Improprieties
by LavenderJade
Notes

Chapter Two: Watson

It had been a fortnight since Holmes joined Mary and me for dinner, which had led to the most discomforting conversation that night in our bed.  My wife has convinced herself, using methods that on the surface seem frighteningly similar to Holmes’s, that he is in love with me.  And that further, I myself might actually be capable of returning this abnormal sentiment. 

And perhaps most shocking of all, she admits that she finds the idea … intriguing. 

No.  After a fortnight of not being able to concentrate on anything else, I find my own feelings to be the most shocking of all.  I fear she is correct, about him – and about me.  Now that I have opened my eyes to the idea, I can look back on our years together and suddenly certain looks, certain moods of his now make sense.  As to my own feelings, I have long known that Holmes means more to me than anyone else save my dearest Mary.  I cannot say why, since he is a man who does not encourage such closeness, indeed actively shuns it.  Perhaps that is why; the rarity of such an event makes it all the more precious.  I am the only person he has permitted within his defenses, and I cherish that. 

I suppose I have been aware for quite a while now that what passes between us is deeper than what most men share.  I have told myself that it is a brotherly affection I feel for him.  But I think even I have known that to be less than honest.  I do miss terribly those evenings we spent together at Baker Street.  The feeling of being beside him, day in and day out.  I have never been one who is interested in his own sex, and yet now I find the thought of touching him … intriguing.  Mary, dear Mary, what have you done to me?

Before I drive myself crazy with this, I have decided to confront Holmes.  If Mary’s initial premise is incorrect, I have no further reason to test my feelings on the subject.

And so, after shutting down my practice for the afternoon, I hailed a cab and set it heading to Baker Street.  The ever-efficient Mrs. Hudson met me at the door.

“Why Dr. Watson!  How good to see you, sir!  I hope all is well with you and the Missus?”

“Couldn’t be better, my dear lady.  Tell me, is Holmes in?”

She nodded happily.  “You just go right on up, then!”

“Thank you, my good lady!”

A certain trepidation gripped my heart as I climbed the stairs to my old chambers.  I had been here a few times since my marriage, but not since I had learned to think of the events of those days in a different light.  What if I was wrong?  Would Holmes be offended?

I ran out of time for worry as I came to the top of the stairs.  Holmes had undoubtedly heard my voice below.  He sat in his chair, reading a monograph of some sort, and yet I could see his lips curved in a smile.  Without looking up, he spoke.  “Sit, Watson.  I shall be finished here in a moment.”

I felt strangely relieved that he still treated me as if I lived there, not as a guest to be greeted formally.  I took my familiar place and picked up a magazine, flipping through it while I waited his pleasure.  Finally, he put the small book down and turned to look at me. 

I was at once struck by the sparkle in those gray eyes; it seemed my presence truly pleased him.  I couldn’t help smiling at him.  “You’re looking well, Holmes.”

He raised an eyebrow.  “I’m sure you didn’t cab all the way across town to comment on my health, Watson.  What is on your mind?”

I sighed.  He wasn’t going to make this easy.  I decided to make light of Mary’s suggestion.  With a small laugh, I shrugged.  “Women are the most curious creatures sometimes, Holmes.”

His eyes narrowed.  “Watson, you know I have little experience with the fair sex.  Most of them are so vapid, so … useless.”

I nodded.  “But I think even you will agree that my Mary is not of that ilk?”

Here, Holmes nodded.  “She is a worthy partner for you, Watson.”  Did his praise seem somehow … grudging? 

I smiled.  “Yes she is.  But after your last visit, she surprised even me.  It seems she has applied your methods of reasoning to matters of the heart.  And has drawn a surprising conclusion.”

The frown was back.  “And what is that?”

“She believes that you … love me.”  For now, I would leave my own response out.

Holmes became very quiet.  Finally he said, “And how did she arrive at this conclusion?”

I recounted to him her logic.  He stood up and turned away from me, facing out the window.

“You know, Watson, I never thought to apply logic to something so illogical as love.  And yet even here, its power holds.”  He fell silent, staring out the window.

When he next spoke, it was as if his voice was a million miles away.  “I suppose this means the end of our friendship, then?”

I could not see his face, but the sadness in his voice was painful to hear.  I had not been sure how I would react if he affirmed the assumption.  But in that moment, I knew I had no other choice. 

“No, Holmes!  Never that!  I swear to you.”

At my words, he turned around, and I could see the brightness of tears in his eyes.  His expression was one of confusion.  “Watson?  You are not disgusted with me?”

“How could I be?  You are still the same man I have known and admired all these years. And … loved.”

Now he was even more confused.  “Loved?”

I came to him and gently laid a hand on one tense shoulder.  “Until that night, I had thought it to be a platonic feeling, brotherly in nature if somewhat more intense than usual.  Now I am not so sure.”

Holmes stared at me as if I had become some alien object.  “This cannot be …”

I smiled weakly at him.  “Holmes, I am still not sure exactly what I feel.”

“What about Mary?”

I laughed.  “She finds the idea of … us … ‘intriguing.’”

His eyebrows nearly climbed off the steep brow.  I grinned.   “My Mary is a most exceptional woman, Holmes.  In many ways.  On our wedding night, she taught ME things about love.  She is not so faint of heart as her sisters.”

“Indeed, not!”  I think the poor boy was becoming overwhelmed.  We both were.

I took a deep breath.  “Holmes, I really am not sure what I want here.  I … couldn’t bring myself to consider the options until I knew for sure.”

He nodded, drawing back into himself.  “Of course, Watson …”

I couldn’t let this end with him looking so forlorn.  I closed the distance between us.  “This much, I can do, my friend.”  My arms drew him into an embrace, pulling him close.  It was more than brotherly, and yet not quite overtly sexual. In that moment I think I realized how alone he’d been all these years.  Married only a year, I was already used to the casual reassurance of touching one's mate.  But he had never had anyone to break that barrier.  Haltingly, his arms came up and wrapped around me.  I could feel his labored breathing, as the unaccustomed emotion shook his body.

“Easy, old chap,” I softly murmured into his ear.  I held him until once again he was still.

Chapter Three: Holmes