Disclaimer: See part 1.
*****
I wandered aimlessly that night. No, that is not quite true, I walked with the hope of sorting my thoughts out, but where I was walking to, I had no idea. The snow was falling and the bitter cold assaulted me through my rather inefficient coat. I vaguely remember telling myself that this is what happens to fools who run out into the snow so late at night.
The streets were deserted, not another soul in sight. I slowly walked over to the railing and my hands reached out to lean on it so I could look out over the river. The cold had already started to aggravate my shoulder, which was throbbing in protest.
With a shake of my head I turned my thoughts to the events of the last two days. I didn't know where to begin. I was hurt, that much I knew. But by what? The thought that my closest friend enjoyed the company of men rather than women? What could possibly give me that right? Throughout my life, I had always been of the belief that such indulgence was a flaw, some kind of fault, morally wrong. But now? Now Holmes, my dear, remarkable Holmes, had confessed that it was a part of him, how could I possibly continue to think of it in such a manner?
I rested my elbows on the railing and brought my hands up to cover my face as I thought back to Holmes kissing me, and the way in which I had kissed him back. I sighed with frustration as I reluctantly admitted to myself that perhaps I wasn't hurt at the thought of Holmes turning to a man, but at his not turning to me. I let go of the railing, pulling my coat tighter around me and turned to walk away.
Suddenly, I felt a blow of agonizing force strike across the back of my shoulder, already aching from the cold. I fell forward with a grunt of pain and down onto the pavement. The snow was biting into my skin as I readied myself for a next blow, my mind frantically trying to work out what was going on. However, I was thankfully aware of a dog that had started to bark at the disturbance. I heard a muffled curse behind me, then a shuffling sound and I was relieved when I could hear fleeing footsteps.
I could do nothing but lie there for a few moments, trying to get my breath back. I finally ventured pushing myself up off the snow, and with a hiss of pain I managed to get to a kneeling position. I used the nearby railing to pull myself up the rest of the way. I looked up and down the street, no one was in sight and I knew it was pointless to even consider trying to follow my assailant. Leaning heavily on the rail, with a feeling of anxiousness, worried that Holmes would simply throw me back out into the street after running away from him in such a fashion after lecturing him on the very same thing, I realised that I had only one option.
*****
I wandered aimlessly that night. No, that is not quite true, I walked with the hope of sorting my thoughts out, but where I was walking to, I had no idea. The snow was falling and the bitter cold assaulted me through my rather inefficient coat. I vaguely remember telling myself that this is what happens to fools who run out into the snow so late at night.
The streets were deserted, not another soul in sight. I slowly walked over to the railing and my hands reached out to lean on it so I could look out over the river. The cold had already started to aggravate my shoulder, which was throbbing in protest.
With a shake of my head I turned my thoughts to the events of the last two days. I didn't know where to begin. I was hurt, that much I knew. But by what? The thought that my closest friend enjoyed the company of men rather than women? What could possibly give me that right? Throughout my life, I had always been of the belief that such indulgence was a flaw, some kind of fault, morally wrong. But now? Now Holmes, my dear, remarkable Holmes, had confessed that it was a part of him, how could I possibly continue to think of it in such a manner?
I rested my elbows on the railing and brought my hands up to cover my face as I thought back to Holmes kissing me, and the way in which I had kissed him back. I sighed with frustration as I reluctantly admitted to myself that perhaps I wasn't hurt at the thought of Holmes turning to a man, but at his not turning to me. I let go of the railing, pulling my coat tighter around me and turned to walk away.
Suddenly, I felt a blow of agonizing force strike across the back of my shoulder, already aching from the cold. I fell forward with a grunt of pain and down onto the pavement. The snow was biting into my skin as I readied myself for a next blow, my mind frantically trying to work out what was going on. However, I was thankfully aware of a dog that had started to bark at the disturbance. I heard a muffled curse behind me, then a shuffling sound and I was relieved when I could hear fleeing footsteps.
I could do nothing but lie there for a few moments, trying to get my breath back. I finally ventured pushing myself up off the snow, and with a hiss of pain I managed to get to a kneeling position. I used the nearby railing to pull myself up the rest of the way. I looked up and down the street, no one was in sight and I knew it was pointless to even consider trying to follow my assailant. Leaning heavily on the rail, with a feeling of anxiousness, worried that Holmes would simply throw me back out into the street after running away from him in such a fashion after lecturing him on the very same thing, I realised that I had only one option.