It has been 5 years since my stag night, yet I can still picture the events clearly. I know it turned out to be a big disappointment, but still not a night goes by where I don't wish with all my heart I could relive it once again. Can you guess what part of the evening I loved the most? Well I'll help you. It wasn't when we went to all the pubs, or when we visited the apartment of some dead guy or something. (I was too drunk to even care what I was doing there). Still can't guess that one moment I can't get out of my fucking head? It was when we were sitting on our armchairs, playing a game. We both drunkenly stumbled off our chairs and to get myself back up again, I grabbed his knee and crouched in that position for a while. And that is the memory. The memory that has let me question my sexuality so many times. The memory that has allowed me to ask myself whether marrying Mary was the right decision. But there is nothing to be done. Sherlock has no idea that I feel this way about him, just like he doesn't realise that anybody loves him. And Mary is my wife, and I love her. Just not as much as I love Mr Sherlock Holmes.