Nikki Harrington


A sequel to Time To Reflect.

Watson is not sure he has ever believed in miracles until now. And as such he makes a momentous decision.

A pre-slash story.

Written: August 2009. Word count: 500.



I am not certain I have ever believed in miracles. At least I hadn't until the spring of 1894 when, three years to the very season after my dearest friend Sherlock Holmes had plummeted to his death, taking with him his arch rival, he was returned to me.


On that day, at that moment, I knew miracles did happen. I knew miracles were possible. They may be rare, but they happened. The return of the man I had missed so keenly for those three years, made me believe that miracles did happen. And if one miracle could happen, why could not another?


Now as we again sit in our old rooms where I once again am able to smile and laugh, where I once again hear my own dear Holmes's own unique laugh, one that does not come often, but when it does it warms me, it touches me, I make a decision.


As we sit on opposite sides of the fire (it is a cool spring) with the scent of the tobacco and smoke from the pipes we are both enjoying, silently drifting around us, I make a decision.


As the day slips into night and the room grows darker and the gas lights flicker and the fire casts shadows, as it becomes time to draw the curtains, I make a decision.


Now that my dear Mary is no longer with us, now that my dear Holmes has been miraculously returned to me, I know what I must do.


I cannot, I must not, I will not live with regrets any longer. I will tell my dear friend of my true feelings for him. Maybe it will be the wrong thing to do; maybe the result will not be the one for which I hope, but I cannot and will not live with the secret any longer.


And there is something about my Holmes, since his return to me, which seems subtly different. There is something in his eyes when he looks at me; something in his tone when he calls me 'my dear Watson'; something in the way his fingers brush my shoulder; something in his voice, which is different. It is something so subtle, few would notice it. But I have.


And it gives me hope. It allows me to believe that maybe, just maybe, my words will not be unwelcome. Yet, even if that is the case, quite what the result of my speaking will be, I know not. I do not know if we will move our relationship beyond that of friends. I am not even completely certain I wish to do so, for I do not want things to change between us.


Nonetheless, I am going to speak. I am going to tell Holmes that I love him beyond the love he already knows I have for him. I am going to do so, because his return to me has made me believe in miracles, and maybe I will tonight experience a second miracle.




Time To Reflect

Believing In Miracles

Contentment Is Mine

Winter Reflections



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