He had finally made it. Finally he had managed to push our friendship so hard. He had left me. Damn Mary. She could burn in hell.

I gave myself a face palm, telling myself that it was wrong to think that way. He was my friend, and I had to be happy for him. He was getting married soon, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I sat up on the messy floor. Felt heart-broken. Actually, what was the purpose? I knew Watson could not love me. It was just... wrong.

If I just had told him what I felt...

It had been a week ago. I had not left my room, had not got a new case. And what if I actually had a case? Would I be able to solve it when Watson was not around? I didn't think so. I felt a part of me missing.

Even Gladstone was not around anymore, because Watson had taken that bloody dog with him.

Now there was only me, and of cause Mrs. Hudson. Every time she entered my room I did not really notice her and just continued dealing with my own frustrated thoughts of my dear partner and friend. Well, not partner anymore!

I felt my eyes getting wet with tears for the third time within a week. Pathetic! I sniffled in attempt to stop myself for crying.

I really loved him. I really did! It is just hard when you know you don't have a chance.

I got up from the floor, felt how drugged I actually was. I leaned against the wall with one hand to pull myself together. God, I needed to get out of there. Just... needed to get out.

I ran down the stairs and I made it to the front door, when Mrs. Hudson appeared behind me.

"Where are you going, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, confused.

"Out," I just said and pulled the door open.

It was not to any of my surprise that it started raining on my way, and of cause I had not put on my coat. I just crossed my arms to keep myself warm.

I didn't know where to go so I just kept walking, at the end not sure where I was. The sky was black with late hours. I thought of Watson. All I thought about was Watson. I felt my face getting hot with sadness, the rest of my body cold and my shoulders very wet.

I stopped on the middle of a bridge. Just stood there and realised that I was now soaked to the bone by rain. I shivered and a sob cracked through my lips as I got near the edge of the bridge. When I took a look down the dark of death in the river beneath it, I felt the darkness crush down on me like a huge stone. I could not believe this was really happening. I felt like just jumping over the fence and say goodbye to the whole world. The Great Sherlock Holmes finally taking his leave.

I could not bear the feeling of being alone. Being alone in my own grief and tears. Nobody to hold me or even listen to me.

I could not bear the feeling of not having my great doctor behind me, to catch me when I fall.

And then I could not bear the thought of how Watson would react to my death.

Suddenly I felt ashamed and dirty. I squeezed the fence even harder than before. How could I do this? It didn't felt right at all! Watson would think he caused all this. What was I thinking?

I felt my hot tears mixing with cold rain running down my face. I was freezing, my clothes clinging to my body like an extra coat of skin. Then I fell to my knees. "Watson," I whispered behind sobs and felt an extremely miserable me breaking through. Never had I felt so pathetic, sitting there on my knees in pouring rain, crying out in mental pain.

I slung myself around so I was sitting with my back against the fence, my knees clinging to my chest, face buried in hair in attempt to hide my misery. I felt so cold now that my teeth started to clatter.

I didn't felt like turning back home. I was lost. Just completely lost!

I buried my head in my arms and cried silently.

Suddenly a hand touched my shoulder, and what a face that waited for me to look up...

I looked up to those light eyes of Watson's.

"Holmes?" he asked, concerned. "What are you doing here?"

I brushed my eyes with one hand and didn't exactly know what to say. He knelt in front of me. He had an umbrella so now I was under it, feeling strange without the rain pouring down on me, now I was getting so used to it.

"Holmes, what is it?" he asked me, even more concerned this time.

I started coughing and realised I didn't felt very well.

"Please take me home, Watson," I said.

"What-"

"Just take me home. Please."

He stood up and held out a hand. I took it and was pulled to my feet. I felt slightly dizzy and knew I had got the fever. Perhaps it wasn't that healthy to stay in the rain.

He managed to get off his dry coat and wrap it around me, even though I was against it.

I felt warm inside when he clasped an arm around me. Even though I knew it was only to keep me warm.

We reached Baker Street 221B. Watson pushed the door open and let me in while he handled the umbrella. I was shaking roughly, standing there, just waiting for Watson to lead me up the stairs.

Mrs. Hudson was there suddenly. She said something, but I didn't really listen to her, and then she was cut off by Watson, who grabbed my arm and dragged me the way to my room.

Watson had slid off my soaked clothes and wrapped me in blankets. He had used a towel to dry my hair just a little. Now I was lying on my bed and slowly felt my body heating.

There was not much light in the room, and I felt very tired. Extremely exhausted, practically. I closed my eyes but opened them again when I felt Watson's cool hand on my forehead.

"I think you have got a slight fever," he established.

He sat down beside the bed not looking at me. He looked completely confused. I did my best to just keep my mouth shut. Unfortunately he had to keep asking me.

"What were you doing out there?" He shot me a look and I turned my gaze away from him. I simply couldn't face him like this.

Instead I followed my usual skills to jerk him around.

"I could ask you the same thing, Doctor."

He hesitated a moment, his mouth open in surprise.

"I had just checked on a patient," he said. "It was kind of an emergency."

I went into a keen sneezing fit and felt like my head was going to explode. Watson handed me a napkin when it was over. I wiped my face and sniffled a last time before turning to my dear friend.

"John," I said and he looked a bit surprised – probably because the use of his Christian name – "I miss having you around."

He got up from the chair and turned his back to me, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Holmes, soon I will be a married man. I cannot look out for you the rest of my life. I have to move on!" Now he turned to face me. I assume he saw tears filling my eyes.

"Please, don't be such a baby," he snapped.

I felt my heart sink when I saw his glance. It reminded me of that time we had been together in the arrest and he yelled at me: "You're not human!"

My face twisted in attempt to hold back a sob. Again I could not face him.

He was by my side now and put a hand on my arm.

"Holmes? What's bothering you?"

I knew I couldn't hold back much longer now. I faced him.

"I- I love you, John, okay? I love you!"

I'm not sure whether he was chocked – his face did not change at all.

"You mean- You-"

"Yes... I'm in love with you, John."

Now his face changed but I could not exactly describe it. His jaw dropped and that just made me feel even more stupid.

He got up and turned his back to me again.

Then there was a long moment of silence, until I broke the ice.

"I know you probably can't love me," I said, "but I just needed you to know how I feel about you."

He did not move and I was getting a little concerned. Had I scared him that much?

Then he turned around. He did not look scared at all! He actually looked kind of relieved as he stood there, looking at me with those calm, blue eyes of his.

"I-I-", he stammered and then took a deep breath, "I feel the same about you."

Now I was completely lost. Had he left me even though he loved me? That could not be true. I had seen the way he had been looking at Mary. They were a couple, for Christ!

I could not do anything else than stare at him. I felt scared and sat up, when he moved to the bed.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and took my hand in his own.

"I guess I have just been too afraid to say it and too afraid to accept my own feelings," he said without looking at me. I studied him when he continued: "You had been there for me for so long, Holmes, and when I moved in with Mary, I realised something was completely wrong. I guess, when I met her I felt relieved to know that I could love someone else beside you. And yes, I've felt it for a while. Also I knew it would be dangerous for both of us. To be lovers. Meanwhile I didn't felt the same for Mary as for you."'

Then he looked at me, and we sat like that for a moment.

Suddenly I burst out in tears. Not because of sadness but because overwhelming happiness. It was too good to be true. I leaned my head against his chest and he held me in his arms.

We sat like that and cried both of us for God knows how long.

"I love you, Sherlock," my dear doctor said between loud sobs. I laughed and cried at the same time. An odd feeling of sudden happiness twisted in my stomach. My tears soaked the chest of his shirt.

I felt his hands on my cheeks and my head was lifted to his eye-sight. Then he kissed me. One of those hard, warm kisses you hope that are never going to end.

Now I knew he was mine.