Spring Time Romance By Dr. John Watson M.D.

Now, there were many secrets that Holmes and I kept well hidden. One was our intimacy. Very few people were ever privy to this knowledge.

It was a late spring evening at 221B Baker's Street. I was sprawled in my favorite armchair in the sitting room, reading and enjoying my pipe of Ships'.

I had become quite ensconced in a new medical book. Actually, I was so very much involved that my heart nearly lept from my chest when the door slammed open with vigor and a very cheery Holmes came striding in. He shut the door and turned to me, a wide, unusual smile on his sharp features.

"My dear Watson! It is such a lovely day; Is it not?" said he, his grin only growing.

"Did you and Irene have a nice date?" I asked earnestly, ignoring the usual stab of uncanny jealousy which, as usual, I had no reason behind it.

"It was no date Watson, she gave me a case. I solved it over coffee!" Holmes declared proudly. I laughed out right at his smugness. I stood then, setting my book down on the side table, and went to the large window framed by the dusty black curtains Holmes refused to have replaced.

The lovely view of London's spring met my eyes. I marveled at it silently. I have something of a soft spot for the spring. We really do have a stunning look from our window.

"She also gave me some advice...Irene did," Holmes continued, coming to stand beside me. I turned to give him a queer look.

"What was that?" My sharp blue gaze had never made him nervous before, but today, when his gaze met mine, he looked away. This puzzled me even further.

"You see Watson, I'm a man of logic. Of deduction. Of fact...so what has been occurring is truly baffling. However, I have been forced to accept something beyond my understanding...," Holmes said, still not meeting my gaze.

"Holmes, you are speaking in riddles!" I sighed heavily " What is it you're trying to say?"

"I'm...not sure..." Holmes' face turned a soft pink that was so unusual I became nervous.

"Please don't hit me," he said suddenly.

"Why on earth would I hi-"

I can't really say why, but the events that occurred next all moved in slow motion before my very eyes.

In a very gentlemanly manner, Holmes removed his hat, holding it by the rim in his nervous fingers, then leaned in and gave me the most polite peck upon my lips.

I felt color creep into my face, neck, and ears. He pulled back right away, and I guess he was actually worried I would hit him.

Apparently my expression and lack of words worried him some great deal, but, needless to say, I was knocked speechless. Holmes began to apologize. He was on the verge of a full hysteria episode before I came properly to my senses.

Quickly snagging his hands, for he had dropped his hat and begun to wring them, I gently held his cool fingers in my own.

"Holmes It's alright," I don't know how the words came out so calmly "Its alright," I reiterated.

He looked at me, an expression on his face I had only been allowed to see on a few special occasions - honest surprise.

"It is?" he croaked, and that was when I realized his hands, cupped gently in my own, were trembling more than usual.

"Yes," I said, nodding. A smile came again to his face, making his sharp gray eyes twinkle.

My next movement, I confess, was impulse mixed with emotion. I leaned in and kissed him soundly. A very pleasant sensation, for his lips were cool and soft. After a long moment I pulled back a bit. Holmes' eyes were closed and I could tell he was flustered, for more color had found its way to his normally pale complexion.

Our lips met again. This time, his hands slipped from mine and found their way into my hair. My own went to rest on his narrow hips.

We held our simple lip lock for a few moments longer, then parted.

"Does this mean you feel the same?" Holmes asked, his voice taking an odd husky tone.

"What can you deduce from the facts?" I smiled as I teased him. His face lit up and he chuckled.

"We will have to keep it quiet...," he added thoughtfully. I could only nod. He had such an air of confidence it was hard to not feel inspired.

I was, quiet obviously, very in the moment. I was unsure of exactly how I was suppose to be reacting. Hardly aware of how I should think of the whole situation. I was happy, and so was he. That is what mattered.

I leaned in and kissed him again, this time pulling us closer together for need of the contact.

All I can really say to this, for my emotions to his actions were clear above, is that in all of my imagination, I had never known Sherlock Holmes to be so submissive.