My recollections of my friend Sherlock Holmes are many. To some I may look back with joy, pride or awe, and to some with fear, rage and even pain, both emotionally and physically. Yet, recollection is all that is left of the great detective. To day, I am the last in a line of many people, who have come to mourn my friend. I am quite pleased with myself, for no one seems to have discovered my identity as yet, and I pray that none of the guests will. I notice that the light is already fading, due to the heavy rain. However, it was not only the awful weather that has caused me to take so long to decide whether I should go at all- it was supposed to be a private moment- just for me, to dwell on recent events, our life together, and all the other things, I have already thought of hundreds of times. Now, that I walk these grounds again, I have to fight, to hold back tears. I am aware, how unmanly my weakness and vulnerability may appear, but I swear, that I have never before felt anything, comparable, to what I felt for Sherlock Holmes. As I walk, melancholically, through the heavy downpour, I also walk down memory lane. It is not the first time I am here- at this small, Sussex cemetery, and the recollections that are tied to it, are as various as any I have of my friend. God rest his wonderful soul.

"Holmes!" I cried as he pressed me against the church wall, his face buried in my neck. He stopped for an instant to look questioning at me. "Wh-" a shiver ran down my spine. "What about your REPUTATION?" He cocked his head, and put on an irritated expression. "My reputation can look after itself." He had said it so often before, and to be honest, I had expected no other reaction. Still, I was not quite confident about the direction this case was taking. "Patience, Watson!" he cheered, returning to kiss my neck. I did not mind about leaving these things for indoors…but being seduced by Holmes, in the middle of the day, outside a church! That went way too far!
"Holmes! Is there no other way to…" he kissed me passionately on the lips. I was unsure whether it was real pleasure or the excitement of being able to do so on a case, that made him act this way, or if it was a simple masquerade, he put on to make the whole scheme look as convincing as possible.
"I love you John…" he moaned, against my- now bare-chest. I gave my best to act natural, in order not to spoil it, and clumsily commenced to open his vest, and remove his watch.
"Oh Holmes…!" I answered, and tried to sound as aroused as I could. The detective halted again, and tutted. "Oh John…how often have I told you not to call me that, when we're…together."
"I am sorry…"
"Your insecurity makes me want you even more! Dear God…" In the very instant, I wanted to kiss him afresh, a dark figure appeared behind him, and pressed a gun to his head.
"On 'oly grounds! Aren't your ashamed of nothin'?!" he shouted. As the ruffian stood in front of me, I became fully aware of my delicate situation. Holmes however, seemed rather imperturbable. "You're a bloody disgrace! I'm glad this ends 'ere! It's 'igh time to meet your maker, you queers!"
"I wouldn't be such a loudmouth if I were you!" another voice bellowed from behind the ruffian. I gave a loud sigh of relief, as I recognised Inspector Farrell in him. Beside him, were two of his men.
Luckily, they were quick and managed to arrest this maniac before he could escape. So we soon were fully dressed again, and making our way to the main road, where the Inspector would take us with him. "You know, Mr. Holmes…what you did there, looked very…authentic." The inspector laughed. "Almost as if you two were already used to it." I remember having frozen for a the blink of an eye, before I could react. " Inspector!" I chuckled nervously, but succeed in maintaining a reprimanding tone. "Don't be ridiculous."
And Holmes? Well, he did not react at all, apart from indulging in a private smile.