Third Person: He watched his best friend... the wisest man he'd ever known... die, before his very eyes. They'd locked gazes the moment Watson stepped through the door - he hadn't known what to expect when he walked onto the balcony of the falls, not really, but even with Holmes' last words to him ringing in the back of his mind, the thought of actually losing him was not in his thoughts - and as soon as Sherlock had closed his eyes, pushed off the wall and over... Watson's heart felt like it'd stopped beating, for the briefest of moments. Lost in time. Lost over the falls.
Moving from that spot was like accepting reality, and it was something he refused to do for a good long while before Sim came to collect him, lost in her own misery after the loss of her brother. He stumbled and turned to her, mouth open as if to speak words, but none came.
None came for some time.
He'd been at Sherlock Holmes' side for so long, for so many years, that the thought of actually losing him to a case was quite simply preposterous. They had lived a dangerous life, always on the edge, always a hair's breath away from a wrong move here, or a too-low swipe of a blade there, but luck had always been on their side.
Did you call me a selfish bastard?
Probably.
He was. He did. The selfish, selfish bastard. There had been other ways, there must have been - there was no reason he'd had to - it just didn't add up. Watson had been right there, right in the other room. He could have called for him and he'd -
But there was no use in dwelling. He knew there wasn't, but he couldn't help himself. Every stray thought, every innocent manner of every day life reminded Watson of his friend no matter how much Mary tried to console him. He appreciated her efforts, he truly did, but he was still angry. Hurt.
He should have pulled away from Sherlock Holmes sooner - perhaps it would have softened the numbness in his chest at the loss. But John Watson knew, deep down that he could never do that, not really.
{ [CANON] Sherlock Holmes Guy Ritchie Movieverse || John Watson | Expired Reserve || 2 of 2 }
Third Person: He watched his best friend... the wisest man he'd ever known... die, before his very eyes. They'd locked gazes the moment Watson stepped through the door - he hadn't known what to expect when he walked onto the balcony of the falls, not really, but even with Holmes' last words to him ringing in the back of his mind, the thought of actually losing him was not in his thoughts - and as soon as Sherlock had closed his eyes, pushed off the wall and over... Watson's heart felt like it'd stopped beating, for the briefest of moments. Lost in time. Lost over the falls.
Moving from that spot was like accepting reality, and it was something he refused to do for a good long while before Sim came to collect him, lost in her own misery after the loss of her brother. He stumbled and turned to her, mouth open as if to speak words, but none came.
None came for some time.
He'd been at Sherlock Holmes' side for so long, for so many years, that the thought of actually losing him to a case was quite simply preposterous. They had lived a dangerous life, always on the edge, always a hair's breath away from a wrong move here, or a too-low swipe of a blade there, but luck had always been on their side.
Did you call me a selfish bastard?
Probably.
He was. He did. The selfish, selfish bastard. There had been other ways, there must have been - there was no reason he'd had to - it just didn't add up. Watson had been right there, right in the other room. He could have called for him and he'd -
But there was no use in dwelling. He knew there wasn't, but he couldn't help himself. Every stray thought, every innocent manner of every day life reminded Watson of his friend no matter how much Mary tried to console him. He appreciated her efforts, he truly did, but he was still angry. Hurt.
He should have pulled away from Sherlock Holmes sooner - perhaps it would have softened the numbness in his chest at the loss. But John Watson knew, deep down that he could never do that, not really.
A loyal dog to the end.