Friday morning he's wide awake as cocaine kicks in.
Violently opens his bedroom door,
Annoyed that Watson continues to snore,
He goes downstairs to his kit 'n'
Skulks in like a sneak thief,
Quietly opening up a key,
Shooting up, high as can be.

He
(Never will feel more alive)
Is peaking
(He and Watson don't have wives)
Stoned
(He's got the best stuff that money can buy)
He's peaking, stoned,
Some speak that he has boned
Watson and he's queer.
He's breached by Holmes?
Guy guy?

Watson's sore, doesn't like
How his partner's getting down.
Dresses down Holmes, such a pious square;
Warns him, "Atone; of hypos beware,
You'll break down. . ." Holmes would be the husband
If these lads back-door-spawn.
Watson says, "On your back's a monkey;
From this scourge I'll set you free."

He
(Gets his black bag off the shelf)
Starts leeching
(Several latch on, start to delve)
Holmes
(Holmes struggles hard to stop bites; he's too high)

He's leeching Holmes, going to sieve him of jones
Scored so many years.
He's leeching Holmes, high guy.

Friday evening Watson takes stock:
His partner is gray.
Maybe with the leech anointment he made
A leach mistake; wan Holmes moans for aid.

He
(Still lets them chew; that was wrong)
Is leeching
(He has left them on too long). Done,
Done's the man who spent money to get high

Nothing's inside; Holmes is completely dried
The poor man is sere.
Bye, bye.

He's leeching Holmes, dry guy.