alaylith: (empty)
[personal profile] alaylith
Title: Where you belong
Theme: Watson's Woes WAdvent 2016 #18
Rating: General Audiences
Universe: ACD
Characters: Holmes, Watson
WordCount: 460
Summary: Holmes comes home after a long day and Watson has waited for him. Or tried to.

A/N: Sadly just a short version of what I originally had planned, but the last few weeks have been stressful and on top of that I have been sick for the last two. Nevertheless, I hope you like this little story and I wish you all a very happy Christmas! :D


The door opens slowly without any sound and Holmes slips inside quietly, closing the door behind himself. He listens for a moment but can hear no sounds from Mrs. Hudson's rooms and he sighs in relief, before slowly taking up the stairs.
He stops in front of his door and looks to the closed door of the living room. He smiles tiredly when he sees the slight glimmer of light beneath the door.

Carefully he opens the door to their shared living room and looks inside, his eyes immediately searching for the one man he knows to be there. The only person ever to stay up waiting for him.
He shakes his head fondly as he sees Watson sleeping in his chair in front of the dwindling fire, recalling his own words as he told Watson to not wait up for him as Holmes could not know if he would be able to return tonight.

And yet here they are - they are actually quite alike Holmes muses, after all, he did everything within his power to finish the case so he could return on time. He has turned into such a sentimental fool - all because of this man.
But he can not feel anything but gratitude about the fact.

Holmes walks over to Watson's desk and checks his open bag, seeing the missing medicine and used supplies within. A closer look at Watson's sleeping face shows the tiredness the day brought him, as the pain in his old wounds that haunt him even in his sleep.
A hard, tiring and painful day and yet Watson tried to stay up for him.

And his intention definitely was to wait, Holmes is sure of it - not only because he knows his Watson, but the small, wrapped present on the table between their chairs is more than enough proof of it.

Holmes closes the bag, then walks over to his friend and puts his own hand into his pocket to withdraw a small present. He kept it on his person all day and whenever he faltered in his work or when he was missing something in the case, a touch to the present anchored him and gave him the strength to continue.
He puts it beside the other present, gently covers Watson with a blanket and stokes the fire.

Then Holmes sits down in his own chair with a tired sigh, feeling himself relax for the first time in hours. The sudden chiming of the clock rouses him once more as it announces the beginning of the new day and he smiles warmly as he looks over to Watson.

"Merry Christmas, my dear Watson," he murmurs lowly and then closes his eyes to go to sleep himself.

He is finally where he belongs.

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