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The letter farewell	By : Laiquendi Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Sherlock Holmes > Slash > Slash Views: 4803 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on the Sherlock Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

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The characters within are not mine and I don't make any money from them.

A/N I typed this with a broken finger in a splint and apologize for any typos. I did beta it but could have overlooked things.
MAJOR HANKY ALERT.

Watson’s second wife came into his study and handed him an envelope. “John, a child just left this letter for you.”

“Thank you my dear,” Watson replied, taking the letter. He opened it and pulled out a piece of paper covered in writing as familiar as his own. A cry of dismay left his lips as he sprang for the door, ignoring the questions floating behind him.
~*~*~*~*~* (flashback)

Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson walked down a country lane towards the train station. They had just solved a nice little mystery of a missing husband and several thousand pounds. Holmes was in a particularly fine mood, whistling even at the prospect of returning to Baker Street. Suddenly however he paused and pulled Watson into a thick glade. “I have something to tell you, Watson, that will shock you and possibly end our relationship,” said Holmes seriously. “However I can no longer keep this secret to myself and have to tell you.”

Watson was stunned. He knew that Holmes kept secrets and rarely opened to people, but thinking to end their friendship of so many years with a simple statement. “That’s absurd,” replied he, smiling. “Friends such as us are friends no matter what may happen between them. If you need to tell me something, then please do so.”

“Thank you, Watson. It is difficult to know exactly where to begin so I must beg your indulgence for a moment,” Holmes replied. “Recent events have made me realize how wrong I have been on one certain point in my life. I have long believed that love was not necessary. But I know now that it can only enrich the thought processes to an extent beyond even what I can achieve. But society doesn’t always recognize love in the correct manner.”

“Holmes, what exactly do you mean?” asked Watson, confused by the almost abnormal speech his friend was making. Holmes always scoffed at the soft emotions and had never before mentioned them save with a sneer.

“I am afraid I have fallen in love with someone who will never return my feelings and what’s more, if any learned of my love, I could be ruined,” Holmes said.
~*~*~*~*~*(present)

It was fifteen minutes to Baker Street on foot, five by cab but for some strange reason there was not a handsome to be found. Watson ran through the streets, dodging pedestrians, the letter still crushed in his hand. His heart was hammering and his wound throbbing by the time he was able to pound on the familiar door at Baker Street.

He flew past Mrs. Hudson without a word, dashed up the seventeen stairs and flung open the door to Holmes’ room. The bed was empty. So was the sitting room. Panic flooding his veins, Watson climbed to what had been his own room and opened the door. There, dressed in his nightdress and gown was Sherlock Holmes, lying on Watson’s old bed. His needle and several vials lay on the mattress next to him.
~*~*~*~*~*(flashback)

Watson moved the next day. He couldn’t believe Holmes had fallen in love with not only another man, but his friend. He couldn’t stay under the same roof with his intimate friend another day now that he knew Holmes’ feelings. Eventually he married again and fell into the routine of his own house. Watson was too tired to chase after Holmes so all his telegrams and requests for help went unanswered.
~*~*~*~*~*(The letter)
My dearest Watson,

This shall be the last time I ever intrude upon your life. It is obvious to me that there is no place left in it for me. Since the day I foolishly declared my love for you in the country I have been haunted by your face. The shock and dismay told me that my mind was indeed correct that I should never have spoken. Rather than listen I followed my heart for the first and last time in my life. As a result I lost not only my one friend but the only person I could ever claim to love.

By the time you read these words I shall be gone. I have spoken at length with Mycroft and he has agreed to manage my affairs should anything happen to me. I do not believe he knows of my choice but he has always been more withdrawn than I. All I ask is that you take my case notes and burn them for there are passages there that shall be all the better for the fire. Everything else leave to Mycroft as he shall know what to do with them.

You would tell the world that my loss would be one of the worst things ever to befall London. Yet your face tells differently. By leaving I shall rid you of the one thing that haunts your life. As there is no place left for me to go, I shall slip silently into sleep. At last I shall have the mental stimulation my mind so craves.

Worry not of your reputation. This letter is the only record of my feelings towards you save any you yourself have written. With my passing from this god-forsaken world, only you shall have any knowledge of this affair and may deal with it as you wish.

Hold me forever in your heart as your
dearest friend,
Sherlock Holmes
~*~*~*~*~*(the present)

“Holmes!” Watson threw himself at the bed with a cry. His friend was paler than usual, lips almost blue but Watson could still see a faint rise and fall of his chest. “Holmes, what have you done?”

Watson stripped Holmes of his dressing gown and quickly tore up the sleeve of his nightdress. Five new injection sites marred the pale skin of his forearm. One of which was swollen and red, angry with infection. It was quickly obvious to Watson that Holmes hadn’t been aware when he made what had to be the final injection. “Holmes, you have always skirted danger and returned whole and healthy,” Watson said, quickly bundling his friend up in the blankets of the bed. “I shant let you leave this earth in so careless a manner and for stupid a reason.” That said he carried his friend from the room.
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The letter farewell