Chapter 1

Sherlock Holmes never claimed to retain much knowledge about the romanticized notions of the heart.

It was quite understandable then, why he couldn't see what was ailing Watson. Because undoubtly Watson was becoming depressed and he had a theory it involved Mary, but that was the question wasn't it? Did it indeed have something to do with Mary? Thinking about Watsons impending marriage with the lovely Mary Morstan set the most unpleasent feeling tumbling through out his being. Perhaps he was coming down down with the flu? It would certainly explain the stomach aches, or a bit of heart burn? That could contribute to the ache in his chest. Holmes frowned, Mary was like a plague, just thinking about her made him violently ill.

Holmes turned away from the window, Watson and Mary had long since disappeared.

"Gladstone, we must think of something to pull our old boy from the pit he has fallen into." He looked excidedly down at the bulldog and frowned. Gladstone, named after the many experiments Holmes put him too, seemed to be under the influence once again. What had he tested Gladstone with this time? He couldn't quite recall. "Well your not going to be much help."

Holmes would have Watson ready and in prime condition come his wedding day. Just the mere thought of the wedding had Holmes wanting to regurgitate his lunch. Swallowing thickly and shrugging off his impending need to meet his lunch for a second time today, picked up his violin and began to pace the length of his room. Ideally plucking at the strings, his thoughts swirled, formulating a plan to pull Watson from his self-induced funk. He eyed the pile of envelopes resting on the corner of his desk.

Watson craved mystery and adventure, just as much as he. But there was seldom any case that held his attention. Finding someones lost jewlery wasn't exactly stimulating to someone of his intellect. Especially if the answer was so glaringly obvious; it was always the husband with a gambling problem! Watson had a gambling problem. He wasn't the ideal husband, losing more money than he earned in one case, and when Watson did win it was because Holmes was being betted on. It was just plain observation that Watson and Marie were like Oil and Water, they just didn't mix! What did Mary see in Watson, more importantly, what did Watson see in Mary? Holmes frowned, then scowled. Thinking such terrible thoughts about his best friend. Even if every thought ended in there being something wrong with the pair as a whole. Alone Watson was great, Mary was great as well, it was together that they were terrible. He needed to come to grips with the fact that Watson loved Mary, was in love with her. He should at least learn to tolerate her, she was going to be around for a long time.

Why was it that he thought Watson was abandoning him by marrying Mary? It wasn't like they couldn't still do cases with eachother and he could always visit, even if, in Holmes mind Watson shouldn't have to visit, he belonged at 221B Baker street with him.

What if Mary locked Watson away, demanding he give up his practice and devote all of himself to Mary, give her children, money, possibly give up adventures and evidently Holmes himself. The violin strings snapped from the pressure of him pulling at them, the mere thought that Holmes would be forgotten was just unthinkable. There was no way Watson could forget him, right? What if Mary was secretly in a Satanic cult and would sacrifice Watson to obtain power! It happened with Lord Blackwood, what made Mary any different? She was a woman and woman were discieving creatures.

"Dear lord, your blowing this way out of context." He whispered. "She isn't involved in witchcraft." She wasn't that kind of woman, but Holmes had his doubts more often than not.

"You know, the first sign of insantiy is talking to yourself." Holmes twirled around and grinned.

"Constible, what do we owe this lovely visit." he said completely bypassing the mans remark. Holmes had always had this lingering thought that he might be a tiny bit - and by tiny bit he means minscule - looney. Nothing to serious though. He glanced down at the letter in the constibles hands.

"There's been a murder..." Holmes grinned. Even better. And an idea formed, the perfect idea to lure Watson into a false sense of security so he'd spill the beans (so to say.)

TBC...............

a/n: sorry its so short, i promise it will be longer next time.

Amadan