Two gentlemen of mine and Sherlock Holmes's…tendencies, shall I put it, must relish their intimate moments together, as they come few and far between. Luckily, one overcast day in January of 1898, our landlady had decided to visit her sister in Sussex for the weekend. Naturally, my dear companion and I made the most of what little private time we had.

I held Holmes in my arms as my dark haired lover trembled from the after effects of his crisis, kissing his temples and his pronounced cheekbones and his jaw, calling him "dear" and "lovely" and murmuring "my beautiful Sherlock" tenderly in his ear. As an ex-soldier who has seen much of the world and many of the fineries it has to offer, I can say without hesitation, there really is nothing so gorgeous in all this world as Sherlock Holmes post-orgasm.

We then settled and lay together nestled, limbs intertwined, listening to the sounds of each other breathing. I reverently stroked Holmes's thick curls, enjoying their richness whilst not being plastered back with Malcassar oil for once.

Holmes sighed longingly after a while, his warm breath tickling my skin, and I could swear I heard my sweet friend say "I hate…"

I looked down at the world's only consulting detective curiously. "What is it, darling?" I inquired.

Holmes bit his bottom lip, then shook his head slightly. "Nothing. Ignore me."

"Sherlock, something is obviously bothering you. Dear heart, please, tell me whatever is wrong," I entreated.

Holmes sighed the sigh of a man with a heavy heart. "I hate that we must hide our love from the world," he admitted.

"My dearest treasure, I hardly have to remind you that if the public even suspected the truth about our friendship-"

"We would end up like poor Mister Wilde. No one is more aware of the law than me, John. But knowledge of that doesn't change the fact that I wish for the ability to love you openly." His deft, violinist's finger opened my palm and laced with mine. He murmured in my ear with his pleasing baritone. "I want to take walks with you in the park and hold your hand." He pressed his full lips to my cheek. "I want to kiss you without having to hide in dark corners." He cupped my face and stared deep into my eyes. "I want to be able to stand with the man I love at the altar of a church and say our vows and wear his ring on my finger and show everyone that I am the one lucky enough to belong to Doctor John Hamish Watson."

I took his hand from my cheek and kissed his knuckles. "My dearest one, I understand completely. But there is nothing we can do to change our situation. The law is the law."

"I know," Holmes said despondently, laying his head on my heart in defeat. "I just wish I could tell the whole world that I love you."

I smiled adoringly at the brilliant madman in my arms, who had everyone fooled into believing that he was the cold, calculating machine, but chose to let me see the loving heart beating inside him. I pulled him level with me and tipped his head up to look at him. "I don't need the outside world to know of my love for you. My world already does."

Holmes, my best friend, my everything, my Sherlock, blushed happily and claimed my lips with his in an encompassing kiss.