A/N – Thanks for the reviews. I'm getting into this again! I thought I'd
write a little chapter... Hope you like it
Holmes wasn't at Baker Street in the morning. I wasn't surprised at this; after the outburst of emotion last night I hadn't expected him to be here in the morning. He had left a note though. I picked it up curiously; in his neat script it read:
'Watson, I sincerely hope my actions last night have not disrupted too much; I do not deserve you friendship, nor that of your sister and I can only hope that the damage done is not irreparable. I have behaved inappropriately and, worse than that, insultingly. The only consolation I can offer is that even if you forgive me, I will not forgive myself. H'
This letter was unlike Holmes' usual flippant style and it made me uneasy; his bruised pride would take a long time to recover. I slipped the note into my pocket and rang for my breakfast. As I was waiting I slipped into a reverie and found myself probing my own feelings on the subject.
At first I had been angry. I had felt as if Holmes had betrayed my trust in some way; he had taken my sister's innocent interest in him and twisted it into love. How could Holmes love her, I had thought. His misogynistic nature would not allow it, surely?
But as I had lain through the night (for I could not sleep) I looked at it more logically. I knew my sister was an attractive young woman - yes a woman, not a girl anymore – intelligent and witty also. As I thought over the last few days my sister's small smiles and dreamy expression came back to me. Could it be possible that she reciprocated his feelings? I had never thought Holmes the most attractive of men; it was not in his nature to be charming, but despite this the idea was not impossible. He was intelligent and not intimidated by hers and despite being slightly severe, his physical features were not unpleasant either; his face was a strong one and his body lean. But it all seemed so unlikely...
And so I was left, pondering over my breakfast, wondering what my feelings really were and what I should do. I was adamant to find Holmes at least, and tell him that he needn't be shamed. But where could he be?
And what should I do about Sophia?
Holmes wasn't at Baker Street in the morning. I wasn't surprised at this; after the outburst of emotion last night I hadn't expected him to be here in the morning. He had left a note though. I picked it up curiously; in his neat script it read:
'Watson, I sincerely hope my actions last night have not disrupted too much; I do not deserve you friendship, nor that of your sister and I can only hope that the damage done is not irreparable. I have behaved inappropriately and, worse than that, insultingly. The only consolation I can offer is that even if you forgive me, I will not forgive myself. H'
This letter was unlike Holmes' usual flippant style and it made me uneasy; his bruised pride would take a long time to recover. I slipped the note into my pocket and rang for my breakfast. As I was waiting I slipped into a reverie and found myself probing my own feelings on the subject.
At first I had been angry. I had felt as if Holmes had betrayed my trust in some way; he had taken my sister's innocent interest in him and twisted it into love. How could Holmes love her, I had thought. His misogynistic nature would not allow it, surely?
But as I had lain through the night (for I could not sleep) I looked at it more logically. I knew my sister was an attractive young woman - yes a woman, not a girl anymore – intelligent and witty also. As I thought over the last few days my sister's small smiles and dreamy expression came back to me. Could it be possible that she reciprocated his feelings? I had never thought Holmes the most attractive of men; it was not in his nature to be charming, but despite this the idea was not impossible. He was intelligent and not intimidated by hers and despite being slightly severe, his physical features were not unpleasant either; his face was a strong one and his body lean. But it all seemed so unlikely...
And so I was left, pondering over my breakfast, wondering what my feelings really were and what I should do. I was adamant to find Holmes at least, and tell him that he needn't be shamed. But where could he be?
And what should I do about Sophia?