(back to Part 5)
I decide I’d better continue talking as long as I still dare to do so. After a few deep breaths I take (figuratively spoken) the plunge into the dephts of openness.
“My brother Mycroft…”, I begin, slowly, measuring every word. “I have already told you about the way he is leading his life. Secluded. Without much contact to the public. The impersonated enigma. Few people know about the relation between him and me. Remember how long it had taken even you to find out that I have a brother.
Now, when I understood the urgency for me to obtain the funds for my exile, I contacted him. He had the means to provide for me – not only regarding the money, but also regarding the logistics. After all, he has the British Government behind him. I also thought his lifestyle and his position might render – per definitionem – some sort of protection against any possible schemes of Moriarty’s henchmen, should they find out that I was still alive. So I wrote to him instead of you.”
Watson is watching me. He does not interrupt me, but he has started to look more at ease, much more himself.
“When you accompanied me to Switzerland, three years ago”, I continue, “I soon began to scent the danger that surrounded us. And I knew I was not the only target person, meanwhile. By bringing you along, I had endangered your life severely, and I almost could not endure this thought. On our way to the Falls, when this presumed messenger came to lure you away from me, I did not doubt for a minute, that this had been Moriarty’s work. And I was more than glad to get you out of the line of fire.
You know what happened then. I decided to dissappear. From my hidden place at the Falls I watched you… and, believe me, it had been the hardest thing I had ever done and I will ever do to let you go away without any sign that I was still alive. Not very much unlike my dream – the difference being the fact that maybe my body would have allowed me to call out for you… but not my conscience! By that time I had promised myself that I would not let you become a target person for Moriarty’s men. I know you would not have let me go on my own if you knew I was alive. So I had you rather believing me dead than being in any further danger on my behalf.”
He has closed his eyes now, wiping his face with his right hand. I anxiously hope that when he will look at me again, I will be able to read from his features that he has not only forgiven me – but that he now also understands me. Otherwise I should see myself liable to dip in even deeper emotional waters – and that would be something quite outside my ususal range of experience.
~~~
“You know”, he says at length. “I believe there is a reason why Professor Moriarty had taken care to separate us before attacking you.” His voice sounds pensive now, but the tension seems finally gone, and so I feel relaxing myself a little.
“What do you mean?”
“Because he knew very well, that together we are stronger than separated.”
It is a simple statement, and I am glad beyond words that his expression and his tone do not contain a reproach.
“You are right”, I reply. “And I have learned that the hard way.”
He looks at me, then nods. “I am sure you did… but I must tell you, Holmes, as your friend and doctor, that you should really try to get yourself some sleep now.”
Ah! To hear this familiar admonition again, coming from his own mouth! Marvellous!
“Whatever the good doctor says”, I agree. “But you – do you feel allright?”
“Oh, I am fine”, he assures me. “After a few hours of additional sleep, a good breakfast and some strong coffee in the morning I will be almost as new. The rest can be discussed later.”
There suddenly seem to be some new tension. “The rest?”
“Yes.” He is hesitating. “Actually, I wish to consult you.”
This surely gets my by surprise! Obviously I should really drop the thought of him being always so predictable.
“The thing is, I could need your advice on some financial affairs. Nothing to worry about, but I would be interested in your opinion.”
Predictable? Watson? What a strange idea!
“Of course”, is all I can say.
“Splendid!”
And if I am not totally mistaken, I have just perceived a very slight and very quick grin on his face. He pulls the blanket a bit higher, exhales and adds, contentedly: “’Night, Holmes.”
“Good night, old boy.” How often have I envied him his ability to fall asleep thus easily… I am rising from my seat. “Oh – Watson?”
“Hm?”
“Would you mind me sitting here another moment before heeding doctor’s orders?”
“Not in the least.”
“Thank you.” I settle back, and it is only now I realise that he had not told me anything about his dream. Maybe he will, someday. But I think it is not that important anymore, as I have reason to hope his dreams now will change for the better…
(t.b.c.)
)…
