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• One of the unpublished ones	By : Queen1973 Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Sherlock Holmes > Slash > Slash Views: 9229 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
  Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on the Sherlock Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

• Chapter List
  • 1-One of the unpublished ones
• • 1

• Author's note: A kinda sweet story. Section from Watson's journal on a case that was not published. Hence the title. Not beta'd. Maybe I continue the story in the near future.
  
  ~~~
  
  I have been sitting at the fireplace, reading the morning issue I only quickly looked over before we rushed off here, to the country side, to try and solve this odd new mystery.
  
  The moment we entered the guest room which was prepared for us to sleep in, my friend settled in the armchair at the fireplace, knees drawn to his chest. Seeing that he will probably spend the next few hours in his thoughts (disregarding my advice to rest) and would prefer not to be disturbed, I sat myself across from him and began reading the newspapers. Until I was interrupted by a sound of light snoring…
  
  I peered over the edge of the newspapers only to see my friend with his head resting on his knees.
  "Holmes?" I asked quietly. No answer. I put away the papers and leaned towards my friend. "Holmes?" Still no answer. I got up and tapped him lightly on the shoulder.
  "Ah?!" His head snapped up. Eyes wide open, he looked around the room quickly, then rest his gaze on me.
  
  "Holmes, really." I frowned and tried to sound as stern as possible. "This is not doing any good to your health." He looked away and waved his hand at me.
  
  "You are tired." I was adamant. "You solved three cases with no rest between them. You lost weight. I say, Holmes, you need sleep. And a good breakfast in the morning." He rolled his eyes at me.
  
  "Watson..."
  "Watson, nothing!" I wasn't going to stand this. "As your friend, your doctor and your senior, I demand, no, I /order/ you to undress and go to bed!" His eyebrows shot up and now that I think of it, there seems to be a small tint of red to his cheeks for a brief second as he looked straight at me. Then he pursed his lips in an attempt not to laugh. Crossing my arms on my chest, I told him (trying my best to sound like a mother scolding a child) I was in no mood for any nonsense on his part.
  "Well, Watson, since you insist..." With a smile he went into the adjoining bathroom to undress. I sat down again, with a huff, and took the newspapers back into my lap. He chuckled a few times while he changed into his nightshirt and as he laid down. Only when I saw his chest rise and fall evenly did I start reading again.
  
  I glanced at him a few times while I read. Holmes was restless even in his sleep. Tossing and turning all around. You would think the exhaustion would have him sleep like a log, but no. By the time I got to the end of the last column that interested me, he settled into an awkward sleeping position. He was on his stomach, one knee bend, his long nightshirt pulled up slightly above his knees and his left arm hanging off the edge of the bed. He was lightly snoring, again. The blanket was on the floor.
  
  I sighed and folded the papers neatly. I put them on the small table, walked across the room to his bed, picked up the blanket and flung it over my shoulder. Then I moved to the other side of his bed. I put my hands around his chest and pulled him a bit to the middle of it, careful not to wake him. I covered and tucked him in the blanket. For the sake of his health.
  
  Finally, I prepared myself for sleep and laid down on my own bed. Holmes had his both hands under his chin, now, clenching the corner of his cover like a child. I smiled at that and then wandered off into the dream land.

• • 1
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