Author's Note: Thank you for all the reviews. NeverFree, thank you for your constructive criticisms, I welcome them. As to why they are not yet having an affair, in the Victorian era, homosexuality was a capital offence. And Watson knows this. But never fear, NeverFree, for it will become more overt. ;) Anyway, I do strive for historical accuracy, feel free to point out anachronisms and other errors.

~**~**~

Chapter Two

He felt exhausted. His lips were chapped from dehydration; he opened his mouth in an attempt to capture droplets of rain as it drizzled. His vision was tinted with a thin film of red, there was blood in his eye from where a member of the crowd punched him and called him a "sodomite".

There was a ring of curious spectators, muttering and chattering away as they would watch a zoo exhibition. A half-empty bottle sailed through the air in an arc, spilling its contents all over the wooden scaffold. He dodged just in time to avoid it smashing into smithereens upon colliding with his skull. There were chains around his wrists like any other criminal he had apprehended, the irony.

He could see Mary in the crowd looking heavily distraught. Her face streaked with tears and blonde hair in disarray. It broke his heart. He wanted to tuck the flyaway strands of hair behind her ear and kiss the tears away. To remind her that he loved her, despite everything he had done or thought of doing. Not that it would be of any use at this point of time.

Holmes was in the midst of the crowd, his countenance as cold and detached as ever. Watson felt as if his heart had been wrenched from his chest cavity by those clinical, long-fingered hands and trampled beneath leather boots. He was enveloped in darkness as his head was covered unceremoniously with an opaque sack, the noose tightened around his neck.

John Watson woke up choking and spluttering, clawing madly at the collar of his sweat-soaked nightshirt. His heart was thumping at a furious rate which was surely detrimental to his health. He gets up, shuffles to the table and poured himself a small cup of left over Ceylon tea, it was cold and faintly bitter, having lost its aroma.

He sat down and drank to what was no doubt a sleepless night.

~**~**~

He got out of bed hastily after a night's worth of tossing and turning.

"John, darling, you look terrible," Mary fussed, beautiful in her dress embroidered with ivory lace, "have you been on one of your adventures again?"

"Just nerves." He kissed the back of her gloved hand and smiled reassuringly, "Everything's according to plan?"

"Do not attempt to change the topic. Have you been using the razor I gave you?" Mary narrowed her eyes, Watson rubbed his chin absently, it felt like sandpaper. "Are you growing a beard?"

"You don't suppose it makes me look distinguished and debonair?" He winked at her.

"Haggard would be a more appropriate word," she teased, "now go shave or I shall not kiss you during the ceremony."

Mary went back to moving tables and chairs into the garden, which was decorated with fragrant orange blossoms for the occasion.

Having shaved and worn the frock coat which was stiff from starch, Watson watched the primly dressed ladies and gentlemen walking hand in hand into their garden, now used for reception. They were mostly Mary's friends. He looked around and told himself that it was perfectly alright if Holmes had not been able to make it.

Watson stopped himself from making a mental list of excuses for his friend. He looked at the ring which Holmes had given to him in an act of extravagence, it was beautiful, each facet perfectly cut and polished.

"Waiting for me?" He looked up to see Holmes, impeccably dressed and looking rather out of his element among the crowd.

"What happened to you?" he asked, there was an ill-concealed gash across Holmes cheek which was sluggishly leaking blood onto his pristine white collar.

"Boxing," he wiped it away with a hankerchief already splotched with shades of red and brown, "it felt good to be pounded into the ground occasionally, now that I am deprived of interesting new cases."

"Pity, all that wasted energy."

"No matter, as soon as one comes along, I shall inform you immediately." Holmes remarked lightly.

"The thing is, Mary and I plan to open a consultation centre and it will be rather busy in the first few--" Watson know that she had arranged it all out and was very invested in it. She had even planned the university funds of their future son. "And... well, she thinks it is far too dangerous--"

"I understand. You have your obligations."

Watson did not know what to say. He was thankful when the clergyman arrived and the ceremony was about to begin.

"Do stick around," he nodded to him and walked off.

~**~**~

As they walked down the path, handfulls of rice were thrown. Mary laughed as she attempted to get rid of the grains which had slipped into her wedding dress. Her face was alight with happiness. He embeds the image into his mind, something he could hold on to in times of distress. A habit he had acquired in the army.

It was a simple and practical event, nothing lavish except for the large jewel adorning Mary's hand. The crowd had offered their congratulations and were leaving the premises. Holmes was nowhere to be seen.

He felt a sudden wave of nausea as anxiety gripped him. What if he had left him for good? What if he had found someone else to replace him? What if he gets himself into trouble? He banished the train of thought from his mind, it was too late now.

~**~**~

Author's Note: Hope you liked it. Next chapter will be in Holmes POV, I promise. Oh and, please review. It fuels my... keyboard.