Notes: Um…
Disclaimer: This is a fanfiction. Please note the word 'fan'. It means I don't own the characters.
Repel
No.
How could I have done it? How could I have been so stupid? He was never meant to know. I was never going to tell him.
He stood by me through so, so much. Despite everything--my vices, my profession, and the numerous dangers that I thoughtlessly dragged him into--he has remained with me. He has never once abandoned me.
How could I have let impulse rule me at that moment? How could I have let my emotions, repressed for years, burst through the dam?
I did not mean to do it. To kiss Watson. But...we had just returned from a case, a difficult case, and we were celebrating in our rooms at Baker Street. A glass of brandy each was all the alcohol we had, so I could not afterward claim to be inebriated. We were joking, and Watson laughed--such a deep, rich, hearty sound. His hazel eyes shone in the lamplight, his hair was still damp from our chase through the rain that was still falling outside, and I thought he was absolutely beautiful.
I had long known of my deviant feelings for him, but I had tried to conceal them, to smother them with cocaine.
Needless to say, it did little to help. Watson was always there, always by my side. Nothing I did or said could drive my stalwart doctor from me. Still, I had hidden my feelings, or tried to.
On that night, I could restrain myself no longer.
I kissed him. My dear, innocent, moral doctor. I kissed him.
It was the most wonderful moment of my life. His lips were so soft, so sweet. I closed my eyes and imagined that he was reciprocating the kiss.
He wasn't. He pushed me away from him, roughly, and I stumbled, near-drunk on my euphoria at having finally, finally doing something I had wanted to do since almost the first moment of our acquaintance.
He shouted, and my happiness suddenly evaporated. He was yelling, yelling things I did not comprehend, so shocked and kiss-drunk was I.
He brought his hand up as though to strike me, but stopped himself at the last moment, choosing instead to run from the room, and out of my life.
I had finally driven him away.