The Last Chapter…or maybe not.

I was enjoying my bath when I heard a knock on the door followed by my name.

"It's open, Locky." I giggled like a small girl but soon shut up feeling embarrassed on what I was doing.

"No, I have no desire to watch you clean yourself. Also, don't call me that." said he in his cold and ironical voice.

"Why are you here then?"

"I'm bored."

"I don't think that more than five minutes have passed since I left you alone." said I with my voice filled with exasperation.

"Nope, 5 minutes and 48- 49-"

"Shut up. I'll be out in a minute."

"5 minutes and 58…59"

After exactly a minute, "John!"

Thankfully I had wrapped myself in my bathrobe and was just opening the door. After I had put on some clothes he said, "Today we're supposed to do what you'll say until 5 p.m. After that we'll be going out for a dinner which I've specially arranged," his smug but subtle smile soon following.

"Okay. Why don't we start with a great breakfast?"

"It's almost 10."

"Doesn't matter."

"Fine. You order for the both of us, I'll go shower."

I let out a sigh and made my way towards the telephone.

He was pulling on his pants- well, he was actually quite struggling with them, slipping every now and then. I smiled at him. The great detective who can catch any criminal in a matter of time, the man of my dreams, the little but equally competitive brother and the darling of my blog readers- couldn't put on pants. I stared at the great sight in front of me for a while and then turned my attention to the newspaper. Sherlock had taken in the breakfast and was eating it when I set the paper down.

"How long have you gone without food?" asked I while making tea for the both of us.

"I think more than 5 days. I usually don't keep count. Why?" he didn't even look at me while saying all that, as if he was ashamed but his tone didn't agree with that.

"Just wanted to know. And how long without sleep?"

"Almost the same. Again, I don't keep count."

The rest of the breakfast, we sat in silence. He drank his tea as if it was water and then later remarked that his tongue felt numb. He seemed distracted with something so I proposed to go out and do some outdoor activity to which he didn't deny or maybe couldn't deny.

We decided on horse riding. He looked cool in those knee breeches and all whites whereas I looked like a teddy bear strapped in ropes. He readily disagreed with the lowly opinion that I had of myself but also laughed. I had learnt horse riding when I was a kid and the lessons came back to me easily while Sherlock was having a hard time. At first it seemed he was really getting it but then his horse threw him on the ground. After two more tries he picked another horse which really liked him and then he was riding as comfortably as me. After that we visited some local shops and before we knew it, it was already time to return back to the room.

"You might want to wear something nice for the dinner."

"Since when do you care about attires and stuff?"

"Since when I got competition." he looked at me and kissed me on my forehead. Since when could lunatics make you all warm from the inside?

I saw him removing a neatly kept formal vest from his bag and frowned.

"No fair. You get to look all hot and-" his lips shut me up. After we parted he said,

"Don't complain. Remember I had packed our bags? Have you even gone through it?"

I quickly made my way to the bag. It had a tux in it, I really can't imagine how I missed this beautiful thing.

"When? How?"

"As always, John. You see but do not observe-"

"Yeah, shut up. Even that gets annoying. You've been using it for some 200 years now."

"What?"

I snickered and said, "Nothing."

After dressing up we both looked like some model taken straight out of the Vogue. At least he did. He was wearing black pants, white shirt on it a maroon tie and finally a black formal vest. He had folded his sleeves which made it even more great. I was wearing a light blue shirt and on it a beige tux with matching pants.

He had called a few people and it really seemed that something was wrong but then he walked to his bag and took out a slip of paper. He walked towards me and handed out the paper to me. Before I could open it he said, "I read all your works about our cases and some on our daily life. I wanted to do something really nice for you and I kept trying to find the one thing that'd really make you happy but I failed all the time. If I tried to behave like other men, you thought I was being abnormal, if I took you out for a walk you thought I was being weird, if I said I love you- you lectured me about commitment and a lot of things which I didn't pay attention to, if I listened to your every word and followed it properly you asked me if I was sick and when I said that we might get married in the near future you got all panicky and threw so many questions at me. I couldn't think of any other way to please you so I finally gave up but as soon as I did you seemed really great about it. At last I decided to do nothing and wrote you this, straight forward and abstracted. Go on, open it."

It said:

'It's not that I don't know,

Just that I like when you teach me.

It's not that I'm rude,

Just that I haven't known emotions for long.

It's not that I can't make you happy,

Just that I want you to find your happiness.'

A tear fell on the paper which, was mine. I hadn't expected anything so deep and vulnerable from Sherlock. He snatched the paper from my hands and I looked up to him. He had confusion and alarm on his face.

"I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to make you cry. I shouldn't have written-"

"Sherlock, that is one of the best things you've ever done. And don't go snatching it like that. I will really punch you hard if it tears up."

He grinned like a child but quickly gave it back to me.

"I didn't know you were trying so hard. I love you."

He smiled again and said, "The feeling is mutual."

He held out a hand and I grabbed it. I stood up wiping the tears from my face.

"Shall we?"

"We shall."

With that we walked out of the door to our dinner which either held a lot of good things or a lot of bad ones.