#SherlockLove💜

by Holmesianlove

Chapter 9: A Surprising Evening

My sleep was disturbed by the sound of my name, 
gently whispered. Watson. Watson... calling me from my sleep. 
And then... John. It was sweet sounding. 
What I imagine a Siren calling to the sailors would sound like. Some of my soldier mates swore they'd heard Siren calls from the boats on the way to battle, but I was convinced they were crazy. 

This, however, sounded heavenly. Only much deeper. It vibrated through me. I opened my eyes, giving over to it completely and was greeted by the sight of Holmes holding out his hand, waiting for me to take it. 
“Come on. Let's go.” 

“Where?” I asked. 


But he didn't speak. He merely took my hand and guided me out of the apartment, down to the street below, without another word. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. It felt like my legs were made of lava but walking through dense water at the same time; everything in such slow motion. I wasn't sure if it was because I was sleep-weary or whether I was dreaming it all. Everything felt so surreal. I had no control over what was happening. 
My entire body was being controlled by something else, somebody else. All I could do was be guided by Holmes. And in that moment I knew I didn’t mind at all. I looked down and he still had my hand in his. Somehow, I didn't mind that either. It was comforting, even though it felt slightly cold. In the small amount of time we had spent getting to know each other, we had really bonded. I had enjoyed seeing that he, somehow, in his way, liked spending time with me, and I in turn wanted to spend my time with him. So this felt completely fine with me. If he wanted me to join him now, I would. 

The night was dark and misty. I couldn't feel my legs. Unlike the day when my legs had tired from all the walking, now it felt as if I was floating. Like I wasn't even inside my body. It felt like we walked for hours and yet minutes at the same time. 
It felt as if we were talking, and yet no words were exchanged, but it seemed our brains were communicating without speaking, as if some kind of bond took place without needing to say words at all. I was smiling. I felt happy. 
I didn't know why. It didn't matter to me that I didn't understand it. I knew instinctively that I was following him, wherever he would take me, and it didn't concern me that it could be dangerous. He could be leading me somewhere to my death, and I was going, regardless. 
Something about this man had entranced me, and I wanted everything he was offering, whatever it might be. He was beautiful, elegant – both in his style and appearance. 
His pale skin and eyes absolutely intrigued me in a way nobody ever had before. Was it an attraction? 
I don't know. I'd certainly appreciated the male form before. 
I was not shy about sexual encounters, despite the fact that such things were not spoken of in public. One found what they needed wherever they could – particularly away at war – so long as prying eyes weren’t to find you. But I had never really found that heart-pacing sensation that people called romance with anyone before – man or woman. That desire to be around one person, that passion, that craving. It was the first time I was desperate for someone’s attention. His time, his eyes on me. He had been conditioning me by drip feeding his availability. Maybe that’s all it was but I knew any moments I had with him were precious. He was the first person I actually wanted to spend time with, I needed to see. Now, here he was, dragging me through the streets of London. Or if it was some kind of fantasy I had dreamed up, I did not want to wake from it. Perhaps he and his brother’s concerns were well-founded and I was ill, and having a fever dream. I did not know which was true, but I was enjoying every moment of it. Every sensation. 

Suddenly, he grabbed me and pulled me into a doorway, just as he had earlier in the day. He closed the door behind us and we were safely inside an empty room. Dark, quiet. Unlike the antique store, this room was deserted, but for the two of us. He crowded against me again, only this time it wasn’t in fear. I could smell his clothing, his hair. In his lapel he had a fresh red rose. My head was spinning at the closeness of him. At the heady scent of the flower in his lapel. He put his face to my cheek and kissed the scar there, gently, featherlight. 

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Please forgive me?”

“It is forgiven,” I replied gently, my voice barely coming out. “Of course it’s forgiven. It was an accident.”

“I would never hurt you, my dear Watson, I would never hurt you. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Do you trust me?” he pleaded.

“Yes, I do.” I nodded slowly. He had me, anything he wanted of me he could have.

He stroked gently at my cheek. As his eyes grazed over all of my face and I felt somehow naked despite being fully clothed. It felt inexplicably sensual even though he barely touched me. I wanted so desperately for him to kiss me. I wanted to lean in and kiss him back. I wasn’t sure if that is what he intended with the encounter but I wasn’t sure I really understood what was transpiring at all. He leaned his lips down to my throat and rested them there. I sucked in a breath at the intimacy of it. My breathing picked up in excitement as he remained there. He didn’t kiss me, he didn’t do anything at all in fact. He just rested his lips there on my pulse point, continuing to breathe slowly, as if he had found a contented place of rest and I didn’t know what to do next.

“Holmes?” I asked a little nervously.

“Shhhhh!” he hissed, silencing me, as if he was busy listening to something.

I couldn’t move. I dared not move. I didn’t want to in any case. It was mesmerising.

And then I startled awake, opening my eyes to find myself on the couch at Baker Street. Holmes was seated in his arm chair, which he had turned around to face me, watching me closely as I slept. His eyes were transfixed on me, his elbows rested on his knees and his fingers were steepled together as he watched me.

“Are you alright?”  he asked, immediately sitting up straighter.

I felt completely disoriented and embarrassed. I flushed instantly, at the memory of everything still fresh in my mind. It felt so real, as if it was a memory, not a dream, as if I had just been experiencing it. I could still feel his breath on my neck, his voice still giving me goosebumps down my spine. I nodded uncomfortably in silence.

“Just a… strange dream,”  I offered instead, frowning as I tried to re-orient myself.

“Let me make you some tea,” he suggested. “Are you hungry?”

I thought for a moment and shook my head. He got up to move to the kitchen, though the look in his eyes seemed to convey something strange. It was almost as if he knew what I had seen. Could he know what I had dreamt about? Surely not!

“Are you alright?” I asked. “I was worried about you - hiding out in your room like that again.”

“Sorry I…” He came back out of the kitchen without any tea to answer me. “I’m not used to having people around me and I thought perhaps I might have upset you with my behaviour.”

“I’m fine. I told you I was fine.”

“I just wanted to give you space to recover.”

“I was shot in the shoulder,” I said, clearing my throat awkwardly.

“When?” He looked utterly confused of course.

“In the war, I was shot in my shoulder, Holmes. My point is, this cut on my face… it’s nothing.”

“Watson, it’s not nothing,” he groaned with renewed impatience.

“Alright,” I sighed, sitting up further. “Let’s assume it’s not nothing. And I respect your thoughts on this. Let’s assume you injured me greatly and while you seem to think it should be punishable by death, I think it can be forgiven.”

He stiffened. “It will be forgiven when I know you are alright.”

“I am alright!” I cried in frustration.

“We must give it another twenty-four hours, and then I will concede that you are alright.”

“You are very peculiar,” I said with an awkward chuckle.

He finally gave a little grin. “That may also be true.”

“So… for the next twenty-four hours I’m to stay on this sofa?”

“Yes.” he gave a curt nod.

“And… you’re going to watch over me?” I checked.

“Yes,” he agreed.

“So does that mean I get to spend time in your company, or will you hide out in your room again?” I asked.

“I wish to watch over you,” he agreed.

“Do you play chess?” I asked.

“I do.” His eyes lit up.

“Well great. I assume you have a set?”

“That’s probably a bad idea,” he immediately said and I frowned at him.

“Well I’m very good,” he continued.

“Are you?” I replied in challenge. “Well then, perhaps you can teach me a thing or two? We can play games, we can ask each other questions. Drink tea. I can feed us.”

He scrunched his face up at the suggestion.

“You really don’t eat much, do you? How do you survive without eating?” I asked.

“I have a… weak constitution and–”

“You know I’m a doctor, Holmes. I could help. I could work around your condition - whatever it is,” I offered, trying to open the door for him to tell me more about himself.

“It’s fine. I like to manage it myself.”

“You’re very secretive.”

“I like to keep it that way,” he said gently.

“Very well. You worry about your own needs and I’ll look after mine. So long as you keep me company,” I agreed gently. He seemed to like that, and relaxed slightly.

He smiled and went back to the kitchen to make tea.

“Deal, then. Your brother is a real treat,” I called out.

“I can assure you, I see him as little as possible. We don’t get along.”

“He’s much older than you,” I commented.

“Considerably.” That seemed to amuse Holmes.

“How much older?” I asked.

“Oh, a hundred years or so,” he said flippantly.

I chuckled at the comment. I found it very funny, a jibe between bickering siblings, not realising at the time just how accurate the comment was to be, until much later. When Holmes finally entered with our tea and settled opposite me again I offered: “I’m sure he’s only looking after your best interests, as all brothers are.”

“Certainly that must be true,” he said with a stiff half smile to end the topic.

We sat and talked for hours passing the time well, occasionally reading quietly on our own and he forced me to take a nap when I looked tired. Eventually I persuaded him to get out the chess set.

“How often do you get clients?” I asked as we played our moves.

“Well there’s different seasons. Christmas is busy - lots of stressful situations - lost people, theft, that sort of thing.”

“Right, of course,” I agreed as I made a move on the board.

“Valentine’s Day - there’s stalkers, lost lovers being sought out, murders,” he  said, raising his eyebrows excitedly and moved a piece in response.

“Really?!” I was fascinated, and probably distracted. I leaned in, hoping for more information.

“Mmmm,” he hummed as he watched me play out my move.

“Winter time, people get bored. They start to fill their time with historical research - family trees, and so on. They start asking for help finding people. That sort of thing.”

“I see.”

We continued to play as we talked. The way he watched the pieces move, like he was stalking a prey. It was enthralling. And every now and then those eyes flicked up to mine and it took my breath away.

“I don’t take every case. Only the ones that interest me. Of course, now I have you to help, so sometimes I might send you out to ask some extra questions, gather some extra intel. See if there’s more there worth looking at. It can be hard when I only go out in the evenings.”

“Okay. I can do that,” I replied. “Happy to.”

“You don’t wish to find a more permanent position as a surgeon again? Would this be sufficient for you? To hold your interest?” he asked, tentatively.

“I might eventually… but the break has been good for me. It’s early days. I enjoyed investigating with you but I’m sure you also don’t want to be paying me a wage if I’m only sitting around waiting for clients.”

“I’ll find things for you to do. You’ve already been tidying.”

“Yes, your brother thought I was your housekeeper! That’s humiliating. I don’t want to be your maid.”

“Not at all, you’ve done a splendid job and you cook beautifully. At least from what I can smell.”

“You don’t even eat it!” I exclaimed, finally making a move.

“Still. You’ve been making yourself very useful, an invaluable human even. Don’t worry so much. We will make the arrangement work I’m sure.”

I nodded, uncomfortably. I didn’t want to be a nuisance. Holmes looked at me with a strange grin. “Ah….”

“What?” I asked, trying to gauge why he was looking at me like that. He didn’t say anything, just looked very uncomfortable. “What? Holmes what is it? What did I say?”

“Checkmate?”

“What?! Already?!”

He chuckled low in his chest. “Sorry.” He looked embarrassed.

“You are good.” I stared at the board completely horrified.

“I told you.”

“Well perhaps you’ll have to train me up better then if you want to play more often.” I gave an embarrassed smile of apology. After all, he had warned me and I had forced him to play.

He nodded and started packing up the pieces.

I frowned suddenly, his earlier comment catching up to me. “You mentioned the other day that you don’t talk to humans much and just now you said–”

“It’s just a joke my brother and I have because we don’t like people very much. It’s nothing,” he said quickly, avoiding my eyes as he tidied up the pieces.

“Seems a strange turn of phrase to use,” I commented.

“Your book. The one you’ve been reading? The Beetle… Richard Marsh? With the detectives and the beasts…? What do you make of it?” he asked suddenly.

“Oh a lot of hogwash really,” I scoffed.

“You don’t think there are beasts among us?” he asked.

“What in real life? No, it’s just a fantasy novel! For entertainment’s sake, Holmes.”

“And… were you? Entertained?”

“Well certainly - for a couple of days at least.”

“But you don’t believe it to be possible?”

I looked at him a little shocked at the question. “No… Do you?!”

“Oh,” he stood and moved the chess board back to the bookshelves, “well I think science has a lot of catching up to do certainly.”

“You believe in beasts of fantasy?”

“I think science finds new creatures all the time. Who’s to say what is and isn’t real?”

“Huh. Interesting,” I huffed. I looked at the clock on the mantle. “Well, it seems Holmes I’ve survived your twenty-four hour quarantine and not turned into a beast yet.” I thought it was a funny joke given the conversation. I expected him to chuckle with me.

But instead, his face fell and darkened. “No indeed.” He nodded. “Goodnight, Watson.” 

And with that, he walked away to his room and I got the distinct impression that the statement upset him somehow. A funny feeling passed through me. Had that been it? Had he and his brother been watching me so closely because I was infected with some kind of virus? Had they been expecting me to turn into some kind of fantastical beast? Well that was ridiculous! Of course those things weren’t real. Holmes was just a man. A strange man, but a man nonetheless, who had scratched me in a moment of insanity. Nothing more to read into it. I had to stop reading bizarre fiction stories, that was certain. There was no such thing as crazed beasts. No werewolves or vampires here. Just an overprotective, moody, flatmate.

The link to AO3

A huge thank you to @helloliriels for the stunning cover art created for #FTH2026

Thank you to all my lovely supporters who have read my writing before. Please let me know if you want me to remove you before the next part! Or if you’d like to be tagged

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A bonus chapter today for you all - as I have to go back to work on Monday so I'm speeding up some of the posting!

by Holmesianlove

Chapter 8: Doctor Holmes

The sun had not lasted long and once the gloom and rain had returned, Holmes had whisked me immediately from the shop back to Baker Street. His mood had not improved. He dragged me straight to the bathroom, angrily, without a word and pulled out some medical supplies.

“Holmes, this is hardly necessary. It was just a scratch, a tiny cut,” I tried to interject, making light of it with an embarrassed laugh.

“Sit,” he demanded roughly.

I huffed a silent laugh. “I’m not sure if you know this, but I’m actually a surgeon? Actually you do know this. You recited my own life story back to me when we met. I still don’t know how you did that. So in any case, you know I’ve seen battle wounds. This is a tiny scratch. You must have nicked me in the scuffle of escaping from… What was that exactly? Are you planning on explaining that to me yet?” I waited but he was determined to stay silent. 

His jaw was clenched tightly. 

I let out a heavy sigh. “In any case, I saw men lose an arm and still get up to fight to their death. I will survive this, I can assure you,” I teased.

Somehow that statement made Holmes pale even further, if that was possible. “Soldiers are idiots,” was the only statement he made.

“Oh I see. Tell me your real sentiments on the subject,” I scoffed.

Holmes looked at me as if he might just do so, and then returned to prepare what he needed. “Watson, you are a highly intelligent man. You are not a soldier, you are a surgeon.”

“You barely speak to me, how can you pass judgement?”

“I just… know things,” he said stiffly.

“Do you?” I teased, as I watched him in silence.

“I do,” he huffed.

Holmes swiped some ointment on a cloth and began dabbing gently at the cut on my face. It made me hiss from the sting of it.

“What is that?” I grumbled.

“Something to ensure you won’t get infected with anything and the cut will stay clean.”

I frowned. “Really this isn’t necessary. You simply must have caught me with a fingernail, or your cufflink or your tooth even... something in the scuffle, it’s a tiny scratch with just a little bit of surface bleeding. You’re over reacting.”

“Shhh!” he hissed angrily, as he went in for a second round of cleaning. He leaned in extra close and I could hear his shallow stress breathing. Having him so close, observing me so intently, next to my face, those eyes so heavily focussed on me, made me almost stop breathing myself. I couldn't understand the intensity with which he was treating this tiny little gash. I regarded him and then his eyes drifted to mine and I sucked in a breath, embarrassed to be caught noticing him. For a moment the two of us froze, staring at each other. 

“I’m… sorry I injured you,” he whispered.

“Honestly, Holmes, you’re making an unnecessary fuss,” I said gently back, reaching up and touching his hand. I was trying to be genuine, to reassure him that I was unbothered, but it startled him and he pulled away, stepping back and moving to the other side of the bathroom like a terrified animal.

His gaze dropped to the floor uncomfortably.

“You should… lie down. I want you to lie down on the sofa, where I can keep watch on you tonight.”

“What?” I asked, starting to chuckle in disbelief.

“I just… need to make sure you don’t… have any infections or any... issues.”

“Holmes, this really is too much,” I tried to reassure him.

“Watson, I won’t hear of it,” he said more firmly. “You must sleep out where I can check on you.”

I frowned. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“You don’t need to understand. I was responsible and this is what I want. You only need to respect my request.”

I frowned, sighing heavily. “Alright. If it is that important to you?”

“It is.”

Though what good the reassurance did, I will not know. He vanished quickly into his room and shut the door violently. I could hear him talking to himself angrily through the door, though I dared not walk closer to listen in case he opened the door suddenly and caught me. I did as he asked and lay down on the sofa. I didn’t feel tired initially but I must have been exhausted from all the walking, as I passed out and slept very hard, until I felt a sense of someone watching me again and I startled awake. But it wasn’t Holmes checking on me at all, as he'd promised. It was his brother, the rude man I had the encounter with once before in this very same room. He was glaring at me, watching me very closely.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” I grunted, sitting up awkwardly.

He didn’t seem amused by my humour. He looked at his shoes instead, his brow creasing in a clear sign of disapproval. “Doctor Watson…”

I frowned. Somehow I could already tell from his tone that I was about to get a lecture, and he was looking forward to this moment. I was not really excited for it at all.

“I see you're still here.”

“Yes, is that unexpected?”

“Well, my brother has rented his rooms before with very little success, for much shorter periods of time.”

“I've only been here a week!”


“Yes, that’s quite successful, really. Wouldn't you say?” 

“I'm not sure. Is it? I'm a little confused about what you're trying to ask me.”

“What’s the nature of your relationship with my brother?” he demanded.

“Relationship? 
N-no, no, there's no relationship. I’m merely his... his... his... Well, I merely. 
That is to say, I…” I realised I was babbling and stuttering and sounding like an idiot. I cleared my throat. “He asked me to assist him.”

“Well, I see you've cleaned. Are you his housekeeper then?”

I didn’t like his tone and I lifted my chin in defiance. “No, he asked that I would assist him during the day on various tasks.” 

“Like cleaning,” he stated firmly. 

“Uh, no, that wasn't one of the tasks. I just took that upon myself.” 

“I see. And cooking?”

“I do cook, yes. Not that he ever eats. And, to help on cases. For his clients. We've been out on a case today, in fact,” I said proudly, desperate to salvage my reputation as a useful addition to Baker Street.

“Today?!” 
He looked out the window. “During the day? But it was… there… was… sun today.” 

I looked confused and then I started to wonder. 
“Does your brother have a condition?” 

“What do you mean?” The older brother looked startled by my question.

“Is he not supposed to be in the sunlight? 
I know of a couple of conditions where it's unsafe to be... in the sun? He’s been very cagey about why he never goes out. It was the strangest thing… When we went out it was raining but he reacted quite badly when the weather changed and I... 
I was concerned for him. It’s just that he never talks about himself… and there was a little incident… and he’s been in his room ever since…” I looked down towards his door.

“Well, is he alright?” His brother looked concerned and started to get out of his chair.

“I’m not sure. He's been acting very strange. 
The sun came out, and he rushed us inside quite suddenly, and then in the scuffle, I suppose he scratched me, or cut me or something. It was merely an accident but he–”

“He scratched you?! Did he break the skin? Let me see.” The man rushed forward, crowding over me.

“It's fine. 
He simply…” Once again I was caught by surprise, not expecting his reaction and couldn’t understand what I was missing.

“So you’ve been lying down then? Did he treat it? 
Did he treat it, Dr Watson?” His words came out in a forceful flurry.

“Yes…” My brow furrowed, confused by the exchange and his sudden shift into such desperation. The two of them were behaving oddly.

“With the ointment? He used the ointment?!” He pressed.

“Yes, yes, he treated it with that awful ointment. I’m perfectly fine. 
Goodness gracious. You both know I'm a surgeon, do you not? It doesn't even need stitches. 
It was a small cut. I doubt it will even leave a scar in a week or two when the wound heals.” 

“You mustn't move. Stay right where you are. 
No sudden movements. Don't over-exert yourself. Just rest.” He frowned. 

His face looked so grave I felt my blood turn cold as if all my medical training had suddenly left me. “I don’t… I don’t understand what…”

“Let me check on my brother, and then I will come and bring you some fluids. Do you understand me? It's of utmost importance. Stay where you are,” he said so forcefully that for the first time I didn’t even want to argue. 


“You’re both as strange as each other, you know that?” I managed to say under my breath. 

“Believe what you will, Doctor Watson, so long as you do as we say,” he said gravely as he walked away.

“Yes, all right,” I agreed, and settled back into the cushions.

The link to AO3

A huge thank you to @helloliriels for the stunning cover art created for #FTH2026

Thank you to all my lovely supporters who have read my writing before. Please let me know if you want me to remove you before the next part! Or if you’d like to be tagged

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by Holmesianlove

Chapter 7: On the Case

“So... What is this errand that we're running?” I asked, after I had followed him in silence long enough. 

“I’m... 
a detective, Watson,” he finally offered in reply.

“You are?” I turned my head to look at him, eyes widening.

“Yes. 
Among other things,’’ he offered, as if that made it so much more palatable. 

“Among other things?” 

“Yes.” 

I was astonished. Suddenly finding him the way I had done in the alleyway seemed to make more sense. At least… maybe it did?

“Right. And so... we're... detecting now?” 

He gave me a withering look. “Investigating... is the present participle you're looking for.” 

“Ah. 
I thank you, kind sir.” I gave him an overly dramatic gesture with my hand, signalling a regal bow, but he ignored me and I felt completely ridiculous for it, returning my hand to my pocket instead. “And so... What exactly are we... investigating then?” 

“My client seems to have misplaced a valuable item. A precious statue... a family heirloom. 
Someone seems to have taken it from his study and it is my…” He cleared his throat and looked over at me. “Our job, to locate its whereabouts.” 

I felt suddenly thrilled. Our job? He was including me in this investigation? I would not let him down. I thought hard about what to ask next but he was so serious about everything. I couldn’t help myself. “Has he looked around his house? Tidied up a bit? If it looks anything like yourapartment, it's likely to just be underneath a pile of papers,” I scoffed, pleased with myself for the useful suggestion tied up in a playful jibe.

“Thank you for your assessment, 
Watson. Yes, we have tried all of the obvious places.” 

I couldn’t tell if Holmes liked my suggestion or thought I was an idiot.

“He believes that one of his staff has stolen it and sold it for gold. 
It's very valuable,” Holmes carried on. 

“How valuable?” Suddenly my interest was piqued. 

“This piece is worth fifty pounds.”

I stopped walking. This was no small job. He paused with me. “Oh, I see. That's… considerable.” 

“Quite.”

“
And so, we are…?” 

“Investigating,” he said simply, beginning to walk again and I followed suit. 

“Investigating, I see.” I nodded. “Where does one start with such matters?” 

“I have a few people knowledgeable in such things, antiquities, dealerships. 
I am planning to speak to a few of my learned friends. See if they have come across the item. 
It's quite unusual. Likely to be something that people in the field will speak of amongst each other when it becomes available for sale.”

“Brilliant,” I interjected. He looked at me a little surprised by the compliment. It seemed to throw him off for a moment before he composed himself. 

“Failing that, we shall attend some gatherings.”

“We shall?” I turned my head, looking surprised. 

“Yes, I think so, if you're amenable to such things?” He stopped walking again to look at me. For a moment he seemed… nervous.

I was embarrassed to realise I blushed under his close scrutiny. “Certainly, I could... I… Yes, I could.” 

He let out a little sigh of relief and nodded happily. “Excellent, then we will attend some gatherings and listen to the gossip. 
Wealthy people love to gossip. About antiquities – items, they feel they have acquired at a bargain. Somebody will absolutely not be able to help themselves. And if the wealthy won't, certainly the servants might. One of us can sneak into the servants' quarters and also listen in.” 

“Oh… I see. You are suggesting that I would fit in better downstairs?” The disappointment was clear in my voice. I had briefly forgotten my place in the excitement.

“I said no such thing. I simply…” 

“Hmm. I'll try not to be offended but your meaning was apparent, Holmes. You are wealthy and I am not. I would be better suited downstairs. I shall go where you need me to. I’d like to be of use. That was the purpose of my moving in. The arrangement, was it not?”

“Watson, I said no such thing.” 

Suddenly, he seemed wrong-footed and our conversation stopped. Tension had returned between us. We continued to walk in silence. I could tell he was deep in thought and we didn’t discuss the topic again. I followed him in silence as we visited two different, unusual stores selling nick-knacks and strange items, books and antiquities out on the Main Street. Stores I had never been into before. At one point I nearly cried aloud and embarrassed myself when an unmounted, stuffed bear’s head caught me by surprise. 

My feet were starting to ache from the amount of walking across London we had managed without my cane for support and my ears had begun to ring from the deafening silence between us. “Goodness, it really is a gloomy day, isn't it?” I couldn’t help saying aloud, as we rounded yet another corner. 
I gathered my coat closer to my body, desperate to try and keep out the chill, which seemed not to affect Holmes in the slightest. 
As if my words had called to the heavens in a plea, the clouds suddenly parted and the sun appeared out of nowhere. Before I could even comment, I heard the strangest noise, like an animal in pain. I didn't realise it was Holmes at first. It was almost like a squeal. 
And he grabbed at me and pulled me into another shop, knocking the wind right out of me. 

“Holmes, 
what the devil?!” I shouted in fright. 

I barely have a memory of what happened next but I swear my feet left the ground and I moved faster than felt humanly possible. Suddenly I was inside a very dark and very musty store, a ringing in my ears. It took a moment before I understood it was the doorbell instigated upon our entry. Holmes had  the front of my coat firmly grasped in his hands and had shoved me quite firmly against a wall inside the store. We were pressed together against the wall as if we were hiding for our lives from the law.

I breathed heavily, trying to work out what had occurred to cause this response and I looked up at him to see him also breathing at a rapid pace, in a blind panic. “Holmes?” I asked gently, trying to see if he was alright. His eyes were clasped tightly shut and he was not listening at all. “Holmes?” I asked again, trying to get his attention. “Are you quite alright?”

He nodded frantically, but didn’t open his eyes at all. “I don’t… understand what happened just now. Why are we—?”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked down at me. And I lost the ability to speak. Those eyes were looking right into mine, panicked, frightened.

“Well now, we’re alright. I don’t know what caused your response... but everything is—“ 

His eyes had started moving across my face and he gasped, stepping away from me, letting go of my coat as if I was hurting him and then he suddenly grabbed at my face and now it was my turn to suck in a breath in surprise.

“Holmes?”

“You’re… you’re cut…” As quickly as he had touched me he let go and stepped away as if touching me caused him great pain. 

“Holmes?” My face was drawn with concern and I didn’t understand what was happening at all. The two of us stood there awkwardly and I had no comprehension of what was the cause of it.

“You’re bleeding,” he choked out, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket and handing it to me, as he looked away.

“Oh. Sorry I…”

Holmes started pacing and mumbling to himself and occasionally glancing in my direction. Apparently I had done something criminal based on his reaction. Perhaps he had a fear of blood? Some people were afflicted with that - a sudden weakness that came over them when they smelled it or saw it. Perhaps he didn’t want to be embarrassed by it in my presence? Perhaps he felt faint?

“Ah Mister Holmes! What a lovely surprise!” The shopkeeper cried out. “We rarely see you during the day. What can I do for you?”

Holmes flashed me an angry look, before disappearing into the store to speak to the owner, leaving me absolutely confused. I turned to look in an antique mirror on the wall, dabbing at the scratch on my cheek and wondering what on earth had just occurred between us.

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by Holmesianlove

Chapter 6: An Invitation

After that strange encounter, life at Baker Street became a calm routine passing without much conversation, the occasional cup of tea shared, though he never seemed to drink much of it. He offered and accepted them as if it was a peace offering, a nicety, a way of communicating. A ritual. We would sit in silence, looking at our tea. Somehow, it never felt awkward though. There was a comfortable familiarity in it, as if we had known each other for many years and had reached this point of quiet companionship naturally over time. Sometimes, I would ask questions, and he would answer with very short responses. 
Not much was gleaned from our conversations. Occasionally, I would read the paper and tell him the highlights of what I had read. I did eventually remember to tell him the tale of my mysterious night visitor. On that occasion, he had been delighted, demanding every word be recounted in detail. He seemed to find my behaviour on the occasion outstanding. I, in turn, was horrified to learn the intruder was not his lawyer at all, but his older brother, Mycroft. Holmes, on the other hand, seemed to find the entire encounter very much to his liking. Apparently kicking his brother out raised me even further in his esteem somehow.

But there was still mystery despite our new comfortable routines. He wouldn't speak of his secret outings and I didn't want to pry. Mostly, he would go out as I was on my way to bed. 
I would be awake in the day sometimes with no sign of him just as he had predicted. 

Until one wintry, particularly gloomy day; when it had rained for a couple of days with no reprieve. The skies were dark, the rain had set in, and 
I was heavily ensconced in the prose of Oscar Wilde. A gentle throat clearing caught my attention and I raised my eyes to find him, leaning against the door frame, watching me. He was fully dressed – quite out of character for him during the day. Usually, if he ever surfaced, he would be in his satin robe and comfortable pyjamas. So, it was quite a surprise to find him in his dashing three piece suit, a top hat in his hand, a smirk on his lips as he watched me read. 

“Sorry. 
Have you been waiting for me?” I asked. 

“Have you anything important in your calendar today, 
Doctor Watson?” he asked. 

“I... No, I... was... 
planning a quiet day inside with the weather as it is”. 

“Well, come on, then, I have... a better idea.” 

“You're going outside? In the daytime?” I asked, shocked.


He smiled. He smiled at me. 

“I think I just might. 
I have an errand to run, and the weather seems quite perfect for it.”

 I frowned, looking out the window. “This? This is the perfect weather to go outside?” 

“For me it is, yes.” He grinned with delight. “Are you coming?” 

“You want me to come?!” 

“Yes.” He nodded. Enthusiastically in fact.

Well, I have to admit, I embarrassed myself by leaping up a little too eagerly and almost knocking over my tea cup. 
The thought of finally being invited to join him on his outing was far too enticing. I grabbed my coat, hat, and cane – which had been returned by the Inspector – and quickly followed. 

“You don’t need that,” he said, gesturing at my cane as he stepped out onto the street.

Without argument, I left the cane in the coat racks by the door and followed him out.

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by Holmesianlove

Chapter 5: A Strange Visitor

Strangely, upon returning to Mister Holmes’ rooms the next day, there was no one there. In fact, for most of the day the place seemed deserted. It felt almost intrusive to unpack my things without his presence, despite us shaking on the agreement. It seemed he had no housekeeper at present. I made myself useful, straightening up a few things, washing the dirty tea cups in the sink. I tried not to disturb the half finished, strange looking experiment on the dining table. I went to the grocer, returning to cook us a warm meal. When night came, Holmes was still yet to appear. My stomach had begun to grumble loudly, so I fed myself, finally settling by the fire to read one of the impressive books from his many shelves. He startled me then, when he surfaced unexpectedly from his own bedroom with a dramatic yawn. He entered, wrapped in an elegant robe, his slippers scuffing gently against the floor.

“Oh good, you’ve arrived.” He smiled, briefly. It seemed genuine - his face even lighting up for the very short-lived moment. It felt good to be appreciated, even if so fleetingly.

“I hope you don’t mind, I tidied a bit and cooked a meal - if you’d care for some?”

He looked surprised. “Not hungry. But thank you. I hope you fed yourself?”

I nodded politely.

“You found the books. Do help yourself. I’ve read them all. They may as well get some more attention.”

“What? All of them?” My brow instantly scrunched in confusion as I looked around at the many shelves surrounding us. 

“Oh yes. A dozen times or more,” he said flippantly, not thinking much of the statement.

I could not imagine how anyone had the time. He had to be exaggerating. “But I–”

“I need to go out for a while. Don’t wait up. Have you found everything you need?” he asked, as he removed his robe, draping it over the other armchair. He was already dressed in a beautiful waistcoat and dress pants complete with a stunning gold pocket watch that gleamed as it dangled at my eye height. Holmes grabbed a coat from a hook near the door and completed his outfit, straightening his shirt cuffs and buttoning his coat before turning to check on my response.

I nodded, noting that I felt a sudden pang of disappointment, not only that he was leaving already, but that I wasn’t invited along. He seemed to notice the expression on my face as his own face looked concerned.

“Don’t worry. There will be other times when I may perhaps need you to join me. This is not one of those times and I’d like you to have room to settle in, unhindered. Consider this place yours also, Watson. The only thing I ask is that my room is off limits. It’s my only private space.” He waited for me to agree. 

“John,” I said in reply. It felt so formal to now be living together and still be addressing each other in such a way.

“Sorry?”

“My name. It’s John. But yes, I agree.”

“Very well then, Watson. I shall be on my way. That dinner does smell most excellent. I am pleased to know I have such a good cook for a house mate, that will be very useful for when we need to invite guests over.” He grinned. “Enjoy your book.”

And with that he disappeared, leaving me once again in silence. Somehow the room felt strangely warmer when he left and yet less vibrant at the same time. It was a confusing brew of sensations. I wanted to get to know this man. He was so mysterious. And so distant. I had a very real sense that he seemed enthralled at my presence, and knowledgeable about me without having asked me a thing yet. I was at a complete disadvantage. I knew nothing about him. I couldn't begin to understand what I had committed myself to. I was so busy daydreaming about it, in fact, I didn’t hear a new person arrive until the loud throat clearing caught my attention and I looked up to find an imposing figure in the middle of the room, glaring at me. I was embarrassed to discover him, unsure of how long I had let my mind wander.

He was dressed in an elegant pin striped three piece suit, his gold fob watch glinting in the fire light. It reminded me of Holmes’ watch earlier. He leaned his weight on an umbrella with a gold embellished handle and his hair was slicked very tightly against his scalp. “I don’t believe we have been introduced,” he said very stiffly.

I closed my book and looked him up and down before standing. “Well no. One generally knocks before entering an apartment, so I suppose that would usually be how one begins an introduction. If we’re discussing etiquette," I offered sharply.

He didn’t seem to like that answer. His lips pursed tightly like he had sucked a tart lemon. “You misunderstand me. It was you who I felt was misplaced, sir. Does Mister Holmes know you are in his rooms?”

“Ah… yes,” I frowned. “Of course he does. Does he know you are here? Have you made an appointment?” I tried again. “He is currently out on an errand.”

The man cleared his throat again and looked at his shoes, which I also observed were impeccably shined, Italian imported leather. This man was very unhappy indeed. With what, I couldn’t discern. But I was absolutely the cause of it. “Let’s begin this again. Who exactly are you and why are you in Mister Holmes’ lounge?”

“One would think if I am here already upon your arrival, it should be me asking you that question first, wouldn’t you suppose?” I replied, enjoying the game far too much. “For how would I be sitting here reading a book comfortably, if Mister Holmes had not invited me in here in the first place?”

He lifted his shoulders stiffly. “I suppose you are the flatmate he was hoping to find then?”

“I suppose I must be. So that answers one question. It still doesn’t help me with who you are though, does it? And why you are standing here, demanding answers without knocking on the door and waiting to be invited in, like a civilised human.”

“I am someone concerned with the welfare of Mister Holmes.”

“I see. His solicitor then, by the look of you.” I sat again, opening my book to show my lack of interest in his intimidation, and gave my attention back to the page I had been on, to find my place again as I spoke. “He’s out for the evening. And one should not be conducting business at such a late hour in any case. I would imagine that rather impolite. And unnecessarily overpriced too, for a solicitor. I expect when he returns home he will want to enjoy his respite. Good day to you, sir. I shall let him know you stopped by. If you would like to leave me your card?”

“I will do no such thing. I will wait for his return,” the stubborn man offered, his voice giving off just the slightest edge of indignation.

“Well I would like to enjoy my reading material and you have sucked most of the oxygen right out of the room already, so I think not. And as we have not been properly introduced, I would ask you to come again at another time when he is here to receive you properly. Thank you very much.”

“I'm not sure I like you, as his lodger,” he sneered.

“I’m not sure that is your decision to make. And, as it seems I’ve moved my belongings in already, your opinion is unwelcome. So… I shall let him know you hold grave concerns and that you stopped by. Thank you.”

I continued focussing on my book, ignoring him entirely. I heard a heavy sigh and when I looked up again, the man was, thankfully, gone.

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A huge thank you to @helloliriels for the stunning cover art created for #FTH2026

Thank you to all my lovely supporters who have read my writing before. Please let me know if you want me to remove you before the next part! Or if you’d like to be tagged

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by Holmesianlove

Because I'm impatient. Just like all of you. Have another chapter!

Chapter 4: The Contract

The flat was indeed lovelier than my own. An eclectic mix of antiques, interesting books, experiment paraphernalia and papers strewn everywhere. He had what I am fairly sure was a Stradivarius simply laid out on a table as if it held no value. A skull sat on the mantle. An actual human skull! The fire was already well stoked. Somehow, his rooms were equal measures of eerie and homely all at once. 

I nodded as I looked about. 

“So?” he asked eagerly, hands placed behind his back in anticipation, watching me.

“What exactly am I agreeing to here… Mister…?” I asked, realising we hadn’t even finished our formal introductions yet.

“Holmes. It’s Sherlock Holmes. I sleep during the day. I’m not very talkative. And I tend to work a lot during the night. I may want you to come with me at times, or I may need you to do some leg work for me during the daylight hours while I rest. I can’t be out during the day.”

I looked across at him, finding his statement odd, and yet he continued as if this was nothing out of the ordinary to mention. Then again, placed amongst so many other oddities it did somehow seem strangely normal.

“I can be moody. I don’t eat or drink much. I can play my violin for hours on end. It helps me think. I am not very sociable. But you won’t have to pay much rent. That is mostly taken care of. It’s comfortable. It’s central. And I will pay you a wage. It’s certainly nicer than that place you are currently lodging in.” 

I opened my mouth to argue, extremely affronted. Then again, he was not incorrect in his assessment of it. This entire encounter should have made me immensely uncomfortable but I was instead confused to find that I was enthralled by it. My pulse was thrumming with excitement. I was entertained. I did not want to leave the room, despite a very small part of my instincts trying to urge me that there was danger here.

He looked at me and there was something hopeful in his eyes. He needed me. I wasn’t sure I understood why. I was certainly confused by the whole situation. Despite this, I had nothing else going on in my life. I was only waiting out the days until I thought of a more interesting way to end my own and somehow he knew that. I had nothing to lose. And so it was agreed. We shook hands briefly and he gave me a key. The man’s hands were the iciest I had ever felt. He quickly let go and mumbled something about bad circulation, misplacing his gloves and needing to sit by the fire amongst his apologies as he thanked me with a gentle smile which I found to be quite lovely. It was the first time I had seen him smile openly. We made arrangements for my belongings to be brought to the flat the next day and with that, I said my farewells and left. I practically floated home, unsure if I had imagined the encounter, half expecting to find it had been a dream.

Chapter 5 tomorrow...

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by Holmesianlove

I will post a chapter each day (there are 14)  AO3 link below as well.

Chapter 3 - Avoidance

I brought him a cup of tea, and those eyes never left me. He had not said a word. It was incredibly unnerving. I had not received a name, or an explanation. He had followed me willingly, once the police had released him into my care. It felt strange, to lie, to take charge of a situation, in order to ensure the mystery man didn’t leave my sight again. In truth, I wasn’t entirely convinced that he was real until the Inspector had arrived and started speaking to him in person. Until that moment I was convinced I was hallucinating. How could the man I had seen on a few strange and isolated occasions, usually either drunk, or in agony, be right here in front of me? Surely it could only be explained as another hallucination? Perhaps a response to trauma? I had witnessed a murder and in my moment of horror, the very same man had appeared again? Surely that must be it. Only this time he was real. This time? Had he been real every time? Or only this time? I had so many questions. Was I allowed to ask them? Would he even speak to me? How could he possibly have been present at the Battle of Maiwand? Surely that one had been a hallucination?

I sat opposite him. “I’m… ah… Watson. Doctor… John Watson,” I offered awkwardly.

He smiled at his tea cup, not looking at me. “I know,” he said, nodding.

I frowned. “You… you know?”

He simply nodded as his only reply.

“Well how is that possible? We’ve never met!” I asked.

His smirk was somehow equal measures of irritating and charming because he was clearly in on some sort of joke that I had no knowledge of and I didn’t enjoy not knowing.

“Doctor John H. Watson studied at St Bartholomew's Hospital in London, receiving your medical degree from the University of London, with further training at Netley as an assistant surgeon in the British Army. Sent to India with the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers Regiment of Foot before being attached to the Sixty-sixth Berksire Regiment of Foot. Wounded at the Battle of Maiwand, suffered an enteric fever and sent back to England on the troopship HMS Orontes. Your family is all gone now and you’re leading a rather tragic and lonely life wandering London and drinking yourself to an early grave, which is a sad and sorry state of affairs given your god-given talent as a surgeon and the fact that you have simply got a psychosomatic limp.”

“You read Heinroth? You know of psychosomatic disorders?” Was all I could think of to say in reply as I sank back in my chair. I swallowed hard, staring at the man who simply stared back. “And besides, I assure you my limp is…”

“You left your cane in that alleyway and you haven’t needed it for an hour. You practically carried me up that staircase without it,” the man said simply, to end the discussion. “This is a rather depressing flat, if I may observe.”

“You are rather impertinent, for a man who very nearly died and was just rescued.”

“Oh I assure you that was mere theatre,” he retorted.

“I beg your pardon?”

“For your benefit,“ he added, with a little bow of his head.

“For my…?!”

“Indeed.” He gave a half smile and then sipped his tea politely and returned his cup to his lap.

I looked horrified. I was certain of that. The man was entirely far too familiar. And yet somehow I was intrigued and excited by it. No one had ever been close enough to me to be bestowed that honour. He made my pulse beat faster. I had no idea what he would say next and it was the most electrifying thing I had ever felt.

He sipped at his tea again, his eyes never leaving mine, making every one of my nerve endings light up without having to lift a finger to touch me. He was… observing me. And enjoying it.

“Are you going to tell me about yourself then?” I attempted to ask.

He simply shook his head slowly from side to side, still maintaining eye contact.

“I have a spare room, nicer than this. Perhaps you would like to see it? I could use a doctor. If you would like employment?”

“What exactly were you doing in that alleyway?” I asked.

“Not important.” He put down the cup and grabbed his coat. “Come on then. I assume you’re interested.” And with that he walked out, expecting me to follow. His coat billowed behind him in a ridiculous and enticing flourish as he left the room.

“My life isn’t tragic and lonely!” I called out to him as I sat there for all of a minute longer before I finally leapt up and followed.

Chapter 4 tomorrow…

A huge thank you to @helloliriels for the stunning cover art created for #FTH2026

Read from the beginning on AO3

Thank you to all my lovely supporters who have read my writing before. Please let me know if you want me to remove you before the next part! Or if you’d like to be tagged

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by Holmesianlove

A huge thank you to @helloliriels for the stunning cover art created for #FTH2026 I will post a chapter each day (there are 14)  AO3 link below as well. Let me know if you want to be tagged for updates!

Chapter 2 - Making Acquaintances

When I awoke I was told that I suffered an enteric fever and had been unconscious for three weeks. A soldier had brought me in from the battlefield and somehow, I had miraculously healed. I was sent home to London. Home is such a subjective word for it, though, with no family, and a pension barely worthy to live off. Adding to that an injury which made it impossible to work, I almost longed to have died in the war, or perhaps to have been sent back to be killed properly to have ended the emptiness that festered inside. For many days upon my return, I wandered aimlessly, finding myself hopelessly drawn back to establishments. Somehow, I thought if I could achieve that state of mind I had been in the night before I first travelled to war, I might find that stranger again, that face with the magic eyes. Maybe I could somehow conjure him up from somewhere. I knew it was a ridiculous fantasy, for no matter how many times I tried, I was left feeling empty, helpless and alone. 

Well, perhaps not alone. There was always something strange. I constantly felt like I was being observed. However, when I turned, there was never anyone behind me. It seemed paranoia had been a gift I had returned with also. The only relief I found from it was at the end of a bottle. When I had the coin spare I would find myself at a variety of taverns in the town, it mattered not which ones. I spent many early hours limping about the London streets, stumbling aimlessly, alone with no purpose, feeling helpless. For what was a soldier with no mission, a surgeon with no patients, a man with no family meant to do with his life? I was utterly useless on this earth now. 

It was on one particular night, as I bumbled about, that I was to come upon an attack in a nearby alleyway. I heard a scuffle and some loud grunting. I looked down into the dimly lit, narrow space to see a group of people, all in dark clothing. It was hard to tell how many were there, or what was the cause of the commotion. Was it a strange lover’s tryst? Was it a mugging? A murder? Should I involve myself at all? My soldier’s instinct, boredom and if I was honest, the fact that I had no desire to live made me move forward, faster than I had anticipated. I dropped my cane and rushed into the alley.

“You there? What are you about? Do you need assistance?” I called, as I moved toward the noise. 

The shuffling instantly stopped, the huddle froze, but no faces appeared.

“I say, do you need help?” I tried again.

I heard whispering and suddenly the group dispersed. One body remained on the ground, unmoving. Another collapsed back and three pushed past me, as they took off at an alarming speed. I knew I wouldn’t be able to catch them; not in my state of injury and drink. I rushed forward to observe a lady who was pale and somewhat beyond help and a man in a weakened state. I saw familiar dark curls and as he turned his head to look at me, I knew at once.

“It’s you,” I gasped as he closed his light eyes and let his head drop back to the ground.

Chapter 3 tomorrow…

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