Chapter Text
The last time I wrote in this was months ago, when life was its bleakest for me. To read it now and relive that awful time, I truly felt that there was nothing left for me here. I thought my project had failed, that I was truly as useless as I felt. I thank God that the universe proved me wrong. I thank God, that John lives.
It has been two hours since we have been intimate. He sleeps now, the sheets thrown over his naked form, and my robe gathered from the floor and covering my own nudity. Nothing could have ever prepared me for such a feeling as sexual intercourse with the man of my dreams, the love of my life. He had been so gentle too, something that I had not expected, despite his caring and careful behaviour towards me. All my life, by my brother, and society at large, I was made to believe that should someone ever regard me highly enough to want sexual intimacy with me, they would not treat me with the same tenderness John had shown. I would be nothing more than an outlet. I believe in this more when I think about how different my life could have been had I accepted my role to live long enough to procreate and to find a woman to bear my children. It scares me, quite frankly, that if my life had gone in that direction, I would never have known my John.
My heart warms at the thought that what John and I did was more than intercourse, it was something that married couples no longer dream of having. We made love. Even as we were carried off to slumber, still heavy with arousal, the last words I heard from him were words of affection and love, and to even think about this brings tears to my eyes.
With him I know in my heart that I can move on from Mycroft’s death. I can remember my brother without that darkness that would incapacitate me should I dwell on him for an extended amount of time. It has also occurred to me that my brother knew about Moriarty, as his apology in his last letter seemed to be written in advance. He tried to stop Moriarty had he not? He knew about Banville’s ties to the madman and perhaps, that was the reason my brother tried to be his closest companion. Maybe I only want to believe that he was still my protector until the end.
You are forgiven, Mycroft.
John stirs in his sleep, I should take care to prepare a meal for us by the time he wakes. I should also propose a bath to clean ourselves proper from our time together.
Hopefully, I will continue this later.
-SH
~~~~~~~~~~~~
October 27th
Much has happened since I last had the mind to write an entry into this journal. All those months ago I wrote of Sebastian leaving and it amazes me how things have changed for the better in such a short period of time. Sebastian is alive and well, living and learning with Mrs. Hudson and filling the role of an educated gentleman more and more each day, he came over to the flat for tea. He is as perceptive as ever and noticed the shift in our relationship. While he has become more mature, he reverted to the old Sebastian and became ecstatic to learn of this. It took all we had to get him to return to Mrs. Hudson. Our tormentor, Moriarty, has been rid of and it has become easier to breathe for the both of us as we become accustomed to living without the threat of his presence in our lives.
Since my last entry, where I doubted Sherlock’s love for me, he and I have also become more intimate. There is no feeling even comparable to the act of making love to Sherlock. I am fortunate enough to see the deeper, warmer side of him every day, but in those heated moments where we are joined as one, a more vulnerable side of Sherlock is revealed to me. I look upon him, feel him, and cannot help but be amazed at the wonder I have in my arms. There is no other beauty like seeing him come undone with pleasure, marked, touched until he is loose and sated. I count my blessings each day for the marvel that is Sherlock Holmes.
It seems our lives are set to move on from this point. Without Moriarty’s threats, we are free to develop as much as we can under the restraints of this society. I am no longer content to stay at home and Sherlock knows this. He has suggested that I become a man of medicine and, after some thought, I feel that that is something I would like to pursue. There is something about helping others, possibly saving lives with my own hands, that draws me towards the profession. Perhaps I am taking after the man who created me and gave me life.
My pure interest in medicine also bodes well. Sherlock says that so far, I have demonstrated skill in the profession and I trust no one’s judgment as much as I do his. Sherlock would never lie to me or withhold the truth. I like the idea of using my hands to treat ailments, to diagnose, to care for those unable to care for themselves. The responsibilities will be heavy but there is a sort of thrill in that.
In turn, I asked Sherlock if speaking with Lestrade about helping on difficult cases would be a prudent thing to do. He certainly has the mind of a genius and I know that solving crimes is something he loves to do. Although I know he would do it for the sake of saving lives and keeping these London streets clean, I also know that crimes and murders suit Sherlock’s macabre interests. However, if they go hand in hand, who am I to stop him? Of course, I will be with him as often as I can, while pursuing studies in medicine, so that I might dull the intensity of those interests from coming to light. It will be a bit of a joke for me, being the epitome of Sherlock’s rather dark mind.
I am excited to continue this journey with my beloved. I think I may take to documenting the adventures that we embark on so that I may look back upon them in the future. Perhaps, if I do him enough justice, release our exploits to the public so that they too can see how wonderful, and smart my love truly is.
For now, I must return to the bed upon which my dearest awaits me. The madman is demanding to be kissed and who am I to refuse Sherlock Holmes such a reasonable request?
------
P.S.
I shall soon be called “Dr. Watson”. Detective Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson, hah! Names for the history books, I reckon.
~~~~~~
John and I had a talk over tea. We discussed the next step of our lives together, as free as we can make it being a couple. I remarked upon John’s impressive medical skills, the way he treated my face after my attack, and his handiwork of Sebastian’s wound. He sipped his tea in thought as I showered him in praise. I also made sure to remark that his writing is splendid and entertaining, and then apologised immediately after for reading his journal.
He then told me that my powers of observation are special, and commended me for my handling of the Carlton Powers case all those years ago. He proposed I begin asking Lestrade for cases I can assist with. I posed the suggestion that John would do great as a doctor, to which he smirked and blushed.
We left the conversation there but it is exciting to know our options for the future, and that we will face our future together.
Keeping John’s words in mind, I took a walk to Scotland Yard today and inquired about any cases that required outside assistance, after intense badgering (and a lengthy deduction about the deplorable state of his personal life), Lestrade relented and gave me a case. A corpse found in a house in Brixton, with naught but the word RACHE written in blood on a wall. John and I will be traveling to the crime scene later in the day.
The game is on!
-SH