But How?

I stepped through the door to Baker Street for the second time that night. I really had no idea how I was going to start a conversation like this with Holmes. Thankfully I didn't have to be worried about Mrs. Hudson. She was long asleep by this hour. I moved up the stairs into the sitting room, looking for my partner.

“Holmes...?”

He was seated at the far side of the room with his chair turned toward the window. There was a wooden case just beside him and I could see that he was holding something. Cocain no doubt. I stalked forward, moving around the chair and taking hold of his hand. He hadn't had a chance to inject yet. I pulled the needle out of his hand, kneeling on ground in front of him. He refused to look at me.

“I'm sorry Watson.” He spoke softly. “I suppose you could never look at me the same again. Please.... Go on with life.”

I could say nothing. I knew he wouldn't listen now. Holmes was stubborn, but he couldn't argue was facts. I propped myself up on both my knees, despite the pain from my right. I took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me and before he could jerk it away, I leaned forward, kissing him. I leaned back a moment later, seeing tears run down his face. His eyes had been closed, but opened to look straight at me.

“But... How?”

“I love you, Holmes. Pure and simple.”

“But.. But you can't! Mary... You love Mary.”

“I think you already know I don't. I thought I did... But I know better now. I tried to love her...”

“What will you tell her? You can't ruin everything for me.”

“I don't know Holmes. I don;t know.” I still had my hands on his shoulders. “I'll find something...”

“You know this is illegal...”

“But Holmes... You need me.”

“More than you could ever know...”

I leaned forward, wrapping my arms around him. He let his head rest on my chest. His breathing sounded as though he could cry, but I knew he wouldn't. Holmes was one to keep his emotion hidden. I had always known he wasn't as cold as he seemed. He needed someone.

I would be there for him.

Hollow

I left. I had to leave. I turned on my heel, disappearing out the door in my best clothes. I didn't have a place to go, or anything else I could do at that time of night, I just had to go. I felt so Hollow, so confused. I stalked down the street, walking as far as my legs would take me. I had to think. I had to try and understand what all of this meant. He loves me, but how was I suppose to know what exactly that meant?

If it meant what I thought it meant, then I shouldn't be going back to Baker Street. Love such as that was unnatural and wrong. A man should never love another man. It was against the law and immoral. But then way was I compelled to go back? Was it because Holmes was my friend, or another reason? Could this stupid little twist be the reason I was hesitant to move in with Mary?

God it was true. I had tried so hard not admit it. So hard to hide it, but it was true. I had fallen in love with Sherlock Holmes! How could I have been so blind? I had lived with him for so long and he had frustrated me so much.. I couldn't help but love him.

I had to go back.

Baker Street

The door to 221b Baker Street was safely shut tight as I entered the sitting room. Holmes wasted no time in rushing about the house slamming all the windows shut tightly. He stepped into the center of the sitting room and lit his pipe, his eyes falling on me moments later.

“Did you enjoy the night, Watson?”

“It was entertaining to say the least... But Holmes what's going on? You're so out-of-sorts!”

“Have you liked living with me, Watson?” He asked me, very quietly.

“Of course I have, Holmes! What;s gotten into you?” I asked in some strange panic. I hated when he acted oddly.

“I have asked you to stay before...”

“You have, but you know I-”

“I realized that I have never given you a reason to stay, other than I wanted you too.”

“I assumed that you wanted company...”

By this time my heart was pumping. What was he getting at? What did he mean? He had a reason I should stay here? Aside from his unstable mind and his complete insanity and the fact that I was prepared to wake up some mornings to find him in my living room? Regardless of what it was, I wanted to know what it was.

“It wasn't company... Well it was...” Holmes' eyes darted up and down. “There is another, far stranger reason.”

“Will you please spit it out, Holmes? You're making me nervous!”

“Watson, the reason I want you to stay is... I need you!”

I just stared at him for a moment. “Holmes... You told me that a month ago.”

“You don't understand. I need you more than you know.”

I had to argue with him... “Holmes, you will be fine without me. I'm only going to be-”

“Watson you're not listening to me!”

“I am so, I just don;t-”

“That I'm trying to tell you is that I love you!”

He... Loves... Me?

Before The Show

I stayed relatively close to home after the morning Holmes had dragged me from my chair to read an article about an Orchestra. I'm sure he must not be well, the poor man. Perhaps I need to reconsider moving out? Put it off until a later date when he is a little more stable? But then,will he ever be?

He emerged once again today, but not until the late evening. He was dressed well for once, fully clad in his best suit. I was fairly well dressed myself, knowing I was going to a show. He greeted him and again he said very little. Nothing short of "Good evening" And "Our ride awaits." I followed him, still very concerned as to why he wasn't speaking. I had considered a sore throat, but his speaking was fine for the few words he said.

We climbed into the hansom and as it pulled away, Holmes stood and closed all the windows, making sure the door was sealed tight and sat across from me. I looked up at him, an eyebrow raised as he took a breath and began to speak.

"I've been considering this engagement of yours, my dear Watson. I have spent days thinking it over, in fact." I watched as he shifted. "I am a strange man, Watson. Of this I am sure you are aware. But the depths of my strange ways are not known to anyone, not even you."

I gave him the most confused look. I must have looked like a complete moron, but he continued anyways. "You must promises not to strike me, or leave me early should I tell you exactly how strange I am. Do you promises this?"

"Holmes. There isn't a single thing you could tell me that would make me think less of you." I tried to assure him, but his eyes fell to the ground.

"We shall see after the show."

He refused to say another word until after the show was over. He would not tell me what this was about. Not until we were safely back in Baker Street.

It Emerges! Still Odd...

Today, just shortly after breakfast, Sherlock Holmes appeared from his room for the first time in five days.

I had been begging him to come out for two days, concerned for the fact that he had been eating very little. He sung the door open, smiling at me pleasantly and taking a bit of my toast before he disappeared into the bathroom to shave and clean himself up. In honesty I was confused.What made him come out? Was he feeling better? why did he act as though he had been out every morning?

I don;t like it when Homes plays games and I certainly don't like it when he tries to pretend he feels nothing. I'm sure he does. He is a man after all... In any case, that was not the strangest occurence of the day. What truly struck me as odd was what happened when he re-appeared.

He returned to the table, standing beside my chair, without a word, until I finished breakfast. When I set my fork down, he took me by the hand and forced me to stand up. Still with no words, he pointed to an article in the papers. 'Orchestra to play Beethoven.' I asked him if he wanted me to go with him, and he nodded frantically. I agreed and he seemed pleased, but again disappeared to his room.

I wonder what in the world he's up to.

Strange Happenings

There have been some rather odd happenings of late. Things that I don't think I need the subscribers of the 'Strand' to hear,so I have decided to keep this note-book locked safly away in my drawer. At least this way I will be able to keep track of events for myself in later years without anyone peeking into it, unless that someone might be Sherlock, but there is no way to keep his nose out of anything.

I suppose I should mark down what prompted this in the first place. Holmes and I were seated at the dining table a week ago, chatting on and off about recent events when the conversation turned to my engagement. I am set to move away from 221b Baker Street in a few weeks and despite my constant re-assurance that I will be a frequent visitor, Holmes always seemss so upset when i speak of it. This case was no acception.

I told him simply that I was looking forward to seeing the married side of things, which in honesty is only a half truth, but that is better left explained another time. Holmes became very quiet, much more quiet than I would have thought possible for the man when he was not in deep thought. After a moment he stood from the dining table and uttered his last words before disappearing for the night.

"She is lucker than she'll ever know, dear fellow. Your affection is a powerful thing."

I attempted to question him on the matter, but his door closed without an answer. I do wonder what in the world prompted words like those and why he is still refusing to move from his room, even after four days.

Something must be wrong with Holmes