HEY! Read the A.N. First.

Alright, for starters this is slash, though it's not remotely graphic. If youlike pizza but don't like olives, don't order pizza with olives. If you like fanfiction but don't like slash, don't read slash. This is your last warning! If you flame me without some constructive critism then I'll just laugh and play with the fire.

Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes and his original stories we created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and are currently owned by his estate. The Case of the Exhumed Client is actually from an episode of Sherlock Holmes that aired in the early 50s, with Sherlock Holmes played by Ronald Howard and Watson played by H. Marion Crawford. If you can get a hold of a copy I highly recomend it. By the way I didn't change the names or plots ofThe Exhumed Client one bit.I'm only using these characters and events for personal enjoyment and make no money off of using them. Please don't sue me I'm a student, one of many living off of Top Ramen.

Summary: While Holmes was believed to be dead Watson wrote a letter to him, never believing it would be found. Now that Holmes is back and he's looking through papers while Watson's away, he finds that letter.

The Letter

Holmes was looking for Watson's account of "The Case of the Exhumed Client" where they had captured Elizabeth Farnsworth who had murdered her elder brother Sir Charles by switching his candles with candles made of arsenic when her brother was dared to sleep alone in the mansion's supposedly "cursed" tower. Holmes himself found the method ingenious and cunning, especially after he nearly lost his own life by spending a night alone in the tower. He only lit one candle but had it not been for Watson's foresightedness to buy arsenic antidote Holmes would have died. A relatively simple case! Elizabeth had gone to the gallows just last week and Holmes felt the urge for some reason to read the case, but he was having severe difficulty finding it. If only Watson was there instead of at his practice.

In exasperation, Holmes dumped one of the drawers of paper on to the floor. As he surveyed the mess he'd caused by going through the files he noticed his name on an envelope. He picked it up, filled his pipe, and flopped into his favorite chair to survey the envelope. The envelope itself was of a common make that just about anyone could use, there was no stamp or address, there was only Holmes's name in moderately priced ink made in London likely at Ross Co. The writer was obviously Watson. Holmes knew his handwriting anywhere, but was curious to why Watson had written Holmes a letter instead of simply speaking with him and why not give it to Holmes.

Using his jack knife Holmes opened the envelope and began to look at the letter. The date explained why it was written, it was during a time when Watson believed him dead, and the contents explained why the letter was hidden.

May 16, 1892

My Dear Holmes,

I'm not entirely sure why I'm writing this, I suppose there are thoughts that I just need to express to you to ease my own pain. I have trouble believing you are really dead, you know? I almost expect you to walk in here right now and tell me how pointless my moping is. But I miss you, more than you could know. What did you see me as? A friend, an assistant, a nuisance, a comrade, a confident, or something else entirely? I bet you never saw me the way I saw you.

You probably never guessed that I've broken English Law. Well I did. Nothing so dramatic as murder or as greedy as robbery, I dared to love a man and to make love with a man. I feel no guilt in the matter, love is universal and romance is merely a form of expressing love and devotion, gender has very little to do with love. During the Battle of Muiwad, where I was wounded, my lover Anthony was killed. I vowed to never love again and then months later I met you.

I knew that I couldn't help but fall in love with you the moment I saw you. I never expected to fall so hard for you, like a moth to a flame. While you were a private man you weren't as cold hearted as many believed. You truly cared for those who suffered from injustice and for those who cared for you in your own unique way. You had such an amazing mind and heart, not to mention your well-built body.

I never took the chance to start a romantic relationship with you because I feared the loss of your friendship. I feared never seeing you again, of not being there when you needed me. It seems my fear of not being with you when you needed me happened anyways didn't it? I'll never forgive myself for not facing Moriarty with you. I would have gladly traded my life for your. You are important to many people including me and the world will never be the same without you.

As always your friend,

John H. Watson

For a moment all Holmes could do was stare at the letter he held in his shaking hands and let the tide of emotions wash over him. He didn't know which took more precedence: guilt for the unnecessary pain and guilt he'd caused Watson, anger at himself for not guessing Watson's feelings before now, confusion at why Watson had these feelings in the first place, or happiness in the knowledge that Watson cared about him.

Holmes placed the letter on his desk and began organizing the files he'd strewn everywhere as he contemplated Watson's letter. Why? Why did Watson love him of all people? Watson had heard his opinion on love many times over and knew all of Holmes worst vices. Did Watson assume that the love was not returned? Probably, according to the contents of the letter.

Was the love returned? Did he love Watson? Watson certainly was important, but just what was his place in Holmes's life? Watson was his biographer, the one who published and recorded his cases. He also was Holmes assistant in his cases, his companion, his confident, his best friend, and the one person he could always rely on and trust.

All right so he cared for Watson deeply and quite possibly loved him, but was there any romance? He imagined for a moment what he'd do if Watson told him to his face that he loved him. Probably faint. Watson believed his feeling unimportant though, so he would never admit to them.

He cared for Watson and Watson was the person closest to him including Mycroft. It seemed the best way to discover if he returned Watson's feelings was through the scientific method. A simple experiment or two would suffice; the stakes were too high in this experiment for failure.

Holmes finished cleaning up the room and hid the letter in his bedroom. He sat back down in his chair; puffing his pipe, and waiting for Watson to return so he could get to work.

A.N.- I don't have a continuation currently written, but if anyone wants me to write one let me know.