'Holmes' Sweet Home'

Hey everyone! This is my first fanfic so I would appreciate all the constructive criticism I could get and encouragement in the form of a review would be nice as well. But, anyway, this first chapter is disgracefully small and I am truly sorry but I can promise that all the others will be a lot longer, this ones just like a little introduction thingy. Anyhoo, I better stop this A/N or I'll go on all night. On with the show!

Watson never meant to find them. It was an accident, a mistake but it had ruined everything. He wasn't, by nature, a curious being, but it was incredibly easy to lose ones items in baker street. On this particular occasion, he had lost a certain cravat: a gift from a grateful patient, and he had promised to wear it. It could have been anywhere: his belongings always ended up in the strangest of places and for all he knew it could have been their. He did find something, just not what he was looking for. He could have- no he should have- just shut the box and walked away to carry on looking, but it did look interesting and he was looking for new material to write about. He sat on the floor his legs crossed as he examined the box. It was old, that was plain, but well cared for as if it was of great importance. Once he realised this, he knew it must be very personal, something that he wasn't ready to share yet, maybe never. Watson respected his friends privacy and wasn't about to pry into something not intended for his eyes. He arranged the items neatly inside the box: a habit he had picked up from his times in Afghanistan, when something caught his eye. It was but a couple of words but they told Watson what the contents of the box was focused on. He didn't know what to do know. He would never betray Holmes but he wasn't exactly sure if this counted as betrayal. Here was the answer to the one question Holmes' would never answer no matter how many times Watson asked. Instead of his long detailed explanations he was prone to give, he would answer in brief with a tone of finality only to clear in his voice. Watson mentally argued with himself (don't we all) but he finally made his decision. No matter how much he may thirst for this knowledge, his friendship would come first: always. Should he mention it to Holmes? 'no!' he told himself firmly. No need to do that to him but would he notice. For the second time, Watson examined the box. Their was no dust on the box and there hadn't been when he found it. His friend must look through it often. He would notice, he notices everything. His brain catalogues everything down no doubt including the order and position of the items in the box. Watson couldn't duplicate that, he couldn't even remember it and anyway it would have to be exactly right. Watson sighed. It was inevitable but he still wished there was another way. He stood up, grabbed the box and headed towards the bedroom door. He took a deep breath before opening it.

What's in the box? How is Holmes' going to react? Find out next time. It wont be long because tomorrow, well technically today since its past 12, is my last day of the school before I break up for seven weeks. Yay! I will finally have time to do stuff including carrying on writing this and other stuff.