We walked along, Rascal jumping through the snow ahead of us. The fading twilight illuminated the snowflakes. I sighed, scuffling my feet along.

Holmes looked towards the sky. "Watson, I'm so sorry. I never meant ... to... "

"I know," I said. "It's not your fault."

"No," he said. "It is my fault. I should have been more careful. I was poking around, and he found me again. I thought I was going crazy... I couldn't remember where I was, or where I had been..."

I found Holmes' hand, and we walked in silence for a moment. Then he spoke again.

"So, what's the deal with you and Brad?"

I laughed. "There is no deal. He's nice, that's all."

"You're not... he's not your boyfriend?"

"Of course not. I don't have a boyfriend." We stopped and stared at each other. For a long, long time.

"It would never work," I snapped, breaking the stare.

"Why not?" Holmes asked, taking a step closer.

"For one thing, we're friends and how could we solve mysteries if we... um," I stopped, and grinned. "And you're not very romantic, Holmes."

"You don't think I'm romantic?" he asked.

"Well... no, I never..."

Holmes put his arms around my waist and dipped me back for a long, (romantic, might I add) kiss.

Then he straightened and, with a cough, he and Rascal walked away.

"Wait, Holmes!" I called, dizzy. "I've changed my mind!"



He never answered. But this time, I knew it was different.