"Why does my heart go on beating?
Why do these eyes of mine cry?
Don't they know it's the end of the world?~"
11th of May, 1891
Today I awoke early and well rested, unlike the days before. Today felt different- I was ridiculously cheerful. I found the strength to tidy up a little and even was relaxed enough to sit down and read. It was almost seeming unrealistic, that now after so grievous days I should be feeling that normal all of a sudden. Had anything happened overnight, like a spell cast over me?
But the magic wouldn't last all day: In the evening, I became more and more restless. It had started to rain, and this scenery seemed to intensify my bad feelings.
Didn't Dr. Watson say he'd arrive soon? 5 days had passed since I received his telegram...
I decided to make some tea to calm me down. When I carried it into the sitting room, I suddenly heard there was someone at the door. I would not have run there quicker if the devil himself had been chasing me. Breathlessly, I opened the door.
In front of me I saw a figure, with rain dripping from his hat brim and all over his face and clothes as well. I opened the door fully and let him step in.
He took off his hat and it was no one else than a most pitiable looking Dr. Watson:
Being wet all over and obviously afflicted. He looked at me with a grave face and said nothing but: "Good evening, Rebecca."
To him I said, blushing slightly out of the joy of finally seeing a familiar face: "It's... uhm... good to have you back.- Come, I guess you can probably use a cup of tea and a fire in the hearth."
I hung up his coat and we went into the sitting room where he let himself sink into his armchair. After some silence, as I poured him a cup of tea, I couldn't help but urge him: "Please- tell me what has happened! After reading the telegram, I worried every single minute!"
Watson looked at me with downcast eyes: "Sorry, I didn't want to upset you that much with it."
"Oh goodness!", I burst out, "Tell me! I can't stand it anymore! I just need to know!"
He gave a sorrowful sigh and averted his eyes from me, staring into the fire:
"I'm so sorry, Rebecca." Every word seemed to cause him physical pain. "I couldn't keep my promise to watch over him. Holmes is... He's..."
His voice broke due to tears that took over.
I stared at him, still unable to grasp the full meaning of this words. "Oh... no...."
My legs suddenly felt weak, and I broke down, but he managed to catch me before I fell. He maneuvered me into a chair, and quickly poured me a glass of water.
"Everything alright?", he asked softly, bowing down to me. I sobbed and collapsed into his arms. I could feel his shirt getting wet due to my tears. We just stood there, both of us crying.
It couldn't be! It just couldn't be.
He couldn't... just be dead. It seemed impossible- yet I knew it wasn't.
Reality was, that the best detective, the best companion and the best man we ever knew was gone. The most cruel thing in this moments was that it felt so unreal but we knew it to be the most bitter truth. I was desperate.
It felt like the end of the world.