Oh How I've Missed You, Holmes
Watson sat, absolutely stunned, at the table while, across from him, Holmes calmly served them each a dish of scrambled eggs. It was rather a long time before either one of them finally broke the silence.
“But I don’t understand,” said Watson, causing Holmes to smile slightly - it was so very typical of him.
“I don’t see what there is to misinterpret,” he replied smoothly, buttering a slice of toast. “In essence, it’s really quite simple - a concept which, at its heart, is simplicity itself, conveyed in three short, simple words.” He carefully added two lumps of sugar to his tea. “I. Love. You.”
“Yes, I understand that,” Watson frowned slightly, “but if you think this entire thing is simple, I believe you must be missing something.”
“Such as?”
“Such as the law,” Watson pointed out.
“You don’t honestly believe that to be a problem, do you, Watson?” Holmes asked lightly, spearing three rashers of bacon on a knife and transferring them to his plate.
“Well, not necessarily,” said the doctor evasively, watching as Holmes proceeded to slice his bacon. “But suppose I’m not a homosexual?”
“Oh, I never doubted that,” said Holmes, picking up another slice of toast and the marmalade. “Your experience with women speaks loudly enough, after all. But not every man is infallible, and I have made enough observations to draw a certain conclusion.”
“And that would be?”
“That you, in fact, love me.” Holmes did not look up from his toast, setting it carefully on his plate and reaching for the milk.
Watson schooled his lips from a smile, watching the detective from the corner of his eye. “But suppose that your conclusion were wrong,” he said. “I have seen you make mistakes before, Holmes.”
For an instant, the perpetual curves at the edges of Holmes’ mouth flickered. “I don’t believe I could have made quite so grievous an error,” he said, serving himself a helping of scrambled eggs.
“I should be insulted, Holmes,” Watson remarked as the detective added a rasher of bacon to his plate and picked up his knife. “Any gentleman faced with such insinuations would surely turn you in to the police.”
“Which would be why I have fallen in love with you, Watson, and not any gentleman,” Holmes stressed, carefully manoeuvring his eggs and bacon into place, making room for his toast.
“I see.” Watson waited for Holmes to finished adding milk and sugar to his tea before he spoke again. “Well then, Holmes, I suppose I have reason to thank you.”
“For what, precisely?” Holmes asked inquisitively, reaching for the toast.
“Well, saving me years of heartache, for one.” Holmes smiled at this, and Watson watched as the lines around his eyes relaxed and he put down his toast, now spread with a thick layer of raspberry jam. “For another, you’ve given me a few minutes of quality entertainment,” the doctor added.
“Oh?” Holmes prompted.
“You do realise that you’ve given yourself two servings of scrambled eggs, four thoroughly shredded rashers of bacon, three slices of toast with a variety of different spreads, as well as tea with triple the amount of milk you usually take and five teaspoons of sugar.” Holmes froze in the process of reaching once more for the eggs. “Either you are taking my advice concerning your diet to heart, or you are very, very distracted.” Watson leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Now, what could distract Sherlock Holmes?” he asked mockingly, finally turning fully to look Holmes in the eye - if only the detective would meet his gaze. “Could it be that you are nervous?”
“Suppose that I am,” said Holmes evenly, his attempts at regaining his composure all too obvious to the doctor. “What exactly would you be willing to do about it?”
Watson didn’t answer except to push his chair away from the table and pluck his napkin from his lap, folding it neatly and placing it beside his plate. Holmes’ gaze followed the doctor’s movements as he stood, calmly stepped around the corner of the table and, leaning down with one hand on the back of the detective’s chair and the other planted firmly on the table, kissed him squarely on the lips.
“I thought that you didn’t love anybody, Holmes,” Watson said softly as he pulled away just slightly, revelling in the look of wonder that had come over his companion’s features.
“To be honest, I thought quite the same,” Holmes replied, with not quite all of his usual confidence.
“So you are fallible.”
“Only where you are concerned, Watson.”
Watson smiled beneath his moustache. “At least you were correct on one point,” he said.
“And that would be?” Holmes asked carefully.
“I certainly do love you,” said Watson with finality.
Holmes smiled, all pleasant triumph and renewed confidence. “Then is there any particular obstruction to your kissing me again?” he said. Watson’s smile reached out, his lips parting.
“None at all,” he replied, leaning in once more.