Disclaimer: See part 1.
*****
"Why did you not tell me?"
I stripped off my snow-dusted coat with harsh movements and flung it over the back of the chair. Angrily throwing my hat down next to it, I folded my arms resolutely across my chest and waited.
"Well that will depend on what you are referring to." Holmes answered easily, moving to pour himself a drink.
"I thought you were just friends."
"I had hoped Robert would have realised that you did not know." He sighed but made no move to face me. "James and I met after a case about five years ago. We continued to see each other and we eventually became lovers. It lasted for about three years. However this last year, we were both aware that my love truly was placed elsewhere. We decided to become just friends again. He never held it against me. We always remained close, and I loved him. In my own way."
I watched the back of his head intently as he shook it slowly from side to side.
"Why on Earth didn't you tell me?" I practically shouted at him. I am ashamed to say that I had lost my temper with him, and even after that highly private confession, I could not simply forget that he had lied to me.
He spun around to face me. I noted the anger that shone in his eyes; and with a mixture of apprehension, interest and even, of all things, sympathy for Holmes, I waited for an explanation. "And just how would you have liked me to do that? Bring him home for dinner and drinks, introduction following something along the lines of 'Watson meet the man who shares my bed', before we disappeared into the bedroom?"
"But why? Why him?" I asked.
"We all need things to hide from the world with - you had your drink, and I had my men," he said with a nearly malicious tone. He continued, "but if you wish to drop my case, then I shall understand."
I realised that Holmes was on the defensive and that I should have given him time and space to calm down, but my anger and hurt had overrun all other logical thought.
"Drop your case?" I couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped from my throat before I started shouting, "For someone so observant, you can truly be blind sometimes! I don't want to drop your case! I promised that I would see you out of this. Damn it, Holmes, I would do anything for you...but I will not be lied to. I will not be treated like an imbecile. Like...like a puppet you can use to carry out your wishes, no questions asked. Doing anything to help you while being lied to the whole time...that I will not tolerate. You will treat me with some damned respect Holmes, I deserve it!"
I stopped and willed my breathing to a normal rate. There was an uncomfortable silence, each of us thinking about the words that had been exchanged. It was Holmes that finally broke our silence,
"I never meant to..."
"Yes you did, Holmes. Yes you did."
"I was going to tell you..." he began.
"When? Once you had moved in together?"
I had started to calm a little and was already regretting some of things I had said, but I was still too heated to apologise for my appalling words. He looked at me with pain in those sharp eyes of his. Slowly moving over to me, he stopped so that he was so close I could feel his breath on my skin. He raised his hand and I would not have blamed him if he had struck me. Instead he gently took hold of the side of my face and used his thumb to brush away the tears brimming in my eyes that I hadn't even realised were there.
"I am so sorry, my dearest Watson. I never intended to hurt you." He whispered.
Once the contact was over, he seemed to come back to himself, and again a blush overtook him and he backed away for the door. Only this time, he did so without a word.
I could not allow him to run away, not now. As soon as Holmes had shut his bedroom door I followed him. Slowly opening the door I stepped in, slamming the door in my wake.
His eyes widened, "Do not presume to push me, Watson," his voice was sharp and held a tone of warning. "Get out. Now."
"You're not escaping this time, Holmes. What was all that about?"
"All of what?" Holmes said with nearly as much determination as me, but not quite.
"The way you blush when you touch me. The way you run away." I moved closer and took hold of his hand, "Talk to me, Holmes. Please, I want to know."
Before I knew what was happening, I found myself pressed up against the wall, with Holmes kissing me hard. His tongue was hungrily tasting my mouth whilst his hands roamed from my neck, across my shoulders and down my arms. At first I was shocked and I resisted, however, after a mere moment I found myself responding, my mouth and hands as needful as Holmes.
He finally broke away looking down as if realising for the first time that he was pressed up against me. He then looked up at me, and I found his eyes.
"I'm...I...I have to go." Was all I could manage to mutter as I disentangled myself and fled the room. I stopped only long enough to retrieve my hat and coat before leaving our apartments.
*****
"Why did you not tell me?"
I stripped off my snow-dusted coat with harsh movements and flung it over the back of the chair. Angrily throwing my hat down next to it, I folded my arms resolutely across my chest and waited.
"Well that will depend on what you are referring to." Holmes answered easily, moving to pour himself a drink.
"I thought you were just friends."
"I had hoped Robert would have realised that you did not know." He sighed but made no move to face me. "James and I met after a case about five years ago. We continued to see each other and we eventually became lovers. It lasted for about three years. However this last year, we were both aware that my love truly was placed elsewhere. We decided to become just friends again. He never held it against me. We always remained close, and I loved him. In my own way."
I watched the back of his head intently as he shook it slowly from side to side.
"Why on Earth didn't you tell me?" I practically shouted at him. I am ashamed to say that I had lost my temper with him, and even after that highly private confession, I could not simply forget that he had lied to me.
He spun around to face me. I noted the anger that shone in his eyes; and with a mixture of apprehension, interest and even, of all things, sympathy for Holmes, I waited for an explanation. "And just how would you have liked me to do that? Bring him home for dinner and drinks, introduction following something along the lines of 'Watson meet the man who shares my bed', before we disappeared into the bedroom?"
"But why? Why him?" I asked.
"We all need things to hide from the world with - you had your drink, and I had my men," he said with a nearly malicious tone. He continued, "but if you wish to drop my case, then I shall understand."
I realised that Holmes was on the defensive and that I should have given him time and space to calm down, but my anger and hurt had overrun all other logical thought.
"Drop your case?" I couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped from my throat before I started shouting, "For someone so observant, you can truly be blind sometimes! I don't want to drop your case! I promised that I would see you out of this. Damn it, Holmes, I would do anything for you...but I will not be lied to. I will not be treated like an imbecile. Like...like a puppet you can use to carry out your wishes, no questions asked. Doing anything to help you while being lied to the whole time...that I will not tolerate. You will treat me with some damned respect Holmes, I deserve it!"
I stopped and willed my breathing to a normal rate. There was an uncomfortable silence, each of us thinking about the words that had been exchanged. It was Holmes that finally broke our silence,
"I never meant to..."
"Yes you did, Holmes. Yes you did."
"I was going to tell you..." he began.
"When? Once you had moved in together?"
I had started to calm a little and was already regretting some of things I had said, but I was still too heated to apologise for my appalling words. He looked at me with pain in those sharp eyes of his. Slowly moving over to me, he stopped so that he was so close I could feel his breath on my skin. He raised his hand and I would not have blamed him if he had struck me. Instead he gently took hold of the side of my face and used his thumb to brush away the tears brimming in my eyes that I hadn't even realised were there.
"I am so sorry, my dearest Watson. I never intended to hurt you." He whispered.
Once the contact was over, he seemed to come back to himself, and again a blush overtook him and he backed away for the door. Only this time, he did so without a word.
I could not allow him to run away, not now. As soon as Holmes had shut his bedroom door I followed him. Slowly opening the door I stepped in, slamming the door in my wake.
His eyes widened, "Do not presume to push me, Watson," his voice was sharp and held a tone of warning. "Get out. Now."
"You're not escaping this time, Holmes. What was all that about?"
"All of what?" Holmes said with nearly as much determination as me, but not quite.
"The way you blush when you touch me. The way you run away." I moved closer and took hold of his hand, "Talk to me, Holmes. Please, I want to know."
Before I knew what was happening, I found myself pressed up against the wall, with Holmes kissing me hard. His tongue was hungrily tasting my mouth whilst his hands roamed from my neck, across my shoulders and down my arms. At first I was shocked and I resisted, however, after a mere moment I found myself responding, my mouth and hands as needful as Holmes.
He finally broke away looking down as if realising for the first time that he was pressed up against me. He then looked up at me, and I found his eyes.
"I'm...I...I have to go." Was all I could manage to mutter as I disentangled myself and fled the room. I stopped only long enough to retrieve my hat and coat before leaving our apartments.