A/N: Watson and Holmes are still friends, don't worry, these chapters are just specific days that they are together. If I had to guess I would say they've been meeting with each other about 4-5 days a week every month. And thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Please keep them coming! :)

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I don't even own the name Amelia! I was watching Doctor Who and I just needed a name for a little girl. :(

*This chapter takes place about 6 months after the previous chapter.

I tried keeping my mind off of Watson so I took up a case (the details will stay in here, my journal, and out of the paper for the public is not ready to hear of them). The idea of keeping my mind off of him didn't work, so I tried being careless in order for him to worry and maybe spend a night or two at Baker Street.

Finally, after a week, I found the kidnapper. I was thankful because it started to agitate me; no matter what I did, it wasn't enough to call Watson or solve the case. And I didn't want anything happening to him so I didn't ask him to join me. The time came when I found Fletcher and Amelia, the little girl whom was kidnapped. He was hiding with her in a woods after a storm that morning – a stupid mistake, he would have been better off in an old building or somewhere where a pedestrian wouldn't see and turn him in.

Lestrade, as always, wasn't paying much attention; all it took was a hairpin that Fletcher took from Amelia to pick the handcuffs. Within a minute he was running down a steep, long hill in the forest with me running after him. It isn't like me to slip on wet grass but I did. We tumbled down the hill together – possibly hitting every rock that stuck up from the ground.

"Mr. Holmes!" I sat up groggily to see Lestrade, ungracefully coming towards us.

I looked over to my left, Fletcher was alive but unconscious, and I was about to be the same. All that I remember during that afternoon was leaning on Lestrade while he told me he was taking me to the hospital and me disagreeing. The rest of the afternoon I spent either unconscious or I just blacked out – I've yet to ask Lestrade.

I groaned at the throbbing pain in my head and the rest of my body. My mind became less hazy and I realized that I was in my own bed (so Lestrade does listen!) Before I opened my eyes I could hear the sound of men's boots on the floor, they were to careful and quiet to be Lestrade's, and I detected the slight, unique sound of a limp. Watson! My plan worked, I caught Fletcher and got Watson to take care of me.

"Holmes?" he whispered, "come on, old man, wake up."

My eyes opened and met his; he smiled at me in relief.

"You had me worried, Holmes."

"I owe you an apology but it wasn't as if the Scotland Yard would have caught him again if I hadn't chased after him," I tried arguing to make me appear like myself.

"True," he sighed in relief, "I'm just glad you're alright."

"As long as you're taking care of me, I will be. On another matter, I trust Fletcher is being treated in a cell at Scotland Yard?"

"Actually, Holmes…that is why I was so worried, he died not long after you were brought here."

There was pain in his eyes and I realized that my acts were selfish and thoughtless. I could have been like Fletcher but I was lucky and one day my luck will run out. I'm 42, have nearly died several times, and only felt love once. Despite how I feel about Watson, I still think love is hopeless; people think they have it but they don't. Several times they hide or have their hearts crushed only too really feel once it and spend their life with one person. I hope that that one person for Watson is me.

"How is Emily?" I asked.

"Do you mean Amelia?" Watson looked at me confused.

"Yes, of course, my dear Watson. You must forgive me, I am rather tired."

"She is safe with her family."

"Good. They were pleased with the news of Fletcher, I suppose."

"Yes. Holmes do you need anything? You look like you're in pain"

"I just need sleep, old boy."

"Looking at you hurts. I'll give you more morphine."

The morphine started making me fall asleep and I decided now would be the perfect time to tell Watson.

"I love you," I said as coolly as possible.

His reaction wasn't expected – he smiled as if I had just told a joke.

"You're welcome, Holmes. If you need anything else, I'll be in the sitting room."

I stared at him blankly; he thought I said it in gratitude for the morphine. That night he slept by my side, I watched him and hoped.

A/N: I apologize, I really do. I just needed an idea for a chapter and this came to me in the middle of the night. And hugs and cookies to anyone who can spot the House M.D 97 Seconds reference! :)