'You look completely dashing Sir…'

Watson gazed up at the cracked mirror that was hung proudly on the wall in front of him, staring towards the reflection of the chambermaid who had just spoken. She stood there, her honey blonde hair tight into a bun, as her hands clasped hold of a silver tray complete with a pot of tea, cups and an assortment of cakes. Watson turned around to face her.

'Why thank you…and what's this?' He smiled brightly as his ocean blue eyes set upon the white pot of tea. 'Tea to wet my appetite for the big ceremony no doubt…'

'Of course! You must be absolutely parched after all the rush to get ready this morning.'

Watson dug into the pocket of his newly cleaned suit jacket, bringing out a pocket watch: '…you know…I didn't realise I was this early…' As Watson gazed at the watch, he noticed that he was indeed an hour early for his big day.

As the chambermaid set the tray down on the table, and began to walk back out of the room, she giggled shyly: 'Well Sir, it is better to be early than late, no?'

'Quite right…thank you for the tea.'

Watson returned back to the mirror, staring at his reflection as he ran his hands over his smoothened hair, proud of what he saw, before placing them in his pocket as he went to pour himself a cup of tea.

With a steaming hot cup in hand, Watson began to sit in one of the cushioned chairs that resided in the room, sipping at the hot liquid as he began to think about Mary, and the oncoming event of the day.

Watson sighed – the oncoming nervousness sweeping throughout his veins as the prospect of becoming a husband, or the mere fact that a lady, his Mary, was about to become his bride. Had he even told her that he loved her, if he loved her?

Of course I did…what a ridiculous notion to think about…

A sudden knocking on the door caused Watson to spring up, nearly knocking over the tea, before giggling to himself for being so jumpy.

'Come in, the door is open.' Watson said, placing the cup down and smoothing out the creases of his suit with his hands. Opening the door, a male who was rugged in appearance, with cobalt blue eyes and a tousled head of hair proceeded to walk in, his attire of the norm of just a waistcoat, blouse and trousers.

'Holmes! What a pleasure it is to see you…'

Walking towards him, Watson held out his hand in greeting, which Holmes quickly accepted.

'So…' Watson said, offering Holmes a cup of tea. 'What brings you here old chap…'

Holmes held out his hand in decline of Watson's offer. 'Watson, I need to speak with you urgently.'

'Another case Holmes...' Watson exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes. 'Couldn't you wait until after I'm married?'

'No Watson, not another case…I assure you I would not disturb this ceremony if it was…it's about me…'

Watson smiled, his tone riddled with sarcasm: 'When is it ever about you, Holmes?'

'Watson I am serious, please if you would just sit down for a brief moment…'

Gazing towards Holmes, Watson could see the incredible sense of necessity and demand that fired in Holmes's eyes, immediately going back over to the chair and sitting down. As he crossed one leg over the other, he interlocked his hands, a gesture for Holmes to speak.

'Thank you Watson…' Walking over to a dresser that resided in the room, Holmes began to lean on it with his hands, his back now turned away from Watson. His head began to droop down as his mouth refused to open, unclear of what he should say in the present moment.

'Holmes…what is it? Are you in trouble with the authorities? If so I can arrange hel…'

'No trouble on that front Watson I can promise you…the only trouble I seem to be having is with myself…'

Watson's eyebrows knitted in confusion as he saw Holmes's breath become ragged in anxiety: 'Holmes…just speak, please…'

Holmes sighed, turning around to face Watson: 'If you wish Watson…but I must ask that you do not say anything until I am finished…'

'Okay understood' Watson began to lean deeper into his chair as he stared intently at Watson.

'You may think of us as brothers, as we have been together for many years now, battling foes and completing jobs that just could not be done without the both of us. But for many years Watson, it has been different for me. The feeling I have is not of friendship or comradeship…it is of loyalty, protection, and…love…'

Watson opened his mouth eager to response, but thought better against it, allowing Holmes to continue.

'Love, you hear me say…' Holmes said, his voice invaded by nerves. 'But surely brothers love each other until death…but no Watson, this is different. This is a love that is corrupted with lust, and craving and passion every time I look at you Watson…'

Holmes looked towards Watson, seeing how his body became stiffened against the chair, his face turned away looking towards the door.

'Why are you saying this?' Watson whispered, his eyes torn away from Holmes in disbelief. 'Why…do this now?'

'I don't know.'

Exploding out of the chair, Watson rushed towards Holmes, pushing him against the wall: 'Why do this NOW HOLMES?! WHY?' Watson's face became etched in anger as he stared at Holmes, who had closed his eyes, wishing he had never come here.

'I'm sorry Watson; just forget everything I said…'

'FORGET?' Watson grabbed hold of Holmes's waistcoat, using it to push Holmes back into the wall. 'How in God's name can I forget?' Watson began to whimper, his teeth gritting in rage as he continually shook Holmes in his grasp, each time the action getting slower and slower as all life seemed to drain away from him. Watson pushed himself away from Holmes, his legs staggering to the other side of the room, as he raised an arm leaning it against the wall, allowing himself to weep into his sleeve. Holmes walked over to Watson, grabbing his now moist sleeve, as fresh tears began to fall down from his face. Watson lowered his head solemnly as Holmes gazed up at him, the grip on his sleeve getting tighter and tighter. The sounds of the guests – both from family and friends of Watson and Mary – were now beginning to chatter away merrily in the main hall of the church, unaware of the scene unfolding between the two men behind the dressing room door.

'Watson, please…' Holmes tried to speak, his words getting caught up in his gasping cries of upset. 'I just want you to be happy… I never meant for you to get distressed over my foolish emotions…'

'Then let me go Holmes!' Watson attempted to maintain a look of anger towards Holmes, even though he was unsuccessful; instead his face looking guilty and hurt towards the vulnerable male that stood in front of him. Watson had tried so hard to fight these feelings…why did Holmes have to declare his honest and worthy feelings now?!

Holmes removed his grip from Watson's sleeve, however still lingered next to him, feeling the scorching heat radiating from Watson's body.

'Would you like me to leave Watson?'

'No…'

Holmes seemed bewildered as Watson looked towards him and down towards his lips: 'I don't understand Watson…'

Sighing under his breath, Watson closed his eyes as if he could erase the feelings from his heart on command, but instead he thought at Holmes…and how he had felt about him all of these years.

'Holmes…I wish I could understand how I feel…I wish I could…'

'Watson?'

'I'd give anything to take you in my arms and hold you forever…to run my hands through your silken hair…' Watson ran a thumb over Holmes's moist lips which began to tremble. '…to kiss your soft lips, and say you were mine…'

'What is stopping you?'

Watson could only reply in a whisper: 'Only everything…' Taking Holmes's head in his heads, Watson began to kiss Holmes, both of their lips connecting together, sending passionate sensations throughout both of their bodies. Holmes responded in eager as he held onto Watson's shoulders, allowing his tongue to enter Watson's mouth, their salvia's mixing together like a sweet exotic potion. As both of their tongue's fought willingly against each other, Watson suddenly pulled away: 'I'm sorry…I can't do this…'

Running the back of his hand over his mouth, Watson moved towards the door, opening it before looking towards Holmes: 'I want you to go.'

'Go?'

'Holmes, just go please…that was a mistake…I'm sorry…' Watson could not even look at Holmes as he opened the door even wider, an indication for Holmes to get out.

'Watson…'

'GO HOLMES!'

Holmes did not even get the chance to response as suddenly Watson's hand was on his back, pushing him out of the door. As he turned around to face Watson, he was met by a slamming of the door, small wood fibres falling around Holmes like dust.

'Please Watson…' Holmes pressed a hand up against the door, hearing Watson lock it from inside. 'Just tell me how you feel…'

'I can't Holmes…now please just go…' From inside, Watson looked at his pocket watch seeing that he only had ten minutes to get himself prepared for his future wife. Holmes could only walk away, confused and alone, with the taste of Watson still lingering on his lips as he exited the building, leaning against the brick exterior of the church, small droplets of tears edging around his eyes.

Watson rushed himself over to the mirror, shaking his head in anger, as he tried to wipe any tears that had escaped, making his face now wet and blemished. His hands frantically tried to smooth down his hair to make himself look presentable, as his clothes were also now creased and untidy. Rage seemed to build up inside him as suddenly he threw the silver tray containing the teapot, cups and sweet food across the room - tea and sugar making its mark on the walls. Breathing in and out heavily, Watson tried to regain some form of composure as he opened the door, slightly surprised to see Holmes had gone, as Watson started to make his way towards the main room in the church, ready to meet and greet his family and friends. The hall was completely different in atmosphere as to the dressing room – flowers of all colours and sizes lined the pews of the church as each and every person was dressed up to the nines in glamorous attire. Smiles and laughter were suddenly directed at Watson as people began to hold out hands, eager to greet the about to be husband. Even Holmes's brother was there, as a bitter reminder as to what Watson was doing, ready to meet with him. Watson proceeded to walk up to the front of the altar, in which the priest was ever prepared to give his welcome and blessings. As he tried to stand proud, his chest puffed out and his head brought back, Watson's expression turned into a forced smile, as the church organ began to play, and everybody turned towards the back of the church, awaiting the arrival of Mary. Only under a minute had passed before a gleaming vision of white began to emerge from the back of the church - in her lacy silk dress, Mary slowly walked down the aisle, her father linked arm in arm by her side. Seeing Watson, she smiled wide, her face a picture of happiness and elation…and Watson tried to copy this emotion on his face to some success, fortunately, no one would know how he truly felt inside. Approaching Watson, Mary unlinked her arm with his fathers, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek, before standing side by side with Watson, her heart jittering with cheerfulness inside.

As the priest said his words, and swore from the Bible, Watson and Mary shared their vows of love, honour and protection, to death do they part. Watson did not even flinch as he spoke of his love for Mary, as a voice in his consciousness told him it was the honest and right thing to do…

Holmes gazed at Watson, his eyes now red and his skin blotchy, through an open window as Watson finally placed an everlasting band on Mary's finger. He didn't even hear the fateful words, instead he looked upon Watson's lips, the lips that he had kissed only moments ago, and knowing that the one he loved had said 'I do'. There was nothing he could do now, except listen the endless cheers from family and friends; the never-ending celebrations as Mary and Watson began to walk down the aisle hand in hand, confetti and rice spraying around them like a beautiful shower. Holmes's back now sank down against the exterior of the church wall, the November air whipping around him like Death as he buried his head deep into his hands and sobbed, his knees drawn up towards his chest and his heart ripped into thousand china pieces. As Watson exited the church door, he could hear Holmes's agony carried by the wind, and all he could do was smile and hold Mary's hand in love and affection...because that was the correct way...that HAD to be the way...despite whatever Watson felt inside.

Climbing into the carriage – a black horse-drawn cart that was simply fit for a King, Mary and Watson prepared for their 'blissful' honeymoon out in the country…a place to be alone and tranquil. With a snap of the horsemen's whip, the carriage was in motion, with family and friends cheering and screaming behind them in excitement, throwing flowers at the cart in glee.

Watson stared out of the carriage window, seeing Holmes vulnerable stature wrapped up tight against the church wall. Holmes's head rose up slowly, his eyes still streaming with clear tears, locking instantly onto Watson's gaze. Both of them stared at each other for some time, and that was all that was needed. Holmes knew then how Watson felt…from the way his eyebrows were knitted down in pain and agony…the way his mouth drooped down in a want and desire that could never be…It was love…but it was a love that could never be acted upon…could never be exposed…never be discussed. There would be no Holmes and Watson…no Mr and Mrs John and Sherlock…nothing.

Because that had to be for the best…despite whatever they both felt inside…