Romantic Holmes

I keep my silent vigil, but as the hour grows later still, and the shadows in my room gain shape, dawn arrives, as I knew it ultimately would, uninvited, and more unwelcome than any other I have known in my long life. I curse the first sight of it as I would the appearance of my greatest and most detested enemy, though in all my recollections not even my foulest encounter with Moriarty led to feelings of such complete and utter loathing as those that weigh upon me now.

There are no sounds from the street below yet, but even with this day barely begun I know it brings no hope, only the promise of a slow painful death to the friendship that I have above all others, always held dearest to my heart.

With no way to hold back the sun and my sentence already beginning I drag my eyes from the window and the dismissal glimmers of light appearing through the tightly drawn curtains. My heart, the one which I had until our meeting believed was immune to feelings of love and desire aching in my chest, already preparing itself for the loss that it will have to accommodate, I realise, as I glance down at the man beside me.

The object of my affection still lies blissfully unaware, seemingly unconcerned by all that awaits us and for this last mercy, I give thanks to the same group of deities that I know will condemn us even in the after life.

I am pained to leave him, my dearest John, though I know it would not be wise to be here when he wakes, and until reason prevails, it will be difficult enough to live with his regret without having to hear it from his lips.

I cannot stay abed, cannot linger over the rare sight of him as he is now, sleeping peacefully in my bed and I move with measured care so as not to disturb him. Turning down the covers and slipping from his side I wrap my dressing gown around my shoulders. Steeling myself, I then head for the door, I dare not look back, for I know to delay even a moment longer would be risking once again succumbing to his charms.