They returned to University the following morning and resumed their studies. Victor was worried about his father's health, but he assured him that he was fine, and with the end of term exams, both of them were too busy to visit. However, when an ulcer caused Mr Trevor to spend a few days in hospital, Victor returned home only coming in to town when necessary to complete the requirements for his degree.

Sherlock had been used to seeing Victor almost every day, but two weeks went by where Victor did not return at all. Sherlock tried to carry on as he did before by dining at their favorite restaurants, but he realized that a table for one was so much lonelier than a table for two. In the end, he ended up not eating very much at all.

He knew though that Victor would have to return for the graduation ceremony. He had the day marked on his calendar. He had bought him a gift, a silver plated bottle opener. It was small enough to fit into his pocket, and it was engraved. It read...

To Victor on his graduation

Love Sherlock

It was innocuous and practical. Ordinary enough that Victor could keep it with him always, and yet special enough not to give away. It was the kind of gift that one friend would give to another. And yet, in his secret heart he thrilled to know that he had finally confessed his love for Victor, if only in this small coded way.

But when graduation day arrived, Victor did not return. His father had ulcers, and his operation was scheduled for that day. Sherlock walked through the campus. He passed the robed figures and their families without really seeing them. To him they were like ghosts, barely registering on his consciousness. He felt completely alone. He stopped in front of the church and listened to the bells chiming. It sounded like a funeral bell. He returned to the lab.

When Victor was gone, Sherlock worked. He never felt lonely when he was working. When he would concentrate on a problem, he could forget that he even had a body. The problems in his head took all of his attention. His studies advanced, and his instructors were pleased with him. They invited him to stay over the summer for the research period to do independent work.

One evening, he had just left the lab when he received a text from Victor.

[I have Good News. Meet at your flat?]

[Yes! One hour.]

Sherlock picked up his pace, almost running to get home. He threw his discarded clothes in the laundry and straightened the pillows on his couch. Then he placed the gift box in the center of the coffee table. He stared at it for a moment and then picked again. He ended up hiding it behind the skull.

At the knock, Sherlock threw open the door to see Victor. He was wearing a tan suit, a coffee brown silk shirt with a matching tie, and a beautiful smile. He appeared to have just come back from dinner. (He only wore cuff links to impress.) He held a bottle of wine in his hand, and Sherlock smiled to think how appropriate his gift would be.

"Welcome honored Graduate," Sherlock said stepping aside to let him in. Victor entered and he closed the door behind him. When Sherlock turned, he found himself wrapped up in a hug. As always Sherlock was surprised at the ease with which the Trevors expressed their feeling. He slowly moved his hand up to touch Victor's back, but by then, Victor was pulling away. He gave him one firm pat on the back and then walked into the room, setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table.

Victor put down the bag that he had on his shoulder and pulled out two wine glasses. "I saw the results," he said. "Passed your exams with flying colors. Good job! We have more than one thing to celebrate."

"Did you ever doubt that I would pass?"

"I would never doubt you, Sherlock."

Sherlock stilled, wondering at the trust in that statement. He almost missed the fact that Victor had pulled out a bottle opener and started screwing it into the cork of the bottle.

"Wait!" he said rushing to get the box from behind the skull. "Use this."

Victor put down the bottle and accepted the box. He opened it carefully, and then held the bottle opener in his hand as he read it. Then he put it down on the table and gave Sherlock another hug. "Thank you," he whispered, his lips beside Sherlock's ear. He kissed his cheek and then turned away so that he missed seeing Sherlock shiver.

"But I've almost got the bottle open, so I'll use this one next time." He pulled out the cork and poured the wine in the glasses. He sat on the couch motioning for Sherlock to sit beside him, then he passed a glass to Sherlock. The wine was dark red, almost burgundy. He held the glass up high, and Sherlock was distracted by the glow of his eyes. He touched his glass to Sherlock's making it ding.

"To the future," he said.

"To the future," Sherlock echoed.

They sipped and Sherlock was captivated by a drop balanced on the edge of Victor's lip. He watched as the lip rose into a smile. Then, noticing that he was staring, he took a sip of his own wine and turned away setting his glass down on the table.

"You said that you had good news."

Victor put down his glass and sat back on the couch. "Yes! I wanted you to be the first to know. I have a job."

"Already?"

"Yes! You know that Indian woman who we met at the Fitzwilliam?"

"Yes."

"Her son wanted to thank me for what I did for his mother. I just came back from having dinner with him."

"I can see that. You have a curry stain on the cuff of your jacket."

"Do I?" he said lifting his sleeve to look. "Well, you'll have to remind me to rinse that out before I go. Anyway, her son manages a chemical company. He told me about all of the problems that they have in their operations. The managers that they send to the factories don't speak the same language as most of their workers, and even when they do, their cultures are so different that their are massive misunderstandings. It's a huge problem for them. I told him several things that he might try to aid communication in the workplace and he said that what they really needed was someone like me to go from site to site and implement the suggestions. When he learned which languages I spoke, he hired me on the spot. It's a very good position. I get to travel, and the money is good, very good. He wants me to start right away."

"That's marvelous!" Sherlock said. "But I don't suppose that the company is in Cambridge. Where will you be living, London?"

"Chennai."

Sherlock went through all the places in London that he knew and came up lacking. "Is that near Covent Garden?"

"No, it's in India, Tamil Nadu. Well, at first I'll spend a few weeks in New Delhi to get my paperwork in order and learn more about the company. Then they'll arrange to get me a house."

"India? The country India?"

"Yes, the country India. What other India is there?"

Sherlock calculated the distance from Cambridge to India, across Europe and the Middle East. That would be more than 4,500 miles one way. And it would be one way, away, away from Sherlock. Probably Forever.

Sherlock had frozen in shock. How had he been such an idiot. He knew that Victor was graduating. Of course he would go away. It was a wonder that he had stayed in England this long. Hadn't he said that he wanted to travel the world. What had he thought? That Victor would take him with him? Of course he wouldn't. Sherlock was just his friend. Just a friend. They had decided. Sherlock couldn't breathe.

He felt hands shaking his shoulders and he focused on Victor's concerned face.

"Sherlock!"

"What?"

"You went away there for a moment. I was worried."

"Oh, sorry."

"Sherlock."

"Yes, What?"

"Are you crying?"

Sherlock reached up to touch his face and found that he was indeed crying.

"Oh, yes. I suppose so."

Victor picked up Sherlock's right hand and held it in both of his. "Sherlock. What's wrong. Tell me what's wrong and I'll fix it."

Sherlock turned to stare at him then. "You will. You can fix this?"

"I'll do everything I can. Just tell me. What's wrong?"

What's wrong? How about the fact that the world felt like it was ending. He had never imagined that Victor would leave. It was idiotic in retrospect. Of course he would leave, but he couldn't leave. If Victor left, a part of Sherlock would leave with him. It would be like someone removing his liver and taking it away. It would leave a huge hole in him. A loss that he couldn't survive.

"Don't," Sherlock said.

"Don't what?"

"Don't go. Don't leave me."

Sherlock started to shudder. He closed his eyes to try to shut out the reality of his loss. Victor was holding him now. His strong hands grasping Sherlock's arms, and Sherlock focused on the contact. Victor was touching him. He was here now. He hadn't gone, not yet. He felt a touch to his lips. Someone was kissing him, softly, delicately. He opened his eyes and confirmed that it was Victor.

Sherlock sighed in wonder, and his lips parted. Victor leaned forward and kissed him again open mouthed, his tongue slipping between Sherlock's lips. Then Sherlock exploded.

His stomach tightened almost to the point of pain. His back curved, and his arms came up almost without thought to hold Victor's back. His groin grew stiff, and he felt dizzy. He needed oxygen. He puffed out his chest and breathed through his nose, since his mouth was occupied. Victor was kissing in earnest now. Sherlock found that his finger's were in Victor's hair. He didn't even remember telling them to move there.

Their lips parted and Sherlock focused on Victor's face. His expression was tender and wanting. He ran his thumb across Sherlock's trembling lips.

Sherlock spoke. "But I thought... but you said... You told me that you never..."

"Never say never," Victor said and his mouth was on Sherlock's again. Sherlock held on tight, pulling him down to the couch. Every point of contact between them felt on fire. The smooth slide of his Victor's trousers against his, felt like layers of the Earth shifting against each other. It was indeed an earthquake that was happening, a shifting of the ground that Sherlock thought was stable. All that he could do was hang on for dear life.

Victor's hands were in his hair. Victor's tongue was in his mouth, and the jacket of his suit tangled in Sherlock's fingers as he tried to worm his way under it to touch Victor's back. Victor pulled away a bit and began to unbutton his jacket. Stopping every so often to steal a kiss. It wasn't stealing though when Sherlock would give anything, everything to him.

Sherlock lifted himself up, drawn toward the man. He felt hands undoing his shirt buttons. He sat up straight as Victor's hands caressed his bare shoulders dropping his shirt to the floor, then there was the feel of brown silk against his skin as he was enveloped in a hug. Sherlock threw back his head, and Victor's tongue was drew curlicues along his neck.

Sherlock felt like he was floating in water. Buoyed up by emotions that were deep enough to drown him. His eyes were closed, and he could hardly believe anything that was happening. He focused on his senses hoping to prove that this wasn't a dream. He could feel the scratch of Victor's cufflinks along his back, the rub of his shirt buttons along his chest. His shoe was about to fall off of his foot as he rubbed his knee along the outside of Victor's leg. And the warmth, the heat in his groin, and between their bodies grew warmer every second.

Sherlock reached up and loosened Victor's tie. He pulled it through the collar and tossed it on the floor. Then he undid the top buttons. Victor grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together. Then he kissed their joined hands. Sherlock looked into his eyes, warm, questioning eyes.

"Did you always..." Victor asked.

"Always what?"

"Did you always want me like this?"

"Yes. I thought that you knew, but you said..."

"I know what I said, but... after ... You never acted like you wanted anything more. You never reacted to my touch or my hints. I thought that you weren't interested in me."

"You thought that? Then you're an idiot."

Victor laughed and so did Sherlock, and the feel of Victor's laughter against his chest was the most magnificent feeling that he had ever felt in his life, besides the kissing. He reached his lips forward again. Victor glanced down at them and then up into his eyes before surging forward to pin him against the couch. He reached a hand between them to unbutton his shirt without stopping their kiss.

The slide of their bare chests together was enough to stop Sherlock's breathing. He never knew that he could feel this much. He thought that he had been drowning in feeling when Victor was away, but this excitement, this elation. It was almost too much for his heart to bear. He found himself pushing up. His hands grabbing on to Victor's firm shoulders. His lips pulling away to seize onto his Adam's apple. Victor gasped. Sherlock moved his lips across the skin finally tasting the join between his neck and shoulder.

"When you left, I thought it was for the best," Victor said, "but... I couldn't stop thinking about you. I missed you in every restaurant, at every new place that I went. I wanted you by my side. When I saw you walking on campus, I followed you. I'm embarrassed to tell how many times I waited to watch you pass. When I learned about the film that I had wanted so long to see, my first thought was that I wanted you to see it with me.

"I didn't know if you'd want to see me again. You tried to hide it, but I could tell how disappointed you were that day. I figured that you were done with me. I didn't dream that you might still be interested in something more."

Sherlock pulled his lips away from Victor's chest and glanced up at him. A disturbing thought on the edge of his mind. "What do you mean by 'something more'? More than what?"

"More than friendship."

"By more than friendship, do you mean 'more' like sex, or 'more' like love?"

"I...what are you asking?"

"I'm asking if this is just for one night. Is this just a last fling, a night of passion before you leave me forever?"

"Sherlock."

Sherlock wormed his way out from under Victor, and sat on the floor. He turned his face away. He could feel his eyes beginning to water, and he wasn't going to let Victor see him cry again.

"Is this what we're to become? What is the popular term, 'Friends with benefits'? " Sherlock said. "You'll go off to India and when it's convenient, perhaps in six months or a year, you'll drop by my apartment for a little... coitus more ferarum."

"Sherlock!"

"What else do you expect me to think? If you gave a damn about me, how could what you had to say possibly be considered good news? You knew that I was signed up to do research this summer. I've at least a full year before I graduate."

Victor put his warm hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Beloved, now that I know how you feel do you honestly think that I could leave you?" He touched Sherlock's chin, turning it toward him, and with his other hand, he caressed his cheek. "I've been alone most of my life. I never even knew how alone I was until I met you. I don't ever want to be without you again. When it comes to my job, or your school, we'll find a way to make it work."

Victor stared at him in earnest, but Sherlock was already won over. At the word 'beloved', Sherlock's mouth had gone dry. He gazed at Victor as if he had never seen him before. Perhaps he hadn't. He had never dreamed that this Victor existed. A Victor who would change his plans to include him. A Victor who actually wanted him.

Victor leaned forward until their lips were millimeters apart. He waited. Sherlock enthusiastically closed the distance, wrapping his right arm around Victor's shoulder as he pulled him up against his chest. They both gasped from the contact and the glorious kissing continued until some unspecified time later when Sherlock rested his head on Victor's chest. Victor enfolded him gently in his arms peppering kisses on top of his dark hair.

"I could stay on another year. Get my Masters. If they really want me, and he implied that they do, I should be able to go down for a while during the summer, and come back to finish the year. Then next year, you'll have graduated. You're a chemist. There must be a place for you there, and I'm sure that the house that they find me will be big enough for two."

Sherlock smiled. He hadn't guessed that it was possible to be this happy. Victor wanted him. Victor wanted to stay with him. It might be superstitious, but he didn't want to tempt fate by questioning things too much. At this moment, Victor was in his arms, and that was all that he would ever want.