Analysis Of 'Master Holmes'

“Mr. Holmes,” they call you, pulling you out of your reverie of your younger days filled with laughter, books and only two young boys, “You may see him now.”
They lead you down a corridor, distance eaten up by your long strides, your umbrella a faithful companion. You see frames of artwork on your right, but it does not interest you, nay, it was the left that enraptures your mind. The setting sun gives a golden glow to the trees outside that sheds their leaves, the seasons slowly transitioning to follow their cycle.
The image vividly reminds you of another lifetime, when you led a lonely childhood in a cavernous mansion where only your echoes were your playmates, until one winter night. The butler knocked your door, ‘Master Holmes’, he called you, ‘your presence is required in the main hall’, he
You want to hate him for doing this to you. For letting you know now, when he had been hospitalized for months, when he had been battling himself for as long. For calling you at the 11th hour when he clearly knows there is nothing you could possibly do. You wonder whether this is his ultimate revenge, after he was always so childish and petty.
With a deep breath, you leave your umbrella by the door, and take a seat by the bed. Your eyes trace his features many times over, memorizing them. Your hand brushes over his like a breath, and you find a finger of yours immediately seized. You look at him in surprise, but his eyes are still closed, his breath still slow.
The two of you stay in silence, the passing of time counted by the number of breaths taken by the younger. It was comfortable and familiar. Like the age old days when it was just you and him. But your mind races, while he stays asleep, drugged. You scoff. How you hate it! You always knew it would be the bane of him. It would one day destroy him, kill him. Take him away from you. Leave you all alone in this