At breakfast, Holmes was quiet. Frankly, I was delighted he was there at all. I could not help feeling that I would have deserved his absence, or at least that I would not have been surprised by it, however much it hurt. When we had both finished, and I was perusing the morning paper, Holmes spoke, not looking at me, but regarding his nails in a noticeably intense manner.

'My dear friend, would you be so good as to accompany me on a visit today? There is a shop where once I saw the most remarkable selection of sheet music for violin – many titles I have found nowhere else – and I should like to have your opinion of which you would rather hear.'

I was surprised, usually he plays precisely what he wants, although on occasion he allows me to choose from his current repertoire.

'It would be an honour. Certainly I'll come.' He glanced up at me and a smile of sorts flashed briefly across his lips. It looked a little sad, and as he looked back down, eyes upon the tablecloth, he seemed suddenly melancholy. I wanted to get up, to go to him, rest a hand on his shoulder and give him, at the least, surety of my support. However, I felt a barrier around him, an aura of objection which prevented me from doing any such thing.

We left Baker Street around an hour later and took a cab to the station. It was not until we were waiting in line at the ticket office that I thought to ask Holmes where it was we were going.

'To–' he cleared his throat, then coughed mightily. 'Do excuse me, Watson.'

I waited; he said nothing more.

'To...?' I encouraged him.

'To Banbury, Watson,' he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the ticket window.

If he had not been behaving so oddly, I might not have made anything of the place. As it was, I turned it over in my mind and realised that it sparked a memory in me. I fished in my pocket for my card case, and pulled out the card given to me by Caroline. There was her address, and the town jumped out at me. I took a deep breath and raised my eyes heavenwards, having no desire to quarrel with Holmes in the ticket queue. Therefore, I allowed him to buy the tickets, hand one to me and sit next to me on a cold station bench to await our train, the waiting room being uncomfortably full in this chilly weather. The platform was no better place to argue, so I waited once more and we boarded the train in tense silence.

I was relieved to find that we had our compartment to ourselves when the train pulled away. Holmes had taken his seat opposite me, and to give him his due, he now looked me straight in the eye.

'You are angry with me and my subterfuge,' he said the instant we moved.

'I am. Yes. Holmes, you have no right to interfere with my private affairs in this way, and certainly not when it goes against my dearest wishes, and in particular when it appears you are attempting to drive us apart. Is that your wish?'

'I wish you to be happy, Watson. Strange as that may seem, coming from me. You know there are very few people in this world whose opinions, whose feelings matter to me. You are the greatest of them, as you must be well aware. You have a great connection with this lady. I could see it the first time we met, and I was most horribly jealous.' He waved an explicatory hand at me, and pointed to accentuate his next words. 'But you should be married. No matter what we have enjoyed together, you are not made for life out of the company of women. Go and see her. Allow yourself to court her...' I scoffed and turned to look out of the window. In my head I could hear the conversation we had had during those first few days of revelation. I wanted to shout, to scream my frustration, for I saw clearly that I, however unthinkingly, had put the idea into his head:

'...after all, one day I shall marry again, and there will be ample opportunity...'

'...Well of course you will, my dear fellow, and I am sure the lady will be very happy with you, and at the same time, sadly unaware of what a treasure she has bagged.'

He put a hand on my knee to bring my attention back to him. Part of me wanted to shake him off, to slap the hand away, to rail at his presumption after he had made so gravely erroneous a statement. However, another, larger part of me was desperate to take that same hand, to squeeze it in mine, to kiss his fingers and bring his hand to my neck, where his palm would curl around to cup my nape, and his fingers would slip into my hair and ruffle it slightly. In the carriage, I could lean across, pull down the blind, and kiss him. I wanted to, more than anything. A supreme effort of will held me back. Perhaps it was only my underlying anger that gave me the strength to resist.

'Try, Watson. At least go to see her. I demand it.'

'You demand...?' I shook my head in despair. The anger boiled and turned my mind black. Well then, I would go. To spite him, I would go, because his abuse of me and of our partnership was intolerable, callous and impossible to disregard.

We arrived in Banbury and I strode out across the platform without a single look back at him. With my return ticket safely in my pocket, I could return to London without him whenever I chose. For a brief moment I wondered whether the shop of which Holmes had spoken did indeed exist, or whether the whole affair had been an invention, then I pushed the thought aside. I was certainly not about to go looking for him now and spend time mulling of the virtues of a pile of sheet music with him.

I checked Caroline's card once more as I turned into the high street, and stepped into the post office where I enquired after the named avenue. Furnished with some, thankfully simple, directions, I proceeded to the street in question and quickly located the house.

I paused outside. It seemed a little rude to call without any sort of warning, but then she had done just that to me during her visit to London. Had Holmes and I not been out upon the case, we should have received her without prior notice.

I rang the doorbell and waited. The sun shone on my back, warming me and improving my mood a little. The door was opened by a tiny old lady, her head covered by an old-fashioned cap. I removed my hat and presented my card, explaining my unexpected arrival as politely as I could.

I was ushered into a small drawing room and waited only a minute before the door opened and Caroline stepped in, smiling graciously. I rose to meet her and apologised for my sudden appearance.

'It is a pleasure, I am sure. Do sit down. Will you take tea?'

'Thank-you, I am a little parched after the train journey,' I admitted. She sent for the tea and sat next to me.

'What is it, then, that brings you so suddenly to Banbury?' she asked, appearing politely curious, though I thought I detected a little of a stronger emotion beneath her social mask.

'It was a fancy of Holmes' to come here today. There was a shop he desired to visit and he asked me to accompany him.' I decided I might as well take advantage of his lie, since it came ready-formed. 'But now I find there is little to interest me in his project, so remembering that you lived in the town, I thought I might repay your visit.'

'I'm very glad he had no further use for you,' she said smiling. It was clear that she had no idea, and indeed, how could she? how much those words hurt me. I was thankful that our tea arrived at that moment and allowed me a moment's respite while it was poured out.

After that we talked of other things. Her music pupils, my medical practice, a little careful skirting around our respective pasts, the odd items not covered in her previous visit. I found myself enjoying her company more and more. Her questions were intelligent, her answers lively and interesting. Her amusement when together we made a small joke was delightful and infectious. As I watched her, I became aware that she had edged closer, that her hand brushed mine from time to time, that her eyes were locked on mine...and mine on hers. As I departed, in time to catch the four o'clock train, I asked if I might come again. Her response in the affirmative was immediate, and she held her hand out to be kissed. I did so, feeling a warmth that had left me in the morning returning in some small measure as my lips touched her soft skin.

I did not see Holmes on the train, and assumed he was taking a different one, but when I stepped down onto the platform in London, he was by my side in an instant.

'You returned by this train?' I asked, my voice carefully calm.

'Yes. I thought you might not like it if I were to force my company upon you all the way home, so I took another compartment. I know I tried your patience sorely this morning.'

'You did.' I started off out of the station and turned towards home, leaving him to follow me if he wished.

'Forgive me, Watson. What I have done, I have done for you.'

I stopped and whirled round on him.

'No, Holmes! Nothing you have done today has been for me. It has all been for some plan of your own. As it happens, I had a perfectly delightful day, but it was no thanks to you.'

'I am glad it was so delightful...' he murmured. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath. I could not fully hold onto my anger with Holmes when he was standing next to me, I loved him too dearly for that, but I could not forgive him. Not yet.

Let's go home,' I said after a moment. 'I have no desire to discuss this any more, and certainly not here.'

As I turned to continue on my way, I felt him slip his hand through the crook of my elbow, walking beside me as he had done for years. It occurred to me for a second to shake him off, but in the end I could not bring myself to do it, and I walked along with him as if there were no problems springing up between us to drive us apart.

I went to visit Caroline again at the end of the week. Then once more the following week. On the Monday after that, I took her to dinner at a small restaurant and it became very clear that we were now past the point where one might consider us to be simply friends.

As we ate our main courses and chatted of this and that, I struggled to think. Did I love her enough to marry? I tried desperately to remember how loving Mary had felt. Was this the same? Was this love enough? But I had no idea because whatever I had felt for the women in my past, the only comparison I had left, the only marker I could find in my memory, was Holmes. Whatever this was, it did not match that. It was nothing like it. But then, I thought, maybe this was better. This was gentle, kind, sweet, lacking that tang of coal-dust masculinity. It was, in fact, a feminine thing. Not weak, but strong in its own, almost-hidden way.

Yes, I thought. This was love. Holmes was right. What I had with him was dangerous, liable to destroy me, too much for me to live with. Yes, it was. With Caroline would come that soft and lovely companionship that is the perfect harmony of two beings together in the relationship condoned by God.

In eight more pleasant meetings and six weeks' time, I had proposed and been accepted.

The moment she said yes was an unusual one for me. One thing I could certainly recall about my courtship of Mary was the occasion of my successful proposal. I had been so nervous the night before that I had practised pulling the ring in its little velvet box from my pocket. I had knelt by my bed and rehearsed the words I would use over and over until I could say them without thinking. I had proposed, kneeling in front of her as she sat on a park bench in a secluded corner of St James' Park, beautiful in the dappled sunshine of a May morning under the trees. As she said 'yes', a pelican on the lake had flapped its great wings, sounding like faint applause in the quiet morning air, and my heart had leapt with joy and excitement. The prospect of finally taking her to wife had been overwhelming, and as I had risen, giving no attention to my bad leg as I did so, I had felt suddenly faint, and she had noticed, pulled me swiftly on to the bench next to her, and laughed sweetly as she cupped my face and waited for my vision to return to normal and fix on her. I had kissed her then, and laughed with her, and we had spent the day making the most ridiculous plans for a wedding we knew we would neither afford, nor wish for in reality.

The moment Caroline said yes, I felt a certain relief, and a little happiness. The waiting and uncertainty was over. I had done it. I would be a married man once more, my time with Holmes was done with, and I could walk away with good reason, and without regret. I made up my mind that the lack of joy, of wild excitement, was due to this being a second marriage. How could this match the anticipation of a first marriage, when all is unknown and thrilling? I persuaded myself to accept the lie, and together we planned a simple wedding: a few of her friends; Holmes, of course as my best man, for even now I could not callously cut him out; along with Mrs Hudson; Caroline's landlady; and a medical colleague of mine who deserved consideration for his help with arrangements and for covering me for a number of appointments I was obliged to miss in the course of the preparations.

It was to be a quiet affair, and the day before, I found myself sitting in our Baker Street living room, on the last morning of my tenancy there, helping Holmes to present some evidence from his current case to Lestrade. I said my piece regarding the cause of death, and listened contentedly as Holmes deftly wrapped the whole case up with a flourish. I stared uneasily at the carpet, knowing I should not have worked with him at all these last few weeks. I had put some of my practice work across onto my colleague in order to arrange matters for the wedding, yet I had spent the very few odd hours which I might easily have used for that purpose, in the company of Holmes, racing around the city. He had hurt me, and I should have stayed away, but I had not. I dug the toe of my boot under the edge of the hearthrug and listened as Holmes concluded his report and bade Lestrade farewell, citing some urgent appointment on the other side of town, and urging me to show the Inspector out myself.

Lestrade regarded me from under the brim of his hat as he pulled on his gloves. He glanced over his shoulder to check that Holmes truly had left, then he looked back and took a sharp breath.

'So, you are to be married, Doctor?'

'I am. Tomorrow, as it happens.'

'Why?'

'I beg your pardon?'

'Have you thought it through?'

'Well really, Lestrade, I don't know what you are suggesting, but...'

'You're a fool, man. It's not my place to say, but there is still time.'

'How dare you?!' I was outraged. I had always had great admiration for Lestrade, but this was an intolerable imposition by a professional colleague.

'I dare because I have held you and Mr Holmes in the highest esteem for a number of years now, and I believe that although I may not have Holmes' deductive powers, I am not so incompetent as to be unable to put the clear evidence before my eyes into some sort of order, and come up with some very obvious conclusions. You have taken this path in the past. It never has boded well, it does him no good, and now...I suspect it will do you no good either.'

'I have been married before, Lestrade.'

'I am well aware of it, and I repeat, it will do no-one any good. I apologise for speaking out of turn, but I would rather say it, than hold my tongue and regret it later.'

I showed him briskly to the door, giving him a curt goodbye. As I shut it behind him, I remembered that I had agreed, as a sort of farewell gift, to be taken to dinner and the theatre by Holmes that night. The thought made my stomach bubble with what I told myself was anxiety, but I knew to be anticipation. In the meantime, there were last-minute preparations to be made. I had a suit to collect from the tailor; a number of tradesmen to pay, that the bills might not come in while I was on my honeymoon; and a dozen or so little trips to be made to check times, quantities, colours, and all the many things that seem to be unnecessary in everyday life, but which assume monumental importance upon the easiest of wedding days.

Five minutes later, I was collecting my thoughts over a cup of tea, and planning my afternoon's itinerary, when the door opened to admit Holmes. He leaned upon the chair opposite me, staring at me with an expression of fierce determination.

'I thought you had gone across town?' I asked, looking back down at my list.

'I started on my way, but returned when it occurred you might like to join me one last time before the enforced dullness of your honeymoon?'

'It will not be dull, Holmes,' I said calmly, without looking up at him. A touch of ascerbity coloured my next words, 'I shall be with my new wife.'

'I know, I know... Yet even so short a time... Will you not come?'

I finally looked up, and the disappointed expression on his face, which he sought to cover with indifference the moment I raised my eyes, melted my irritation. I shook my head kindly as I finished my tea and set down the cup.

'Holmes, I am getting married tomorrow, I have a thousand things to do, and I was hoping to go to the theatre with you tonight, but in order to do that, I must run errands.'

'Errands? Tut!' he muttered. 'Oh, very well. Run along.' He turned away and strode across to his experiments on the other table, his trip across town seemingly abandoned. 'You will dine with me at Marcini's before the theatre?'

I stood. 'If you let me go now, yes.' In truth, I ached to dine with him. Our time together had been strictly limited recently by his work and my preparations and duties to my bride. I walked around behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder. As I did so, my mind flashed back to a time when I had laid a hand on his shoulder, and ended up naked with him in his bed. The thought knocked me back from him, making a chill of uncertainty run through me. He noticed my movement and looked shrewdly around at me. Then he rose and faced me, grasping me by the arms.

'What, Watson? What?' His eyes were locked with mine, searching for something.

'You are still happy to be my best man, tomorrow?' I asked.

'Of course, but that's not it.' He leaned closer, to look more intensely, and I felt his breath gusting across my lips. My eyes began to close of their own accord, and I pulled away. I stepped back, horrified at myself. I had thought his dismissal of me had killed my desire for him, but that was folly. Of course it had not. I had simply covered love with anger and pretended that was all. But I had a duty to perform. I would marry this woman because it was what I had promised. It was what I wanted, I was certain... almost certain, and it was what Holmes had told me to do. He had asked me to do it. He did not want me any more... no. I knew that was a lie. I had seen the lie in his eyes, but I would never drag the admission of it out of him.

That evening I dined with him and we sat in the theatre side by side, but I did not allow myself a moment's relaxation. I was too afraid of what a second's lapse of concentration might reveal at this late hour.

The next morning, I married Caroline.