Author Notes: This story will be much longer than any of my other stories for the Sherlock fandom. As far as I can say, it will have around 8-10 chapters.^^ And don't worry if it takes me a little longer to update from time to time, most of this story is already written, I only need to find the time to edit it. :)

On a side note, I'm not an expert on British history and/or Victorian England, I did as much research as possible, but if you find any errors, feel free to point them out to me.^^

That said, enjoy the first chapter!

Motives

In the year 1895, a series of rather unspectacular cases led to the most surprising outcome. It's safe to say that not even my dearest friend, Sherlock Holmes - the most extraordinary man of his time and only consulting detective of the world - had been able to predict it. Holmes and I have solved many cases and unraveled a lot of mysteries in our lifetime and I shared most of them with my faithful readers. I feel sorry for them now- sitting in front of my diary and writing down this episode of my life - because they will never get to read any of it.

The cases I`m writing about are neither classified by the British Government nor were we asked by a client to keep the story a secret. It's for Holmes and my own safety that this story will never see the light of day, to allow my friend and I to spend our sunset years in peace.

I'm sure that Holmes will call me a sentimental fool when he gets to read this entry, but he is busy with his bees right now and so I'm free to put our story down on paper and relive the events that redirected the course of our lives.

Everything started with a particular boring case. My friend wouldn't have accepted it, if Lestrade hadn't called in a favor from Holmes and forced him to investigate it. A young married couple had been exposed to various degrees of harassment since their wedding day and the police hadn't been able to find the culprit.

It must have shamed the Londoner inspectors to a large degree that Holmes was able to hand the delinquent over to them in a matter of hours after reading the file for the first time. The case neither ended in a chase through London nor in a life-or-death situation, Holmes and I occasionally found ourselves in. The conclusion of the case was as boring as the whole investigation, which had merely consisted of a few hastily written telegrams and the brilliant combinations of my friend. The only remarkable occurrence took place, when the culprit was arrested, which led to interesting revelations later on, but it wouldn't do any good if I got ahead of myself.

Holmes and I watched the proceedings as the man, a Mister Kingston, was hauled away in a hackney and Lestrade shook hands with the victim of the harassment, Mister Smith, while his wife cried on his shoulder. My friend Holmes had turned away from that emotional scene, his eyes scanning the rows of similar looking houses and probably making deductions about their inhabitants. I knew that he had to itch to go back to Baker Street and finish the experiment, that he had abandoned in favor of helping Lestrade. At least the unsatisfying case meant that Holmes wouldn't fall back in one of his depressive moods like he often did, after enjoying the high of chasing after a brilliant criminal for days.

"So, Mister Kingston stalked the Smith's family, killed their dog, wrote warnings with blood on their walls and destroyed their garden, because he couldn't win the heart of Mrs. Smith?"

I was aware that I was stating the obvious and that Holmes had already explained these facts to the Inspectors, but I couldn't help myself. On the one hand, I wanted Holmes' attention, before he got so focused on his experiments again to even notice that I was there and on the other hand... something about that explanation felt off. I couldn't put my finger on it, but the behavior of Mr. and Mrs. Smith had appeared odd to me. She hadn't even looked at Mister Kingston once or shown any other indication that she knew him. If he had truly been a former suitor, I had expected at least some emotions from her, but the woman had only started crying after everything had been over. And Mister Smith... he hadn't reacted to Mister Kingston either. I had witnessed situations, when the husband had been furious with jealousy after encountering a former suitor of his wife, without any added harassment needed, but Smith had just ignored Kingston and the latter...

"It appears that this is the case, my dear Watson. A rather boring affair, which occurs hundreds of times a year in London and I feel almost sorry that it hasn't led to a nice murder. At least, that would have made the wasted hours worthwhile."

I didn't correct my friend, since I was used to his eccentric views by now and I also felt disappointed by the whole affair. It wasn't even interesting enough to write about, although I still kept wondering if I hadn't missed something. Holmes mostly got the motives of people - for committing crimes - right, but it wouldn't be the first time that he had overseen something.

I glanced at his sharp profile, the way his eyes narrowed at the young couple, before he gestured to Lestrade that we would be on our way home. I couldn't read anything from his expression, but I promised myself that I would farther inquire about Kingston and Smith, when we were home again. Maybe Holmes would reveal some interesting piece of knowledge, when we were surrounded by the familiar walls of Baker Street once more.

OOO

The flames in the fireplace drove away the chills in the flat. I hadn't noticed just how cold it had been outside, until I had shed my cloak and hat. Mid March wasn't the best time to stand around in a street of London, without getting warmed up by a little chase through the city.

It was only past four o`clock and we wouldn't have dinner for at least another couple of hours, so I felt content to retrieve the newspaper and continue my interrupted reading. I had only made it halfway through the local news, when Holmes emerged from his bedroom. He had taken off his waistcoat and was only in his shirt sleeves and trousers. I assumed that he would go back to his interrupted experiment and prepared myself for hours of silence, interrupted only by terrible smells. My friend didn't like to be disturbed, when he was working with his precious chemicals and I was of the opinion that he deserved some peace, after he had been forced to work on such a mundane case for hours.

Imagine my surprise, when instead of moving to his worktable, Holmes sat down in his favorite armchair and lit his pipe. From the scent of the smoke, I was able to tell that he had chosen his strongest tobacco and I frowned slightly at that finding. Holmes only found the need to smoke when he was particular bored or when he was turning a problem over in his head. The latter was mostly connected to a very tiring case and it was only then when he resorted to his strongest brand of tobacco.

I glanced up from my newspaper and looked at Holmes. My friend was frowning down at the flames in the fireplace, his sharp profile highlighted by the warm light as he lost himself in his musings. I thought about inquiring what was bothering him, but then thought better of it. Holmes would share his findings with me, when he saw it fit and pushing the issue had never resulted in success.

No more than five minutes could have passed - I had just finished another page of the newspaper - when the voice of my friend startled me. "You were right, Watson."

I must have looked puzzled, since he bestowed me with one of his knowing smiles and went on. "Your observations about Kingston and Smith, which led you to the conclusion that my explanation about Kingston's motives wasn't exactly true, were correct."

I folded the newspaper and put it aside. A conversation with Holmes was by far more interesting than anything the reporters could come up with. "Does that mean that Kingston wasn't the culprit?"

A laugh escaped my friend as he inhaled from his pipe and shook his head, his pale blue eyes sparkling with amusement. "My dear chap, here I thought you knew me well enough by now to have learned that I wouldn't have allowed the police to arrest an innocent man, only to be proven wrong."

His words were delivered without any real heat and I couldn't help the grin that spread over my face. "We both know that you would allow it to happen, if it served a specific purpose, but since I can't see one here, I will believe you that Kingston is in fact responsible for harassing the Smiths. Still, I wonder what other motive - if not unrequited love - could have brought up his behavior."

"Oh, but you see, Watson, unrequited love was the motive."

I shook my head, not because I disagreed with Holmes, but because I didn't understand what he was getting at. Holmes had just stated that Kingston was the culprit, but that he hadn't revealed the whole truth about his motives to the police, so where did that leave us?

"Let's start slow, Watson. I'm quite sure I know why you are convinced that something about this whole case is off, but be so good and elaborate."

Usually, I hated it when Holmes told me that he had already deduced my whole thought process - especially since he had yet to be wrong about it - but this time it was kind of fun. Probably because Holmes had already confirmed that my suspicions were right and I also seemed to be the only one, who had noticed that something was amiss. It filled me with no small amount of pride as I explained what I had gathered from the behavior of the people, which were involved in the case. "Mrs. Smith didn't react in any way to Kingston, although she should have shown some sort of recognition if he had courted her and Kingston didn't even look at her once. I would have thought that he would declare his undying love to her or swear that he was going to kill her husband after he made her marriage a living hell."

"Oh, very good, Watson. I see, you have finally grasped the first observation skills, after more than a decade of my acquaintance, but that at least, is more than most Yarders can pride themselves on." I brightened at the honest compliment. It wasn't often that Holmes praised anyone and that made it all the more special for me.

"Now, my dear friend," Holmes packed his second pipe as he continued our conversation. "What conclusions do you draw from your observations?"

I furrowed my brow. I hadn't given that question much thought, only noted the odd behavior of certain people, but trusting my friend to enlighten me about it. Certainly, Holmes would be disappointed if I admitted this failure to him, so I forced myself to come up with some fairly logical explanation. "She didn't want to give Kingston the impression that she might still be interested in him and he didn't want to get in an even worse situation by drawing attention to himself in front of the police."

Holmes shook his head and sighed, but he still looked amused by my attempt at drawing conclusions. "I see that you haven't given the matter much thought, my friend, but I'll give you another chance to prove yourself. How did Mister Smith appear to you?"

I wrinkled my brow and tried to recall the unremarkable, young man, that I had only met a couple of hours ago. I remembered that I had thought that his hair was already too thin for a man, in his early thirties, and that it might have resulted from the stress he had been exposed to for over a year. His much too long nose and his nervous looking eyes had also gotten stuck in my mind, but I couldn't recall much else about him.

I retrieved a cigarette from my leather box - a gift from Holmes after I shot an especially ruthless murderer - and played for time as I lit it and inhaled deeply. When I didn't come up with any satisfying explanation, I just shook my head at Holmes. I had expected him to be disappointed in me, like he often was, when I couldn't follow his train of thoughts, but he only nodded like I had just proven some theory of his.

"You don`t remember much about Smith, because he behaved absolutely unimpressive and he did it on purpose. He didn't want any of us to focus on him and he was successful in that - mostly. Now," Holmes leaned back in his armchairs, sat his pipe down and fixed me with his sharp eyes. "What is the only logical explanation for the behavior of all three people?"

I shook my head again and lit another cigarette. It might have been possible for me to come up with some sort of explanation, but I felt that my friend itched to reveal his findings to me and I also rather enjoyed listening to Holmes' brilliant conclusions. So, I smoked and waited, until my friend decided that he had tested my patience long enough. "Mrs. Smith didn't react to Kingston in any way, because she didn't know him." I must have gasped, since Holmes grinned conspiratorially at me and continued. "Kingston and Mrs. Smith never met, today was the first time that they saw each other for more than a few minutes."

"How...," I started and Holmes gestured to the telegrams on the table. "Former friends of Mrs. Smith affirmed that they have never heard of Kingston before and that he certainly wasn't one of her suitors. He also wasn't invited to the wedding, so he didn't have any business with her."

I tried to wrap my head around these facts, but the more Holmes revealed the less sense the case made to me. "So why did he target the Smiths then, if he didn't even know them?"

"Oh, my dear Watson, you really should pay more attention to what I say and to what I don't say. Kingston might not have known Mrs. Smith, but he has known Smith since his first year of university. They took the same courses and even shared a flat in their senior year. There were rumors that they planned to travel to Greek together and make a living in Paris in the upcoming years."

Holmes patiently met my gaze, as if giving me one last chance to conclude the raw facts on my own. After mussing everything over, my friend, had just thrown at me, I found that it wasn't nearly as impossible as I had formerly thought. "Kingston didn't want to punish Mrs. Smith for the marriage, but he wanted to punish Smith for marrying her in the first place." I shook my head in awe as all the pieces fell into place. "Kingston and Smith were a special kind of friends, when they attended university and Kingston never got over the fact that Smith turned his back on him. Unrequited love, indeed." Holmes nodded in confirmation a slight smile playing around the corners of his lips.

I was amazed that this possibility hadn't crossed my mind sooner. In retrospect it was the only logical explanation, but I was aware that I wouldn't have unveiled the secret, if it hadn't been for the prompting of my friend. It wasn't that I had never heard of men who preferred the company of other men - I had served in the army after all - I had just never assumed that a bond between male lovers could lead to such jealousy. In my mind, the more passionate feelings like love and jealousy were reserved for relationships between a man and a woman. I blamed the army for this perception as well, since the soldiers had only turned to each other, when the primal needs of their bodies couldn't be ignored any longer.

"Remarkable." Holmes' voice brought me back to our conversation as I felt his sharp eyes watching me with growing interest.

"What is, Holmes?"

"You, my dear Watson, I would have thought that a gentleman like you would demand me to tell the police about my findings and condemn these two men to their punishments, although," he added with a small smile. "I hoped that you would prove me wrong for once."

"I don't see why I should demand such a thing, although I'm interested why you didn't tell the police about Kingston's true motives."

The blue eyes of my friend remained fixed on me for some time, searching my face for clues - God only knew which - like I had often seen him doing with culprits and witnesses alike. I couldn't fathom why he didn't answer me straight away, not until he offered me his explanation. "It wouldn't have made a difference, from my point of view, Watson. Kingston is guilty of harassing a family and he will be punished for it. If I had revealed his former relationship with Smith, he would have been more seriously punished, although he had still committed the same crime. Farther, Smith would also have been faced with an investigation and if word of it got around, he wouldn't have been able to gain footing in London again. All because of something the British Law considers a crime, although it doesn't hurt anyone."

After his little speech, my friend turned to watching the flames, seeming absolutely at ease as he packed his third pipe, but I wasn't fooled by his nonchalant posture. I knew him well enough, after years of working and living with him, to be able to tell from the tense set of his shoulders and the way the muscles of his arm flexed almost nervously that Holmes was on high alert. It was understandable, since men had been arrested for less than expressing their solidarity with those, that were considered sodomites by most of the British population. Even Lestrade would have been forced to investigate, had I felt the inclination to tell the Inspector about our conversation. That thought never crossed my mind though. I wouldn't have betrayed Holmes' trust in me, even if I hadn't agree with him, but since I didn't find any fault with his little speech, there was no need to entertain treacherous thoughts at all. After all, if two consenting men were drawn to each other, the only people that suffered from it would be the maidens that were smitten with them and they would easily find someone else to marry. I was mostly content with the law, but I couldn't find it in myself to agree with it on this point.

"I agree with you," was all I offered my friend.

I watched in amazement as the strained lines disappeared from Holmes' face and his whole body relaxed. "That's good Watson, very good."

We passed the remainder of the evening with smoking and dinner, Holmes going back to his experiment, while I refreshed my medical knowledge with the newest scientific articles. I thought the case of the Lovesick Tyrant - as I kept calling it in my head - was over and that we wouldn't discuss the matter, that was brought up in its wake again... I had never been so wrong in my entirely life.