#SherlockLove💜

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.

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

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…

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 let me know 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 to go with this story. Our fandom is so lucky to have artists of this calibre! BIG LOVE TO YOU!

I will post a chapter each day (there are 14) and they will also go up on AO3 as well.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Obsession

The first time I encountered him was the night before I deployed. Whisky-laden and uneasy, my judgement was no doubt questionable, but even then, there was no mistaking the colour of those eyes. In the dim, flickering candle light, I somehow instinctively recognised they were the wildest blue-green hue like the sea right before a storm takes hold. I’d seen nothing like them before. They seemed to bore a hole right through the centre of my chest and took hold in my brain at the very same time. How it was possible I could not tell you. I was transfixed, reminded instantly of my last visit to my grandmother’s home in Aberdeen, when I would sit on the rocky hill, watching the ships as they were tossed about in rough seas, bringing the soldiers home from battle. Back when my own dreams of becoming a soldier first took hold. I could not have invented those eyes in my own imagination. As they glared through me from across the bar, my heart leapt in my chest as if he was controlling the very rhythm of my atria and ventricles. He drew me to him, urging me closer. Yet, before I could even get off my stool to move, he had vanished just as if he had never been there. 

Time to go to bed, Watson, I admonished myself. At the time, I assumed it was the drink that was responsible for the strange encounter. 

The rock-hard mattress upstairs in my pub lodgings were not in any way conducive to sleeping but it was all my meagre coin could afford me before boarding the ship to head off to battle and I put the strange occurrence out of my mind.

The second time we crossed paths was on the battlefield. When I was shot in fact. In the midst of the Second Anglo-Afghan War, at the Battle of Maiwand, as I tended to the wounded. There I was, a surgeon trying to heal the injured, when I was shot by a bloody jezail bullet, right through the shoulder; or so the tale was recounted to me after the fact. One minute I was upright and the next, I was staring up at a sky, grey with clouds and surrounded by smoke, explosions and shouting. All muffled around me as my body processed the shock. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there but suddenly those eyes came swiftly into focus. Those sea-glass eyes, crazed with concern and fear, instantly above me. 

I’ve been told that pain and shock create the strangest of coping mechanisms. I have heard many an unusual tale from soldiers in their beds – parents or siblings that have visited from across the seas, long dead relatives, impossible visions that men recall with unmitigated seriousness. Of course none of it is true. I suspect whatever inebriated vision I had in that pub, manifested out of a fear of going to war, had visited me again as I lay bleeding out on the field awaiting my death. Probably my hippocampus - my younger self, remembering the proud desire for battle - invented him entirely to begin with. His dark, beautiful curls framing that pale perfect skin which made those eyes all the more alluring and those bowed lips... Lord, he was a magnificent sight. If I was dying, it wasn’t a bad way to leave this earth, that was for sure. My breathing slowed and I felt an incredible calm come over me that he had found me again. I closed my eyes and I was sure I felt a gentle, cold hand touch my cheek.

Chapter 2 tomorrow...

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@starlitkeys @lumilama @yorkiepug @talkativeanxiousturtle @kettykika78 

@givemesherbet-blog-blog @naefelldaurk @a-victorian-girl @phoenix27884 @peanitbear