Notes: I, like Watson, shall now be frank, even though I am Emilie. The last chapter, Eerie, was complete and utter shit. I see that now, but I cannot bring myself to remove it. Please, please forgive me, world. I normally don't write such garbage, really. Mostly, it's recycling.
Disclaimer: Okay, if I was Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, would I seriously be messing with my own characters and story? Get real.
Peril
I shall be frank. I would die for Holmes.
That is how deeply I care for him. I am willing to place myself in peril that he might remain unharmed. Why, you ask? It is absurdly simple, as Holmes would say.
He is my life.
You see, this is why I endanger my life. I could not bear it if he were ever taken from me. I would not be able to continue with living, I would be empty. I know that Holmes is perfectly capable of looking after himself. He is, after all, an expert swordfighter, singlestick player, and boxer, as well as being skilled in the martial art of baritsu. I know this, and yet I will always rush to his defense.
Because I love him.