If it had not been Holmes, I doubt I would have noticed.
It was cold. It was cold and stormy, but inside the rooms of 221b Baker Street there was a hearty fire crackling in the hearth to keep the chill at bay. I was sitting in my favourite armchair by the fire, reading, while Holmes prattled on about something or other. I was not really paying attention but it was somewhat hard to ignore him, when he suddenly was right there in front of you. Holmes was right there, inches from me and the space between us was electric. The gap was closing as he leaned in even closer. He leaned in, and as he spoke, his lips brushed against my own. My stomach lurched, as if I had jumped off a high tower. When I was too stunned to pull away, he pressed his lips to mine for a moment too brief for me to react. Holmes pulled away, a gleam in his hard, grey eyes and continued his monologue of the consistency of tree sap as if nothing out of sorts had occurred.
"What was that?!" I demanded. Holmes looked miffed at having his speech interrupted.
"What was what, my dear doctor?" Holmes laughed. Oh, how I would have loved to smack the laughter right off his smug face. He must have deduced my strange feelings for him and acted upon them. Why else would he do something so absurd and blatantly illegal? I was used to Holmes conducted experiments, often with me as the test subject; but could he possibly gain from kissing me?
"You just kissed me!" I damn near shouted, right into his face. I was irritated beyond belief at his air of innocence, not to mention confused by his actions.
"I did not." He returned smoothly, as if I had accused him of leaving the stove (which he had done, but I digress). "Believe me, when I say this, Watson. You would know if I kissed you…"
"Then what the hell was that? If not a kiss then, pray tell what?!"
"It was an experiment," he said simply. Oh, so I was right. He was not returning my bizarre feelings for him. He was using me as a means to an end.
"Well then, I hope the results were to your liking, Holmes." I said, a little unevenly. I ignored the lump gathering at the back of my throat as I gathered my hat, stick, and coat. "I shall not be returning tonight, Holmes, so don't wait up."
"Where would you be going at such a late hour, my dear man? All your usual haunts will be closed by now and you have neither kith nor kin to drop in on."
"Out," I replied. "I'm just going out." I slammed the door behind me before he could reply. Pulling my coat tight around me, I made my way to the park; nothing like a midnight stroll to calm the raging mind.
I still was not sure what to make of Holmes' kiss. He had said it was an experiment. If it was, and he knew of the way I felt, than Holmes was a crueller man than I should give him credit for. If he had not yet deduced the truth, then for what reason had he kissed me? For what other oddball reason would he feel the urge to? Although I must say on things to his credit, he had told me enough to keep me from deluding that he might return my feelings for him. I was not sure when they had developed but I definitely had feelings for the man I lived with. Somewhere between the events of a Study in Scarlet and Reinbach, I had realised that I felt for him, much more than mere companionship; or even friendship. After the fall, I had wandered around aimlessly for weeks; sleeping and eating only when I had to. Mrs Hudson had damn near thrown me out, by the time Holmes returned. Holmes had always said he was lost without his Boswell, but he did not yet realise that his Boswell was just as lost without him.
"Watson!" I turned to the voice calling my name. It was Holmes, running after me, without a coat on, of course. I turned away but waited for him just the same. "Watson," he repeated, breathlessly. I loved the way his lips shaped my name. "My dear fellow, I must begin by apologising profusely. I did not realise I had offended you. When I said I had not kissed you, merely experimented, I did not stop to realise how it might have sounded to you.
"Yes, I was conducting an experiment... but it was to see how you would react to my physical advances. When I touched my lips to your own, I expected you to strike me or at least ask me to leave. When you did not I assumed you had simply written the action off as an accident or as a simple trick of your mind. Of course, I did consider a third, and unlikely, option but as you showed no inclination to encourage me, I dismissed it rather quickly. The thought that you felt the same as I did, was no more than a passing fancy. Therefore, when you asked I simply told you the truth without pause.
"Oh, I'm really not saying it right. You see, I am not very good at these emotional things, Watson and I guess what I am trying to say, is, I love you, my dear fellow. I know that you must not return my completely wrong and illogical feelings and I understand if you want me to leave Baker Street. In fact, I shall return home and begin to pack, although I'd best not call it home if I am to leave-"
The rest of his words were cut off as I pulled him close and kissed him. My stomach lurched in what would soon be a pleasantly familiar way. I relished the press of his body against mine and the sensation of his lips on mine. I pulled back to look at Holmes.
"Don't you dare leave me, again." I whispered to him.
He laughed; his breath forming a cloud as he shivered against me. "I won't. Now, let's get home because I believe my nose has gone, numb, Watson." We laughed together and made our way back to Baker Street, sharing the warmth of my coat.