The Truth About Watson
By: Tears of Youth, Beta(ed) by Haley Macrae

Disclaimer: We don't own Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 1 - Watson's Secret

"Elementary, my dear Watson," boasted Sherlock Holmes one evening in the sitting room of Baker Street. He had just solved a nearly impossible case and, as was his nature, delighted in relaying it to his dear Boswell. Watson, of course, praised him as highly as ever; even appeared to be amazed at his genius. After reading and listening to each other in friendly silence for over a hour, the two friends retired to their rooms.

Closing her bedroom door, the Doctor slipped into a nightdress of pastel blue, first undoing the cords which bound up her breasts.

She had a sudden urge to wear a dress tomorrow, but quickly quashed it. She hadn't worn a dress in almost ten years. 'Things were so different back then,' she mused morosely, her mind's eye slipping backward. She remembered the time where she was known as Lilith Watson, only child of Dr. John Watson.

'I used to watch my father all the time, taking care of the sick, even those who could never pay. He was loved by everyone. When he became ill, though, no one could help him. He was the only doctor for miles and died before any doctor could see him.'

The memory of her father dying still weighed heavily on her. It had spurred her on in this great charade--what made her want to follow in her father's footsteps.

'The medical field is still a man's world,' she thought almost bitterly as she caught a glance of her suit in the mirror, 'Which made me what I am today'.

As she hung the suit in her wardrobe, she spied an old photograph-- sitting on the vanity. It was taken after the Adventure of the Speckled Band.

"Sherlock," she sighed, picking up the picture and tracing a finger over the shape of his head.

'Do you see the real me, Sherlock? Do you realize that I'm a woman?' she pondered, setting the photo back down.

Lilith often wondered if he knew the truth. If he did, why did he let her stay? It seemed impossible to consider that Holmes didn't realize that "he" was a she. After all--this was Sherlock Holmes. The same Sherlock Holmes who could see through the best disguise of the King of Bohemia. What could prevent him from seeing the charade his friend was involved in?

Sighing, she turned down the lamp and slipped into bed, resigned to dream about, perhaps, a day when she would be Mrs. Sherlock Holmes.

After yet another successful case, Sherlock Holmes retired to his room to consider yet another mystery; his friend Watson.

He often spent his nights like this, thinking about his dearest, and no doubt only, friend. Holmes knew Watson was hiding something from him, but the what and why always seemed to elude him.

He never probed Watson, for Holmes had a secret of his own. After some little time in thought, Holmes came to the conclusion he was deeply in love with his closest friend.

He came to the conclusion only recently, when he realized that the amount of time his beloved Boswell and Inspector Lestrade were spending together began to irritate and annoy him. He deduced it as jealousy, not just of Lestrade but anyone who might steal Watson away.

There were other clues as well. The fact that he feared for Watson's safety, so much so that most of the time he did not allow Watson to help him in his cases as much now, was chief among them.

As with any new love, there were many questions to be the Doctor return his feelings?

Being a moral man, would he even consider it?

Slipping into bed, Holmes waited for sleep to overtake him, and dream of the beautiful Doctor.

Chapter 2

After a long night filled with dreams of being called Dr. Holmes, Watson came down to breakfast to see, as usual, her friend already finished eating. " You're up early Holmes," she observed, taking her place at the table, "A new case?" " A minor piece of business, Watson, I shall be home by lunch," replied Holmes with a whippish grin, snatching his hat and coat.

" Holmes..."she began, but he was gone. 'What that was all about,' mused Lilith as she ate, 'Well, looks like I won't see him until later. Wait...he wouldn't have a case without telling me, would he? Maybe... maybe he has a lady friend.... Oh, gracious no. Stupid to even think such a thing. Sherlock Holmes is a cold and calculating machine. He has no use for females or the softer feelings involving them.'

Outside, Holmes hailed a hansom and began the journey to the train station, which would take him to York, and the scene of the theft of an important treaty. As the hansom made its way through London, the Great Detective's mind turned again toward his friend. 'I can't let him know about this case. It's far too dangerous for him to be involved,' Holmes told himself as the streets flashed by. 'One day he will realize why I don't want him involved with my cases so much anymore. When that day comes, I shall have to let him know the truth and then, he'll leave me. Why not, after all.... even as odd, eccentric, and generally "unique" as I am, such a relationship won't be tolerated. He deserves a chance to be with someone who he might claim as his own in public as well as private. He deserves to be with someone who will give him all the love and affection he deserves.' Sighing in resigination, Holmes paid the cabman and waited for his train.

After breakfast, Watson was about to sit down with the newspaper when the bell rang. Mrs. Hudson had gone shopping, which left her to answer it. When she opened the door, a tall, fit man gazed back at her in shock.

"Lily?"