Holmes' Mistake
by Pandapony

Chapter Seven

After a lovely dinner and, for the first time in a month, some wonderful conversation, I retreated to my bedroom for rest.   My body was sore and my wound tried by our activities.   My throat felt as if I had been screaming at the top of my lungs for hours on end.   Nevertheless, I felt wonderful. Alive.   More alive than ever before.  

I must have fallen asleep, but at some point in the evening I rolled over and bumped into Holmes. He lay with his back towards me, naked under the covers.   I yawned and rolled towards him, wrapping him in my arms and spooning up against his back.   I felt his fingers stroke my hands on his chest.

“Watson?” he whispered.   His voice was thick with sleep, or so I thought at first.

“Mm?”

“Do you forgive me?”

It took me a moment to remember what it was I had to forgive him for.   And then I realized. I had never forgiven him on paper, or in words.   He had lived this past month assuming I held him accountable for his mistake.

It had been Holmes' miscalculation that had led to my injury. But I still trusted Holmes. I wanted to say I forgave him, but then I recalled his over-protective behaviour at the docks, and turned him to face me.   “I forgive you, as long as you are capable of returning to the partnership we once had.”

Holmes immediately looked shocked, and pulled away.   I suddenly understood his misinterpretation of my comment, and held him closer.   “No, Holmes… I do not mean in this aspect of our relationship.”   I sighed.   “I need you to trust me again.   I need things to be put back the way they were before this dreadful incident.   You have to believe I can hold up my end of the case. You must let me be your partner again.”

Holmes was watching me, eyes slightly lidded, an unreadable expression on his face.   “And if I trust you?   You will forgive me?”

“Of course.   I love you, Holmes.”   I gently kissed his temple.

Holmes did not respond.   Instead, he turned over completely and kissed me deeply on the mouth.

“I do not believe you incapable of assistance, Watson,” he said finally.

“I know,” I responded, “However—“

“—And I have absolute faith in your own strengths and understandings of the perils in which we place ourselves.”

This time I waited for him to finish his point.

Holmes swallowed.   “Do not think I lack any respect for your abilities.”

“Then why did you come to my aid when I could have handled the situation by myself at the docks?”

Holmes seemed to stop breathing for a moment.   Then he stretched his hands back and rested his head on his palms, staring up at the ceiling.   “I no longer have absolute faith in my own certainties, Watson.   You made no mistake in the Cotswolds.   I did.   And it almost cost you your life.”   Holmes stared blankly upwards, but I could see the emotion now, trembling under the surface of his skin.

I touched the side of his face gently.   “You have to trust yourself again, Holmes.   We have had one disaster after years and years of successes.   It is time for you to forgive yourself, and move on.   And it is time for you to trust me and believe that I know what I am doing.”

“I trust you,” Holmes said quickly, turning to face me.

I smiled down at him.   “Then I forgive you.”

Holmes smiled, one of his brief, blindingly beautiful smiles, and then pulled me close to him.   I tucked my head under his chin and the two of us nestled close and surrendered to sleep.