It hardly seems a choice. Watson's life sounds exceedingly dull, and what would he do? He can hardly be the British government, and if Watson isn't idle enough to be a general practitioner, then he isn't idle enough to be a general practitioner's spouse. All the same, he is apprehensive about putting himself into a line of work that had previously led him to use drugs.
"I can't fathom retiring," he admits, reaching up to trace Watson's mouth lightly. "Not yet. My only concern is... Well, could you keep your morphine, things like that, somewhere else in the house? Or somewhere else entirely. A life of idleness would not help my predilection to chemical enhancement, but I am concerned that a return to an active life would leave me in search for more of that... vigor."
He exhales. That had been a difficult thing to ask.
"What about you?" he murmurs, happy to turn to a better subject. "Would you be willing to leave your patients to their sneezes and coughs and run out with me to a crime scene at a moment's notice?"
no subject
"I can't fathom retiring," he admits, reaching up to trace Watson's mouth lightly. "Not yet. My only concern is... Well, could you keep your morphine, things like that, somewhere else in the house? Or somewhere else entirely. A life of idleness would not help my predilection to chemical enhancement, but I am concerned that a return to an active life would leave me in search for more of that... vigor."
He exhales. That had been a difficult thing to ask.
"What about you?" he murmurs, happy to turn to a better subject. "Would you be willing to leave your patients to their sneezes and coughs and run out with me to a crime scene at a moment's notice?"