Improprieties
by LavenderJade
Notes

Chapter One: Mary

From the study doorway, I watched my husband closely. A year had passed since our wedding day, and I could not be happier.  John is a kindly man, a good provider with his medical practice, and perhaps best of all, he values my mind as much as my body.  I am no simpering child like so many ‘ladies’ of society.  No, I am very much my father’s daughter, intelligent and well spoken – and somewhat willful. 

Although I had been denied the teachings of my own mother, I had been most fortunate in finding a post with dear Mrs. Forrester.  My employer had treated me almost as a daughter, and I suppose felt she had found in me a kindred spirit.  When John and I announced our marriage, she had taken me aside and offered to share certain … secrets of the marriage bed.  Without my own mother to turn to, I eagerly accepted her generous offer.  I had long known that there was more to these matters than a 'proper lady' is supposed to know; however I had no idea how to discover them myself.  Fortunately, Mrs. Forrester was no more a 'proper lady' at heart than I.  She prepared me well, insisting that there was no shame in a woman taking as much pleasure as she gave.  As such, I was not only knowledgeable in the marriage bed, but a willing, nay, even eager participant.

I remember the shock on poor John’s face when, on our wedding night, I had come to him without fear.  I knew that as a gentleman, he had some experience of women, but expected me to have none of men.  Of course I had no direct experience, however I knew intellectually what to expect.   My … enthusiasm had taken him by surprise.  However, after the pleasures we discovered together that night, John counted himself a lucky man!

This night, however, I was watching closely to confirm something I had been wondering about since before our marriage.  For this night we had a dinner guest, John's former flat-mate, none other than the great Sherlock Holmes himself.  Holmes held a special place in both our hearts for his role in bringing us together in the course of a case I had begged his assistance in solving.  And of course, as John’s best friend and colleague of many years.

Even before John had proposed to me, however, I had been taken by the relationship between the two men.  Holmes liked to present to the world the image of the cold, calculating logician, a man beyond the petty human distraction of emotions.  And yet, beneath that cold exterior, I was sure a human heart beat softly in the background.  And if any human being were to be permitted to see it, that man would be my John, his Watson.

A year ago when we had married, we had both been flush with the discovery of our love.  Holmes had of course made some half-hearted comments about the folly of following one’s heart, but had taken his place at John’s side on our wedding day.  While everyone else’s attentions were on the bride and groom, I had the chance to watch the great man.  I was sure I had seen something in his eyes that day, a bitterness, a look of dreadful loss.  It had only lasted a moment, but I was sure I had seen it.  Since then, I have always felt a little guilty at taking John away from him.

Since our marriage, Holmes had visited us for dinner on a few occasions; more often, he stopped by later in the evening to chat with John in his study after supper.  Watching the two together over the past year had made me wonder if they themselves understood what there was between them.  So tonight, I watched my John as he greeted his old friend at the door, and throughout the evening.  Holmes was at his charming best; and yet I knew it to be an act.  My womanly intuition cut through the smokescreen, seeking out the emotions underneath.  Holmes was sad!  As if, after a year, he had finally admitted to himself that his Watson wasn’t coming home to Baker Street after all.  To my eyes, he seemed a lost and lonely little boy who had lost his best friend.  But there was even more than that. 

John, too, seemed different around the great detective.  They sat now in his study; I stood in the doorway watching them for a few minutes before entering to deliver their coffee.  At times, the bond between them seemed almost a physical thing, something you could hold in your hands.  Oh, they argued vociferously about this and that, enjoying the debate for its own sake.  But every now and then, a look, a softening of the voice, that spoke the truth.  I nodded to myself, delivered the coffee, and retired for the evening.

That evening, after Holmes left, John joined me in our bed.  I wasn’t the least bit surprised that this night, John made no move to touch me.  He never did after one of Holmes’ visits.  As we settled down for the night, I spoke.

“It was good to see Mr. Holmes again, wasn’t it, dear?”

“Hmm …yes, yes of course, Mary.”

“Is something wrong, John?”

“What?  Why do you ask?”

“You seem … preoccupied.”

Watson sighed.  // She is almost as perceptive as Holmes himself! // “Something seemed, … odd about him tonight, my dear.  He insisted that nothing was wrong, but …” His voice trailed off and he shook his head.

I gave a soft laugh.  “Can it be, my dear, that you truly don’t know?  Never figured it out in all these years you have known him?”

John looked at me, perplexed.  “Whatever are you talking about, my dear?”

“John, he loves you.”

He glared at me, knowing what I was saying, but refusing to accept it.  “As a brother, you mean?”

“You know very well what I mean.  He loves you, John, just as I love you.  Can’t you see that?”

“Mary!  Are you saying that he is … is …”

“One who prefers the company of his own sex?  John, dear, you have told the world in your stories how little regard he holds for the fairer sex.  Is this such a stretch?”

“But Mary!  Why … why me?”

“Oh, my poor husband.  You men can be so blind to matters of the heart.  Think of it this way, my love.  He knows his proclivities, and thanks to societal pressures, he does not want to act on them.  So he proclaims himself the emotionless machine of logic so that no one – male or female – will even think of assaulting his fortress.  Except for the one man who has ever gotten inside – his loyal companion Watson.  It is obvious to anyone seeing you two together that yours is a special friendship indeed.  You have seen more of his naked soul than any other human alive, save perhaps his brother, and they remain distant. And despite his chosen façade, he IS human, John.  Whether he admits it or not, he needs to know somebody cares about him.  And you do.  How could he not respond to that?”

John peered at me then through half-slitted eyes and heaved a heavy sigh.  “You make it sound logical, my dear.  I wonder how he would respond to your analysis?”

“Are you going to present it to him?”

“What?  Are you mad?  Wouldn’t it only cause him more pain to know that I know?”

“That would depend.  Although even if you plan to refuse him, at least knowing would be better than forever wondering if it was possible.”

“IF I plan to refuse him?  Woman, what on earth are you thinking?  I have married you, pledged myself to you and no other.  Even if I were so inclined toward men, and I am NOT!, I would never break my vows to you.”

I looked at my husband with a deep and abiding affection.  “Of course not, my dear.  I know that you have no inclination toward men in general.  But I ask you this, my love.  Not men, but THIS man.  The one and only Holmes.  Tell me your feelings don’t run deeper than one would consider ‘normal?’”

At this point, my John blushed deeply.  I continued.  “You never thought of your affection for him in this light before, have you my dearest?”

“No … of course not …” he managed to sputter out.

I reached out and gently caressed his cheek.  “John, dearest, you know I am most tenderly inclined toward Mr. Holmes for the part he played in bringing us together.  And because I know how much he means to you.  If you wanted to consider this, I would not object.  Indeed, I will admit I find the thought most … intriguing.”

At that, John’s eyes became wide.  “Mary, my dear, you never cease to amaze me.  To even say such a thing!”

I silenced him with a kiss.  “Think on it, my love.”

Chapter Two: Watson