was the terrible truth. I was not very good at playing these strange games, especially not with boys who did not know my intentions. Would John go running to Mary's father, the very man who could hang both Victor and I for crimes we had no choice but to commit? No I did not think John capable. He liked me, perhaps he did not love me but maybe he could grow to? I figured it was worth a shot, at least to try my hand at a change of luck. Life would be a lot easier with a boy on my arm, especially if he was only too eager to be there.
"Alright then." I decided at last, taking Victor's lack of a response as a sign that he didn't plan to offer up any more insight. "I'll try tomorrow, I'll take him to the meadow."
"Oh how romantic." Victor chuckled.
"Be quiet, Victor. You're so brutal; can't you just understand that I'm trying to live my life? Just because you're so confident and perfect doesn't mean that everyone else can just waltz their way into paradise." I snarled.
"Walk their way in? And how, pray, did you end up in the life you now lead?" Victor wondered, his voice hardening and my confidence slipping. Perhaps I should have chosen better words, had I wanted to make a more valid point.
"Well for one thing I almost died." I added quickly.
"But in the end, you did walk. So when you complain to me about having some troubled life, remember who is giving you the life you're currently enjoying. And perhaps you might stop to consider what I did to get here, considering it wasn't just a walk in the park." Victor snarled, and with that he got to his feet a bit agressivley, sliding the heavy wooden chair out from underneath him and throwing his napkin down on the table.
"Victor, I'm not trying to say you've never struggled, I'm just saying I think you're underestimating my struggle!" I exclaimed, calling after him but in vain. "Not everyone has the confidence to take what they want!" Oh it was no use, he was already gone. And so I was cursed just to sit at the table alone, staring down at my dinner and feeling my stomach twisting and turning with the idea of tomorrow's task. I didn't know if getting John on my arm would be a success in the eyes of Victor or perhaps only another thing to make fun of me for. Either way I was determined, I figured that the worst that could happen was a prison sentence for the two of us. Perhaps a prison sentence would do nothing more than bring both poets down a level, considering we considered ourselves to be on top of the world without ever consulting with the world to make sure that our feelings were correct. Maybe a couple of years in prison would add some strain to our lives, just to make it interesting. And even if we got hung, which I wasn't sure was legal for such an offense anymore; well at least in that case we would go out with a show. We did love to be dramatic, didn't we?