Before Holmes Met Watson (FEATURED)

Day Fourteen: Comfort

While John had been wandering through purgatory, Sherlock had been getting to know Mark better.

"You're married, aren't you?" Sherlock asked on their first morning together. Mark hadn't exactly pulled away from him or got any cooler, but he'd been squaring his shoulders and seeming to steel himself while he prepared them a simple breakfast of tea and toast while Sherlock sat and watched. Sherlock thought he'd spare them both the awkward exchange.

"How long have you known?" Mark asked.

"Since the moment we met," Sherlock responded. "Well, to be fair, I wasn't certain you were married, but I knew you were in a long-term committed relationship with a woman."

Mark looked at Sherlock appraisingly. "You really do see everything, don't you?" There was something sympathetic underlying the admiration in his tone. "No wonder it's so hard for you to..." Mark fiddled with the pot of honey. "You know what we're all capable of." He put Sherlock's tea and toast in front of him. "It's not what you think. She knows. Well not about you, specifically. But she knows that I need this."

"She's all right with you buggering strange men who turn up in the village on holiday?" Sherlock asked incredulously.

"And having them bugger me," Mark added cheekily, lightening the mood in that way he had. "She and I... Well, we're perfect for each other in every other way." Sherlock couldn't quite hide how much it stung to see Mark's mouth curve into a wry smile as he admitted that his marriage was happy and his wife was an understanding saint. "Don't," Mark said, reaching out to take Sherlock's hand. "Don't look like that. I should have told you from the beginning. I normally would have, but you're... Well, you're you, aren't you? I got a bit swept up in the moment.

"You weren't misreading things," Mark said, rubbing the back of Sherlock's hand with his thumb. "There is something between us. I haven't felt this way about anyone else in quite some time." Sherlock wanted nothing to do with the warm, syrupy feeling spreading through his chest, but he'd lost control somehow over the last day. For the first time since they'd met, Mark was hesitant when he spoke. "May I kiss you?"

Sherlock was uncertain of how to respond. Wouldn't it be best for them to have an awkward post-coital breakfast then part ways? Allowing time for their connection to strengthen seemed misjudged.

"It's all right, you know?" Mark said gently. "Wanting this, liking it, needing it. It doesn't mean you're weak."

"Doesn't it?" Sherlock replied, not wanting to meet his eye.

"God, everyone you've ever met has been a complete idiot, haven't they?" Mark exclaimed in frustration. "Anyone with eyes can see you're the most romantic person on the planet."

"I'm not romantic," Sherlock exclaimed, insulted by the implication.

"You're the cleverest person I've ever met," Mark retorted, squeezing Sherlock's hand. "My wife has two Ph.Ds. I know clever. You could have been or done just about anything, and you chose to become a detective. You desperately want the world to be a better place. You've staked everything on trying to make that happen. You've given up so much. It's the most romantic thing I've ever seen.

"And if you ever let yourself love someone, let them love you back... You'd build a cathedral to please them or burn a city to the ground to avenge a slight to them. You're the most passionate person I've ever met, but the only place you've allowed yourself to show it is in your work. But this," Mark let go of Sherlock's hand and stepped away from him, gesturing at the kitchen. "Us here together in this place. You want some version of this. But you don't think you can have it, don't think you deserve it."