I found the last chapter rather short and dull, so I will try to make it up this chapter. It's surprisingly harder than I thought to mix romance AND mystery. (Laugh) expect more slash scenes this chapter and in the few more chapters to come. :D thank you for all those who did read, and I'm SUPER DUPER thankful to those who actually "favorite" this story! (Cry with joy) it might not be that popular for some reason, but I do enjoy this story personally and will be happy if others enjoyed it too… please do review it if you can!
Chapter 6… to understand
Not before long, Holmes was examining every single detail the room had to offer. It was a space of not great size, with a bed in the middle and a big bright window parallel to its entrance. The sheet was soaked red, and the room was filled with the all too familiar stench of blood. I could vividly imagine the little boy being harmed in every possible way, and his blood slowly drenching the bed. From the bed to the window were muddy boot prints and splattered blood with my companion crouched down at it with his magnifying glass, memorizing every detail that could aid his theory.
Just then, the case slipped through my thoughts and once again he was the one filling my mind. The hard, intense glisten of his eyes, his thin long fingers that held so tightly on to the magnifying glass, his expression that goes soft and intense every now and then as ideas come and go, the dark locks that falls perfectly upon his head, the extreme angles of his face and finally his pale lips that murmured all throughout. Alas! Those were the lips that explain his brilliant thoughts, share his unbelievable knowledge, aid him through his extraordinary cases and maybe that might have kissed me in the course of the night. Why was I not able to look away from those cracked lips? Why was I so troubled over them? At last, I admitted the facts to myself. Perhaps I was craving for them. I wish them to gently press against me once more, and let me feel the warmth again. I devoured my friend with my eyes as those shameful and terrible thoughts corrupted my mind.
"Watson, pray do just ask if a question is bothering you." Those words broke the spell that I was held captive with, and called me back to reality. Once again, my face grew hot as I realize how intensely I was staring at him.
"Pardon me. It seem like I am truly being a distraction to-day." said I with an awkward cough. Holmes just shrugged as a response.
"As much as you know, I favor concentrating on my cases, thinking of nothing else. I highly discourage any sort of distractions." His words stung and I was afraid he will dismiss me from this mystery. I suspected that I was to head to London with the earliest train possible. But the words he said next took me by surprise. "But, my dear Watson, getting rid of you won't ease my mind. Rather, it will be of a greater distraction. And it seems like this time, it is partly of my fault. "
I just stared at him, not able to say anything. He too just stood there, with one question in his eyes. 'Will you ask me?' Even if he did not ask out loud, the question screamed in my ears, and my head hummed with confusion. 'Should I ask him? If so, ask him what? What would that achieve?' For that moment, we both had abandoned the case and were tangled up in our own personal problems. After a minute or two of silence, I finally spoke up.
"I believe you know my question." Said I with the firmest voice I could produce. My throat tightened as if refusing to release the words.
"You should never overestimate someone. My questions could always be of error. I would not risk voicing them out without confirming that this is what truly bothers you. So, now Watson, I would like to hear it from you." He said it with such calmness and authority that I believe he in did have the wrong question in his mind. How could anyone think of such thoughts and not be agitated?
After few moments of hesitation I decided that the best way to deal with this odd yet closest friend of mine is to be frank. Even so my head spin and my face blushed as I uttered silently the question that had been within me for hours.
"Did you kiss me last night?"
"Yes." Not a hint of emotion was seen.
"Why?" There was a slight tremble in my voice.
He just sighed as an answer. He walked closer to me, not minding the fact that he was stepping all over his evidence. He grabbed my wrist, as if to prevent me from fleeing, and finally whispered something in my ears. "Well, pardon me; I thought you will not notice the kiss. But also I believed that you will understand its meaning. My dear Watson, I could simply do more if it's to make you understand."
His breath smelled like his pipe, strong yet gentle. I could feel his cool long finger pressed against my wrist. His hair brushed against mine, and his lips were just a few centimeter away from my ears. These things where making my heart beat way too fast, and breathing all too hard. He slowly closed in more, and I just could not take it anymore. I pushed him away with all the strength I had left, for Holmes was an exceptionally strong man, but he did not resist. He just looked at me with a blank stare and shrugged once more.
"I'll go call the officer." I said in a hope to change the subject and escape his presence. I rushed out of the room, closed the door behind me and fell to the floor with a sigh of my own. What was it that he wants me to understand?