The Note

The day of John's wedding to Mary finally arrives. We have spent weeks making up lists, planning menus, getting the right colors and all the accouterments that accompany a wedding.

I am the best man for John. What I want is to be the groom, but that will never happen.

All I can hope for is for us to continue solving cases and occasionally meet to watch telly.

I realize that marriage will change our friendship.

Mrs. Hudson had told me in so many words about her friend and how that happened.

We have arrived early at the chapel, and my insides are churning. I don't want to see this happening.

I thought when I came back after the two years that John would be there to welcome me and our lives would continue as before.

But...he met Mary and chose to be with her. And now John is marrying this woman. I guess he was right when he kept yelling out to people that he wasn't gay.

I'm sitting alone at a desk in a side room off the chapel.

I take a piece of paper from the writing table and begin to scribble a note to John telling him that I will miss him and how much I have come to love him.

At first, I do not realize what I have written down, but upon rereading it, I am shocked.

Yes, I do love John. Not only as a friend but as I would a lover, a partner.

I'm about to rip it up when John walks in the room.

I quickly stow the note in my pocket, and we discuss the next few hours and what my role is.

Although I have researched what to do for every occasion that may crop up. I have a long, long speech written up for the reception.

I walk out of the room to give John a chance to relax alone.

Sherlock leaves me in the room alone with my thoughts. I am happy I think. But something keeps niggling at me. Do I love Mary?

Do I love her enough to understand that my wild chasing with Sherlock around town will be cut to a minimum?

Will I be happy with married life?

Well, it's too late to be worrying about such things. I have made my bed as they say.

I sigh a bit and get up from the chair. As I do I spot a piece of paper on the floor.

I pick it up and see the writing on it and recognize Sherlock's handwriting.

I almost fold it back up when something odd strikes me. It is to me.

I sit back down to read it.

"John, first of all, let me tell you that meeting you was the best thing that has ever happened to me.

My "fall" was the worst thing I could have done to you.

I should have had someone at least let you know that I was alive and that you would be smart enough to 'fake' mourning.

The way I went about letting you know I was back was horrid.

It made it seem all a joke when in reality you were so angry with me. I could hardly blame you for that.

In conclusion, I want you to know one thing.

John Watson, I have loved you since you walked into Barts years ago.

I do not mean love in the friendship way, although that too, but love in a romantic way.

This statement may offend you since you are not gay.

But that is how I see you.

I would have been overjoyed to kiss those warm lips and take you to my bed.

If you do not wish to keep our friendship after you read this, I will understand.

I love you John Watson and will always love you."

Shit, I think to myself. All these years and this is how he felt.

And I kept tossing him away like the trash in my waste bin.

I put my head down and begin to cry. What do I want?

Do I admit that deep inside I have always felt the same as Sherlock? Do I finally let people see that I am not a straight man? Do I still marry Mary?

Greg Lestrade strolls into the room and sees me distressed.

"Got the jitters, hey John? Happens to everyone. Come on you git, it will be over quickly, and you and Mary will just continue as before. And that's what you want, isn't it? Life in the quiet lane, suburbia, and children."

"Yes, that's what I want. I'll go to Mary, and our life will be calm and..."

I get up as in a dream and all of a sudden I know what I want.

I push past Greg and run out of the room yelling, "Sherlock, Sherlock."

I run past the guests and the pastor and can't see Sherlock in the church.

The guests are just arriving for the ceremony and try to grab me to say hello. I look frantically left and right, looking for the one person I need to see.

As I step out of the church, he is on the steps.

"Sherlock,"I say out of breath, "I want to talk to you right now."

And proceed to lock my arm around him and push him down the steps and to the side of the church.

"John, whatever is the matter? We have to greet all these people coming now."

"Nevermind the fucking people Sherlock. Tell me about this," as I shove the paper in his face.

I'm standing very close to him, my breath coming hard and fast. His hands immediately go to his pockets and then he looks into my eyes.

"John, I didn't mean to offend you. If you want, I will leave now, and you can tell your guest that I took sick."

"No, you bugger, do you love me, really love me as you say in this piece of fucking paper?"

I sigh deeply.

"Yes, John I love you," not looking at him but at the ground.

To my total surprise, John reaches up, pulls my face down and kisses me fully on the lips. I jump back.

"Sherlock Holmes, I love you. It's you I want to marry. And if you're willing we can walk into that church right now and do the job."

"Wait, are you telling me you..."

"Yes Sherlock, I love you, a man, and want to marry you, a man."

I hug my John, and we find ourselves in a long and sloppy kiss.

Into the church, I first have to find Mary, and after a bitter exchange she stalks off.

Sherlock is in the chapel and makes a speech about the change. That Mary and John will not wed but he and John will. The few of Mary's friends leave.

Dr. John Watson and William Sherlock Holmes were married in the chapel on that day in that year for all eternity.