“I felt Holmes hand steal into mine and give me a reassuring shake, as if to say the situation was within his powers and that he was easy in his mind.”
The thought of Holmes having a breakdown sometime after capturing Moran, finally home and free from Moriarty’s claws – those three years of pain and weariness and longing that he kept pent up coming to surface is really something
TFW you want to cuddle but your sleep schedule is a mess.
I know we are halfway through February already and this is just the second prompt. Challenges sound like fun until you actually try to fulfill one while also working a job with insane deadlines. Challenge by @violettenouvel
Berlynn Wohl brings you a provocative new portrait of the great detective Sherlock Holmes and his dear friend and companion, Doctor Watson. By turns tender and scintillating, the stories in this collection vividly re-imagine one of the great love stories of English literature.
Craving an interpretation of the Great Detective and his faithful Doctor Watson that emphasizes a deep, loving bond that results in hot encounters and lifelong commitment? This is the book for you.
“I have never loved, Watson, but if I did and if the woman I loved had met such an end, I might act even as our lawless lion-hunter has done. Who knows? ”
– The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot
“You are right,” he cried with an immense sigh of relief. “It is quite superficial.” His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?”
–The Adventure of the Three Garridebs
I think putting these two quotes together should be self-explanatory enough.
Sherlock Holmes believed killing for love was justifiable, and he set free criminals who committed murder for love, twice. He admitted that he would have done the same–he almost did, and he never regretted or doubted it.
But does that not sound self-contradictory? Remember what he said in The Sign of the Four:
“But love is an emotional thing, and whatever is emotional is opposed to that true cold reason which I place above all things. I should never marry myself, lest I bias my judgment.”
Here is the point: Sherlock Holmes was a man with emotions and feelings, although not abundant, no doubt he had emotions and he knew this fact. He did not want emotions affect his judgment and reasoning, exactly because he had emotions, otherwise who would have bothered to avoid some adversary they are immune to?
Another key point is that Holmes never viewed emotions as something evil or bad in nature, or needed to be eliminated. He did not want to getting emotional because of his personal value: reason and truth above all. But he never judged others based on this personal value so that he deemed someone to be evil or worth punishing because they value love more than reason and rationality. On the contrary, he deeply respected their values and believed their course of action was just and understandable. He had empathy to these people who were willing to risk their life and honor for love, and he was willing to commit felony for these people.
Would he say “these people who killed for love did not make a sound judgement”? Maybe. But their judgement being biased or not was irrelevant. Holmes approved their course of action even thought it did not matches his personal value.
Now the real fun part is, if Evans had killed Watson, and Holmes, as he promised, had killed Evans, would he have deemed his judgment biased and reasoning compromised by emotions?
Of course he could have said “it is natural for a gentleman to revenge his best friend at all cost; it’s just loyalty and friendship”. It is a reasonable and acceptable answer.
But knowing all what he experienced and the words he said, he couldn’t persuade us, or even himself, that it is the true answer.
We all know what would shatter the most iron-hearted detective into pieces inside, and what would drive the ever composed and unfazed Sherlock Holmes into total insanity and bloodthirst.
John rolled the hem on his trousers up for the fiftieth time today from where they had fallen. Nearly tripping him as he crossed the street. His clothes were still too big, despite the fact his father swore he would grow into them …
He adjusted the strap on his newspaper bag and in the loudest voice he could muster, shouted out: “PAPER! LONDON IN TERROR! HAPENNY APIECE!”
He heard a scuffle behind him and turned around to see a boy with dark curls and eyes glinting, wrestling himself away from some big bloke.
“HEY!” John shouted at the man, causing him to startle and let go of the boy. A blink. And the kid had disappeared. But the man was still there standing glaring. “Paper?” John asked innocently, and watched with glee as the man shrugged and walked off with a growl.
“PAPER! GET YOUR MORNING PAPER!” John shouted again, turning around at the tug on his sleeve.
It took him half-a-second to notice the penny the boy held out in his hand. Distracted as he was by the boys good looks. It was the curly haired toff who John had just helped to escape.
.
“May I?” The boy asked politely. His voice deeper than his small, thin frame implied … and far too refined for him to be wrestling with street thugs!! What was he up to?
John’s brain registered the gesture of the boys hand outstretched, and handed him a paper absentmindedly. Still gawping.
The boy took his hand and opening his palm, laying the penny in it …
“ - it’s only a ha-” he began in protest, but the boy cut him off with a soft finger to his lips. Folding his hand shut to accept it. “I should give you more, in thanks,” he said.
John took a moment to stare at it, before sticking the penny in his pocket.
“Wanna know a secret?” the boy asked, then, leaning in. John was nodding before he could think why … he knew nothing about this kid, and yet he wanted to know everything …
“I’m going to be famous someday,” the boy whispered, shaking open the paper and pointing John to the latest crime article. Lord Blackwood … the murder was all over town. The only thing John had heard talked about this morning.
.
“I already know who did it, and not just that! I know how it was done,” the boy stated. He wasn’t bragging. He said it like it was perfectly normal for thirteen year olds to be solving heinous crimes!
John’s eyes widened. Speechless.
“I told the police but they don’t believe me,” the boy continued, huffing as if they were idiots and it was theirloss.
Then the boy turned back to John, casually asking, “do youwant to know who it is?”
John finally found his vocal chords, and half begged - an excited - “yes?! I mean … yes, please?”
The boy grinned.
He pointed at a man that was driving by in a handsome cab at that very moment.
“It’s him. That man there. The murder was committed in the bathroom of Lord Blackwoods private suite. They just THINK it was committed in the library. There’s soapy water in his lungs. Just wait and see,” he tapped his hand against the paper and winked.
John found himself smiling at the genius of the thing! “What’s your name?” he asked. Anxious should the boy walk away without saying?
“Sherlock Holmes,” the boy replied, sounding surprised. His hand stretched out - this time timidly - for John to take.
He seemed to be smiling at John as if he couldn’t believe someonebelieved him! At last!!!
John shook it. Heartily. Smiling wider.
Sherlock Holmes.
.
“Iwill keep an eye out for you then, Sherlock,” he said, standing up straighter, “I have no doubt that you will be a very famous man someday.”
Sherlock beamed.
“And I have no doubt that you will make a very fine doctor, John Watson,” the boy replied, tugging on a curl as if it was the finest hat in London - and gracefully skipping away.
John stood there. Left alone in a sea of commuters. Stunned to silence for a second time today.
He looked down at the oversized trousers and saw his fathers initials J.W. showing on the hem.
Marvelling.
Wondering.
At just who this Sherlock Holmes would grow up to be?
I reposted a post about Sherlock Holmes always helped young women when the police would not help them because they didn’t believe them.
It made me think about my interpretation of Sherlock’s idea of women.
Apparently, he didn’t like them and he said to Watson he should not trust women. He also mentioned multiple times that he did not like women and would like to avoid them.
However as the other post explained, he was willing to help them, and he was always a gentleman when he was with them (to be fair he was a gentleman with anyone unless the other person was disrespectful or hostile). And he would avoid humiliating women or putting them into a situation of embarrassment if there was a choice.
Of course, all of those can be interpreted as nothing but a gentlemanly and decent thing to do. But we have to remember that when he met a woman who could outwit him, he did not show shame or denial. He kept her photo and he was totally open to admitting that he was bested by a woman in front of other people.
This is the most important point. Think about it. He told someone he was defeated by a woman simply the same way as he told any truth to others.
So I personally think he did not like women not because he was like some rude and brutal men who were just sexist and misogynistic and saw women as inferior–of course, sexism and misogyny were unavoidable in that period of history, but that is not the point. The key point is the real thing he didn’t like about women was their emotional and fragile “nature”, which was the standard understanding of women in the time he lived. He made it clear that he did not like being controlled and affected by feelings and emotions because he valued reasoning and truth, and women were believed to be more emotional, especially in his time. He did not dislike them merely because of their sex; he did not like them because of their traits that were shaped by society and culture. So if a woman could prove that she possessed some abilities and traits that he admired and respected, he had no problem accepting that she was worthy and admitting her victory over him, instead of falling into denial, rage, and resentment.
I’ve decided to begin a monthly newsletter to list happenings in the fandom, now thru Jan (*cough* *cough* copyright), because honestly … there’s a lot going on!! P.S. This newsletter will be inclusive of everything SHERLOCK (not only BBC!):
Events:
JUNE is PRIDE MONTH!ShareQUEER positivity and love! I’ll be re-blogging works from my first crash course in the fandom! (#I am pridelockedby@ohlooktheresabee xoxo) I am not posting a challenge this year, but I know there are several!! I’m following all of you instead! Tag me anytime!
RUPERT GRAVES BIRTHDAY PROJECT!Annual event for charity, culminating June 30th ! Last year was The Trevor Project! Not sure what charity it is yet 2022? Follow & tags on social media to find out!#rupert graves birthday project //@rupertgravesbirthdayproject//
HOLMESCON 2023(Fan Con) is coming up! Hotels and tickets are available to book NOW (June 4th 2022)!! In prep for next AUG 11th-13th 2023! To London!!! Hope to see you all there! Follow & tag #holmescon//@holmescon
HOLMESTICE(A Holmsian Solstice)Going on NOW! A BUNCH of prompt requests came in! Make one!? Fulfill one! (or three? ) No limits! More than one gift is welcome per prompt. All for fun, and all for love! Open gifting this round (no assignments - see what inspires!). #holmestice//@holmestice
All Sherlock (not limited to BBC or ACD holmes).Be sure to link or reply there to let your recipient know you made them a gift! Hosted on Dreamwidth.There will be another round for gift-exchange in the fall!
SHERLOCK CHALLENGE//Monthly prompts to fill any way you like! All forms of fan works welcome! JUN PROMPT: MOVE#sherlock challenge//@sherlockchallenge//
FLASH FIC FRIDAY//Weekly friday mystery prompt! Write 100-1000 words (text post) Any topic! Any fandom! This is an open and inclusive event. #flash fic friday//@flashfictionfridayofficial//
FLUFFBRUARY // You thought it was over in feb??! Hah! The 14th of Every month is fair game for fluff! #fluffbruary//@fluffbruary//
2022 YEAR OF THE CRACK FICCHALLENGE! // This year only, I was inspired to find some humour (and not just angst!) in fics and thought this would be fun for the Year of the Tiger! Haha // Accepting crack fics now thru Dec 31st! Have a cracked idea?? Write it! Win art by helloliriels! // #2022 Year of the Crack Fic // (more than one entry is welcome! Any length, any rating!) AO3 ‘2022_crack_fix’!
Media:
THREE PATCH PODCAST//Listen to their latest episode! #132: Queerantine a Pride episode! Queer media has grown by leaps and bounds during the pandemic. Join them as they talk about favorite new things to watch, listen, or read! //#three patch podcast//@threepatchpodcast//
I HEAR OF SHERLOCK EVERYWHEREpodcast featured on Spotify hosts all kinds of Sherlock topics from ACD Canon and pastiche to popular Media versions. I’ve barely dipped my toes in so far … so I can’t guarantee the content! Listener advisory.
A BETTER STORYrebs of TJLC Explained is back (YouTube) with a 7 part series - to go over everything that happened and why and how we can regain a sense of understanding from it. Well worth a view! And SO much packed into every episode!!! Also FROM A DROP OF WATER a fanfic by @victorianpining with a 'what could have been’ fix. So much lovefor sharing both of these with us!!! #a better story//#tjlc explained
Looking for other Sherlock Media? We have several discord servers running (feel free to reply with yours to join!), fan fic clubs, the Johnlock Podfic Club and more! Will try to highlight more each month.
Did we miss any upcoming fandom events?? Know there’s more, and it continually surprises! Send a link if there’s another June happening or recurring event to credit!!! I have events stashed up for EVERY month it seems! ✌️ I’ll add!
I will also be including a page for the newsletter on my blog (or considered sharing a PDF? would that be helpful?) for those of you who want to mark your calendars! xoxo - Liri
JUNE UPDATE! 6/11 since there is more going on and then some!
CHANCE OR CHESS?-a BBC Sherlock and TJLC podcast started up in Nov, 4 eps. up, hosted on Spotify and Apple and many other places! This one focuses on the Johnlock theory and is fantastic! #chance or chess//@chanceorchesspod//
LETTERS FROM WATSON- a 'Dracula Daily’ type email for sherlock fans ((winning!!) *honestly i hope its so similar! GIMME*) is in the works! Sign up now to keep informed of updates! Bahaha! So great! #letters from watson//@jabbage // ty for doing this!!!
THE JOHNLOCK PODFIC CLUB-is back! We’re looking for more podficcers to join us in adding to the growing collection! I have stepped in as admin for both the SoundCloud library: johnlock-podfic-club and @johnlockpodficclub page! DM me if you have a recording to upload & share! Or if you want to find out more!
Tagging moar peeps! Since tumbles limits to 50 (feel free to tag and add to this list for June!) Any fic chats or discords open let us know!
This is for @sanguinarysanguinity, thanks again! Sorry for the delay, but we’re back now for the ‘Four Headcanons’ Meme. (Coming up next, I will be doing Dean Winchester, Kara Thrace, and Sherlock Holmes himself - thanks so much everyone who has sent in requests!)
As it happens, I’ve written more about Mycroft than any other secondary ACD character. I’ve identified with him since I was a child, and I like trying to imagine my way into his head. For this post, I’ll try to offer some new thoughts first, and then at the end I’ll add links to the fics of mine that are heavy on Mycroft headcanon.
Headcanon A (Realistic): Mycroft has been heavy all his life, it is his natural body type. He also has naturally low energy levels, and though they are unrelated to depression – which he does not suffer – they are aggravated by his chronic insomnia. That in itself would not have kept him from being sporty in his youth, but although he is content and even interested to observe others at play, he found direct participation in most popular sports to be wearing, dull, and uncomfortable. Mycroft is always conscious of the areas in which his ability to observe, calculate, and predict gives him what might be considered an unsportsmanlike advantage. This was particularly true in boxing, billiards, and card games, and for that reason Mycroft found them distasteful despite his clear ability to excel at them. Knowing that developing some other type of accomplishment would reduce the pressure on him to engage in competitions he did not relish, he worked his way through mastering every instrument in the orchestra except for the violin, which he felt should belong wholly to Sherlock. At social gatherings he is a confident performer and can take up any instrument his host has on hand, particularly since it excuses him from dancing. The most common parlor instrument is the pianoforte, so that is the one he plays most often. He also composes, though he has never sought to have his pieces performed.
Headcanon B (Funny): He has no interest in owning a pet of any kind, but he adores birds and is an inveterate bird-watcher. Every year he takes one week’s vacation. While his colleagues imagine that he must indulge himself in fine dining and spend the rest of his leisure in placid museum and library trips, in fact they could find him crouching behind bushes or lying in ditches across the Commonwealth for a glimpse of the species he has not yet seen.
Headcanon C (Complete AU): In my ACD wingfic, I have already given Sherlock the wings of a goshawk and John the wings of a skylark. I would have to do some more research before firmly deciding on Mycroft’s wings, but my first instinct is that he should have the wings of a vulture. Considered large to an unseemly degree and dismissed as gauche if not ugly, they are in fact a perfect fit for his body and a strong reflection of his mind and personality. Although popularly derided as lazy scavengers, and sometimes even considered sinister because they are often pictured bloodily feasting on corpses, vultures in fact represent all the virtues of an omnivorous appetite. Rather than hunting and killing themselves, they clean up the waste and mess left behind by others. In doing so, they do much to prevent the spread of disease, as they are themselves impervious to the kind of rot that would kill most other creatures. Mycroft is mentally omnivorous; he’s unglamorous, underestimated, and ungainly. He’s a vulture.
Headcanon D (Canon Divergence): As with Mary, there is so little canon about Mycroft (he only has a speaking role in two stories, and is briefly mentioned in two more) that what we get is hard to argue with. However, I will say that I diverge from the way that many writers and actors have interpreted canon!Mycroft in that I see him as a less Machiavellian character than he frequently appears to be in adaptations, and I also don’t imagine him as being patronizing toward Sherlock. There’s no denying that he *is* patronizing here and there in Greek InterpreterandBruce Partington Plans, but I mentally convert that into familiar teasing that is stripped of any underlying power dynamics. In ACD verse, as opposed to BBC verse, I concentrate on elements of their fraternal relationship such as unspoken loyalty, natural reserve, quiet anxiety, and occasional low-key, deadpan humour. They get on each other’s nerves when they spend too long in the same room, certainly, and feel no urge to regularly socialize, but the Mycroft that I write is one who respects his brother’s intelligence and choices and doesn’t feel any need to one-up him or to tell him how to live his life.
As I mentioned, I’ve written a fair number of fics about Mycroft. Here are some of the ones that are heavy on headcanon:
Strangers – I wrote this back in 2009 as a character study focused on the question: in what ways does Mycroft’s brilliance differ from Sherlock’s genius? Why did Sherlock choose detection, and Mycroft politics?
A Choice of Evils – How did Mycroft handle being caught in the middle of the Reichenbach secret?
Rewriting History – This story has a subplot about the impact that World War I had on Mycroft.
Art in the Blood – This isn’t set in the ACD verse, but it’s still Victorian. It explores what might happen if Mycroft changed careers.
And if anyone is also interested in BBC Mycroft, I have these:
Refusing the Knighthood – Star Wars AU. Mycroft as a Jedi Knight, Sherlock as his very recalcitrant Padawan.
Crusade – A Mycroft character study by means of Indiana Jones.
The Almost Empty House – A Potterlock fic in which John and Sherlock are the main characters, but there are some significant scenes between John and Slytherin!Mycroft.
Some kind stranger just came across this old post in the wilds of Tumblr and gave it a like, thereby reminding me of its existence. Thank you, friendly reader! My warm feelings toward Mycroft remain, and he often features in my Holmes stories one way or another. Since writing the above post, I have added a couple more fics to my catalogue in which more of my Mycroft headcanons come out to play:
The Better Part of Valour. This is a Greek Interpreter fix-it in which Mycroft plays a not-insignificant role. It’s told from the point of view of Mr. Melas, who is canonically Mycroft’s neighbor, and he is a very observant gentleman who instinctively recognizes that Mycroft is a good person to go to for help.
The Talking Cure. Set in the 7 Percent Solution ‘verse. Mycroft does not directly appear in this one, but it is a fic that explores an old family tragedy in which he was as much a victim as Sherlock, and there is headcanon here about his relationship with his parents, and also with their childhood tutor, Professor Moriarty.
You know, the more I reread the canon, the more I have a hard time convincing myself that all the queer subtext was not deliberately written as so.
By God, there are more romantic passages than Basil confessing to have romantic feelings for Dorian in “The Picture of Dorian Gray”, an explicitly queer book – or as explicit as a book could be in the XIX century – that was used as “evidence” at Oscar Wilde’s trial for ‘gross indecency’.
The story itself was written by ACD from the point of view, mainly, of a military doctor discharged with honors (who subsequently share rooms with his found companion for at least 7 uninterrupted years), and writes 60 stories to give justice to his genius detective.
If this isn’t a love letter itself, I don’t know what it is.
Note: please, this is MY interpretation of the canon, and as many other Holmesians may share this view, I would like to expose it. If you see them as just intimate, good friends, go for it. This was not written as an attack if your view of the stories is different.
Sherlock Holmes is probably my favourite character he’s so unnecessarily dramatic and whimsical and he loves all these specific subjects like the different types of mud in London and wants to share it with people even if they think he’s strange and he did like music and knew every detail about horror books and he tried to retire and live in the countryside so he could study bees but he needed to be part of the action and he’s very sarcastic to people but at the same time is so kind to Watson and is in one of the best relationships (platonic or not) with a man written from that time and he was upset when Watson moved out so he tried to visit him even though that was difficult for him and would always invite Watson out on his cases so he felt included and he appreciated it when he met smart people like Irene Adler and recognised when he was bested and he made mistakes sometimes but he never pretended that he was better than he was and I think he deserves a lot more appreciation than just being a genius.
“You were distracted by something, though?” Sherlock asked, good humouredly - lighting his pipe. The glow in the room was not unpleasant. It highlighted Sherlock’s pale cheeks and sharp cheekbones … John however … was mesmerized by his hands … following them, tracing their outline … wondering … as Sherlock threw the stub into the fireplace. His right hand in stark relief to the orange blaze behind it.
John adjusted his collar. Realizing also, that it somehow had become excessively warm in here?
“Uncomfortable? Shall I open the window?” Sherlock began, hands moving gracefully to point at the window. John halted him, mid-stride.
“No, thank you,” he replied, “it’s nothing. Will pass. Felt a bit flushed, is all.”
“You look it,” Sherlock observed, keenly.
John tore his eyes away, refocusing on the paper before him … but … after a few moments, he was lost in thought again. Following those hands.
He was knocked from his reverie by Sherlock clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows in question. He hurried to cover up the manuscript, as he realized - too late! - Sherlock was coming over to read what little he had written …
Typically it was he wandering into his mind palace and ignoring John … not the other way ‘round!!
“What have we here?” Sherlock asked, lifting the light pages from off of John’s lap, and John dropping the rest to stand and join him. Gawping. Gasping. Trying to take the pages back! But Sherlock twirled, enjoying the game. Reading studiously, despite all of John’s protests!
“Seem to be a bit fixated on my ..*ehem* … ‘long, thin hands’ here, Watson?” Sherlock eyed him again with not a little kindness as he peeled away the layers between John’s conscious act and unconscious thoughts …
“Well, they are - you - are … quite-,”John stared at his feet, trying to collect his thoughts and reason. Shutting his mouth, before he should expose himself worse! And possibly be kicked out!
Just what he was attempting to write down before he had become fixated by the elegant detective’s fingers … ? He couldn’t even recall it now. Everything before him, was Sherlock.
He was turning red again. The sound in the room, zooming down to his own breathing! What had he been thinking of?!! Allowing himself to daydream like this?!! He couldn’t say it out LOUD!
He could feel the tips of his ears. His nose. Reddening again … The burning in his cheeks … a private tell that Sherlock knew intrinsically. He had mentioned it many a time, when John was flirting with a cute barmaid or bank teller. There was nothing he could truly hide from his best and closest friend? Even if he wished it to be so?
To his surprise, Sherlock stepped closer …
Bending forward to whisper in his ear …
“And what exactly were you imagining my long, thin hands capable of?”
The warmth began pooling in his belly, mind racing towards places he was not allowed to go! Mary had just left him, or rather - kicked him out! After reading his last issue in ‘The Strand’ and coming to her own conclusions on the matter!!
He shut his eyes tight and tried to squeeze it out. Shut it out. Slam the door. Just as he had with Mary - but Sherlock …
Sherlock …
And those delicate, sensual fingers … came closer.
His breath held … he felt Sherlock’s hand press gently against his lips … shushing him. Pads held there. Kissable. Soft. The hands of a gentleman.
He whispered again in John’s ear,
This time, the warm puff of air trailing down into his collar and teasing his neck with endless possibility … as he begged, “please, tell me?”
In case you’re having a bad day or feeling a little under the weather, here’s some pics of Jeremy Brett with some doggies aka some of my absolute favorite photos of all time <3
Summary:Holmes and Watson meet as young adults and develop a relationship. However, the day comes for Watson to leave for war, and a painful goodbye plays out as he and Holmes part ways at the train station.
Pairing:Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson (Granada versions/acd canon)
Warnings: angst, fluff,
I’d expected the day to come, but the happiness I’d been basking in for the past ten months had made me desire it to take longer and longer until it wouldn’t come at all. After meeting him, time went by too fast for me to leave now. Far too fast.
Holmes walked beside me as we reached the train station, other gentleman dressed in similar attire as myself beginning to climb aboard the smoking train after saying their goodbyes to their own loved ones. I felt Holmes’ eyes upon me as he waited for me to abandon him, rip the bandaid off and hopefully make this moment less excruciating. Although, I believe it was easy to say that we both were aware that it would be just as torturous regardless of how fast or slow this went, or how much longer I’d get to be with him until I left for lord knows how long and returned after what will feel like a lifetime, if I’m lucky enough to return at all, that is.
I closed my eyes before turning to face Holmes who was now observing the train, seemingly admiring it. I sighed to try and buy some time to think of the right words to voice, with no avail.
“It won’t be forever, you know.”
I said as gently as I could, to which Holmes turned back to face me, his eyes leaving their blissful thinking state and returning to the sombre appearance they’d held from the moment I’d told him about what today meant whilst at breakfast. Of course, it didn’t take much for him to fill in the silence before I even got a word out to say what was to happen later. He simply looked at me and said, “What time?” His voice slower and heavier than I’d ever heard it to be. And now the moment had finally come.
“There’s no guarantee that you will be back, Watson, and as much as I appreciate your attempts to conceal the fact, I’m afraid it’s something I’ve tried to come to terms with myself.”
I’d felt a sting in my chest that got harsher with every word that escaped his mouth.
“Well, have you?” Asked I as I fought to keep my voice steady, although I’ve learned rather quickly that hiding anything from Holmes was always a losing game.
His eyes stared into mine like daggers, and his lips formed a small, painful smile.
“Not in the least.”
And with that, I could hold my emotions back no more. I lunged at him and buried him into my arms in an embrace, feeling his arms tighten around me as if his life depended on it, his breathing unsteady in my ear as he ran his nose slightly on my neck.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered in his ear. It was all I could think to say.
He let out a quick and soft laugh before placing a kiss on my jaw.
“Please, you mustn’t be anything of the sort. You’re the most admirable man I’ve ever gotten the absolute privilege to meet, to hold, to kiss.”
“You speak of me as if I’ve died.” I joked.
Holmes failed to laugh.
“I’m afraid that in this moment, there’s not a trace of certainty to ease my mind and promise me you won’t do so.”
I breathed in sharply before pulling him away from my neck and placing both my hands on his cheeks to face me.
“I won’t. God as my witness. I’ve got far too many beautiful things to come back for. You, my dear, are the face of them all.”
I slid my left hand off his cheek and onto his shoulder and let my right hand’s thumb caress and trace his cheekbone as I rest my forehead upon his, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep my composure.
Holmes slid his hand upon my wrist and gripped it hard enough to where I felt my blood circulation on that arm slow.
“Do not make promises you cannot keep, John. Not now.”
“I won’t if you promise me something in return.”
“Anything.”
“Please, stay off those dreaded poisons.”
Holmes looked down away from my eyes and onto the cement ground underneath us. I’d been dreading the thought of him turning to his substances and abusing his body and miraculous mind whilst I’m away. Seconds passed and he continued to avoid my gaze, without an answer slipping his lips, only increasing the fear building up in my chest more and more.
“Sherlock…”
He continued to avoid my gaze with a sharp exhale, until under a whisper, I uttered the words,
“For me.”
I’ve learned with time that those words seemed to always touch a place within him that no other words of mine could ever reach. It always rose an immense feeling of adoration in my heart.
With that, he finally looked into me once more.
“I promise you.”
I rubbed my nose lightly on his and brought him closer, lacking care in what the people around us thought about it.
“I cannot afford to lose you. Swear to me, please.”
He smiled, his hand placing itself onto my neck.
“You never will. I swear it.”
The bubble we’d felt surrounded us away from the world had popped with the sound of the train whistle and the conductor yelling for the final riders to aboard the train.
“I must go.” I whispered, forcing my voice to form the words as I felt it weaken with emotion. And to my surprise, and slight horror, I witnessed a small droplet escape Holmes’ left eye and leave a shiny trail down the smooth skin on his face. I’d never seen him show this kind of emotion in the entire time we’ve known each other up to this point in time.
I’ve seen Sherlock Holmes in many states in different circumstances. I’ve seen him lost in thought when at times he forgets my presence as I observe his mind begin to swallow him whole and allow him to wander elsewhere away from his surroundings as he observes something, I’ve seen him close his eyes and lean his head back in bliss and pleasure as his ears savor the melody of a violin, or as we finally get our time alone and he allows me to cherish his being without the obnoxious barriers of his clothing to stop me, I’ve seen him groan in pain and annoyance as he stumbles backward into the corner of a ring after an especially hard blow to his nose from his opponent in a boxing match. I’ve seen blood run down his face; but not tears.
I had hoped I would never get the chance to do so.
I wiped the stray tear away with my thumb and planted a kiss on his forehead, caring less and less about the eyes that were surly upon us.
“It might take months, perhaps years, but I promise I’ll come back for you. I plan on keeping that promise to the very end.”
Holmes smiled and let out another small, quiet laugh.
“Please do so. After all, I am lost without my Boswell.”
I let out a small laugh of my own and returned the gentle smile.
“And I without you.”
We stood in silence, savoring our time together for another moment, until the conductor caught Holmes’ ear.
“Go on. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here expecting your return.”
“You better be.”
I made note to glance around us to see if eyes were observing us, and when I failed to find any, I pressed a deep kiss onto his soft lips, tasting a lick of tobacco and lavender tea from his breakfast this morning. A very poor one, at that. I made a mental note to send him letters ordering him to maintain a less than unsustainable diet.
Holmes returned the kiss and pulled me closer by the collar on my soldier’s uniform, gripping it tight enough to where I feared he might rip it. His lips abandoned mine allowing him to breathe.
“Damn you John Watson and those magical lips of yours.”
I laughed and grabbed my luggage before placing a quick but passionate kiss on his lips once more and holding his hand, feeling it slip away as I climbed aboard the train quickly before it departed, and opened the window beside my seat, allowing my head to pop out as the train whistled in announcement of its departure.
My eyes caught Holmes’ once more. The train had not yet began to move, thankfully, and I watched Holmes walk quickly to the window and reach out for my hand for a final time which I painfully took and tried my absolute best to memorize the way it felt, his lips catching my gaze as he mouthed:
“I love you.”
The train began to move slowly, but not before I managed to mouth back:
“And I you.”
And with that, my fingers felt down his palm until they could no longer as the train began its journey. Holmes waved me goodbye with a smile I’ve only ever seen when he stood in front of me and me alone, as he fell behind more and more.
Not wanting to stick my head back inside the train, I watched him until he completely left my sight and vanished behind the train’s smoke. And when he did, I laid my head back onto the seat, and let the sob I’d been desperately fighting back out into the palm of my hand to suppress it from the ears of others.
“I will return to him.” I swore to myself.
“I must.”
Author’s note: forgive my punctuation it’s never been my strongpoint.
So WHAT if I tell people that this is a photo of my great, great, great, grandfather who was in love with a man and had a child via a surrogate who was a friend of his from university and was of Mexican decent which is why I’m not white like them and that my parents named me Sherlock after him and never speak about either of my grandfathers because homophobia and that’s why they’re never EVER mentioned?
