I walked slowly to the door, turning the knob quietly (for I did not want my father to hear any of this, whatever was happening and whatever might follow) and peering into the darkened hallway. As promised, he was standing there, in that thin flannel shirt with his hair swept over to one side like the gentleman he pretended to be.
"Came to say goodbye." John said simply. I nodded, not quite sure if I accepted that as a valid answer or not. I didn't know what it meant, or if it was serious or not. I didn't know if he wanted to be invited in.
"I said I was bathing." I said rather obviously. John blinked, noting my obvious dress, before nodding.
"Well obviously you haven't gotten to that yet." he muttered.
"No." I agreed quietly. There was a rather awkward silence, in which John rolled back and forth on his heels, obviously searching for something to say. I stood in the doorway, wanting any reason to hold it open farther, wanting any reason to let him enter. I didn't know what I wanted from this night, I didn't know if I even wanted anything at all! And yet I knew that something was imminent, something that hasn't happened yet, and something that wouldn't happen if I let him get away.
"John I don't suppose..."
"Don't suppose what?" John asked just as anxiously, cutting my off midsentence, as if he was waiting for that same thing, as if he was waiting for something- for anything. I hesitated, looking back towards the bath a bit nervously.
"I don't suppose you're looking forward to Friday?" I muttered quietly. John faltered a little bit, looking as if he had expected a great many more things to come out of my mouth. That seemed to be the most disappointing question of them all, apparently, for his shoulders sagged and he merely shrugged.
"I don't think so." he admitted quietly. "Not unless you are."
"I'm not sure either." I murmured. "I'm afraid of...well I'm afraid of her. And what she'd expect from me."
"You mean like...like the wedding night?" John presumed. I nodded my head nervously, clutching onto the door, not knowing where this conversation was leading us, yet knowing of course that it was certainly dangerous waters. Yet that was the point, was it not? If the two of us stayed within our comfort zone we might never get anywhere, we would just be going in circles for the rest of our lives, never one admitting to the other the way they truly felt. That would have been the greatest tragedy of all.
"I've never...well of course I've never been with anyone before." I whispered nervously.
"No, me neither." John agreed. "I honestly don't know what to say."
"Victor told me..."
"Victor? You talked about this with him?" John asked in some exclamation, as if he was almost offended that I had gone to Victor before I had gone to him. Then again, that was before John had returned. That was still when I was vulnerable to that devil's suggestions, simply because I thought he was the only one who might understand me.
"Well yes. Victor's married but he's...he's equally uninterested. Dare I say." I murmured, letting my gaze fall down to the floor next to John's feet, too ashamed now to look him in the eyes. I knew that I was getting dangerously close to some sort of confession, or rather closer to some sort of mutual understanding. I knew that the longer I kept with this topic, the closer John would be to figuring me out. That is, if he didn't already see me transparently.
"I'm sure you can make up some sort of excuse." John suggested.
"I can't think of one she'd ever accept." I admitted fearfully. "I...I can't- John I don't want to."
"Then don't." John insisted, stepping forward now, and inviting himself into the bathroom. The steam had risen up from the cooling bath, and I could already feel the perspiration against my skin. Perhaps I was just sweating, perhaps I was trembling, truly I will never know. And yet I knew myself to be afraid, not of him but of everything else but him. I was afraid of how much I truly needed him, and how much longer I might have to let him go. "God Sherlock, there is an easy way around all of this."
"I can't tell her no." I whispered.
"Don't, don't tell her anything. You don't have to tell her anything." John insisted. He took another step forward, and instinctively I took a step back. I wasn't running from him, or at least I tell myself that, and yet perhaps I was. It was the look in his eyes, that ferocity that I simply didn't recognize. It was the sudden snapping of a million last nerves, the sudden dedication which would make him seethe with rage he didn't even know he possessed.
"I can just be silent." I whispered.
"You can be silent." John promised. "You just have to run."
"Run? God no, I don't have any endurance." I whispered back, stupidly I dare say.
"No, run from her. Get your things; never look her in the eyes again. Get on your horse and just..." John took a deep breath, before rubbing his eyes in exhaustion, "And just run away with me."
"With you?" I breathed.
"I've come all the way here for you; I'm not leaving without you. I'm not letting you leave me, not again. Not when you're all that I could dream about for eleven years." John whispered.
"Oh my god." I breathed, stumbling away from him for a moment. "You're saying it, aren't you?"
"I'll say whatever you want me to say, so long as it's what you want to hear." John promised.
"That was...that was the confession!" I exclaimed. "You love me." John's face grew red, and yet for as uncomfortable as he appeared, he looked to be very much at ease. He looked as though he had just grown to accept his fate, as if he understood now that there was no stopping what I had already set in motion.
"Perhaps." He managed out. "But don't...don't speak of it. Sherlock I should never...I'm sure you know well as I that it's..."
"Illegal." I agreed.
"Impossible." John corrected. And yet he took another step forward, and I, another step back. Yet I should have been counting my steps, or rather have been aware of where I had been heading as I back peddled. For right as soon as I stepped back my leg caught the edge of the bath, and instead of steadying myself I could not stop my momentum. With a heavy splash I fell into the tub, sitting down hard on the porcelain and letting out something of an agonizing, surprised scream. The water sloshed out every angle, and I sat miserably in the middle of it, feeling the need to cry at my own stupidity. John looked like he was at a loss for what to do; he merely stood there with his cheeks aflame, as if he was too afraid to touch me. I stayed put, feeling my eyes begin to leak. Thankfully my tears could not be differentiated from the dripping bath water, and it all blended in upon my cheeks. I did not know what else to do but cry, for I had spoiled our moment, the one moment which might have decided how I lived the rest of my life. Then again, I had at least gotten something of a confession.
"What's going on here?" called my brother's voice, obviously drawn to the scream that I had yelped upon falling in. Before I could rise to my feet to make the matter seem normal Mycroft barged in, his face growing quite pale to see what had become of the two of us. Well of course it was a matter that needed some explaining, for I was looking quite distraught as I sat fully clothed in the bath, and John's face was so red that he looked as if he might have exploded right then and there.
"I was just leaving." He explained poorly.
"You certainly were." Mycroft agreed, his voice hardening as he stood as tall as he could manage, holding the door open rather sternly so as to make it clear he intended John to leave. The boy took a breath, looking at me one last time with something of a mournful expression.
"Goodbye Sherlock." He managed.
"Goodbye John." I repeated, staring at him with my mouth hanging shamelessly open, and my eyes unblinking. Mycroft bid the boy farewell, watching him as he made his way down the stairs and out the front door. I looked at my brother for a moment, yet he said nothing. Obviously he didn't want my explanation; for he knew he would not like it whatever it was. I wasn't going to supply him with it, either. I did not think he deserved it much.
"Goodnight, brother mine." Mycroft managed finally. I nodded, thankful that he at last closed the door. I sat for a moment before readjusting myself, swinging my feet over the edge of the bath and allowing my head to hover just above the warm water.
"He loves me." I whispered, just silent enough so that my words could turn to breath. Yet muttering it alone made it true, muttering it alone made it magical. And with that I took a deep breath, and submerged. 

 Secrets are agonizing when you have no one to share them with, especially when everyone in the world was out to prevent whatever that secret was. Well of course my first instinct had been to go to Mycroft, yet with the scowl he wore last night upon finding us together, I assumed that he would try to stop whatever had already been put into motion. And yet there was nothing more he could do, there was nothing anyone could do anymore. Just as soon as I returned to my room that night I began to pack. The more things I shoved into that little duffle bag the more excited I was on leaving, until my last possession was stowed away and I was ready to take off through the window and drag John into the next town with me. Perhaps I was being rash, yet I knew that tonight had been the guarantee. I could not live without John, and so everything standing in the way of him would have to be sidestepped or ignored. I could care less about the fate of my acquaintances, I could care less that Mycroft would be alone, or Irene would be heartbroken, or Victor would be vengeful. My suspicions had been confirmed, my heart had been given hope, and my patience was wearing thin. The longer I sat on my bed, staring into my now empty closet, the more I never wanted to sit here again. The more I wanted to abandon this old farm house, these fields of corn, and dash off into the sunset with my husband of choice. I was who I was, and there was no changing that now. No matter how much my brother tried to scare me, I would be off to fulfill my destiny one way or another. And yet it would not happen tonight, John was already gone. There were four days until the wedding, surely tomorrow would have to be the night. Yet I would need to give him fair warning, I would need to give John time to prepare himself for the flight. Because he loved me, oh he loved me! How validating an experience that was, how the loneliness just vanished from the air around me! How the darkness seemed light, and how my world suddenly adapted to my touch. How my life so improved, just with his makeshift confession. I slept very poorly that night, for I lay on top of my blankets and stared into space, tingling with excitement and with anticipation. We would be alone, John and I we would run off and no one will be there to stop anything from happening. Oh, after all of these years, perhaps he would be the one to first touch me; perhaps we would lay together in some hotel room, quietly passionate. Finally I would be loved, and admired, and cherished... My breath caught in my throat, and I covered my smile with me hands, lest the shadows witness me smiling to myself. It was shameful, how excited I was for the next chapter of my life. And yet this chapter had gotten old, had it not? This stage of my life was surely wasted on labor, and poverty, and arranged marriages. When morning came I was already awake, and I looked through my window to see that the smoke was still rising from the chimney across the fields. So he was there, still bold enough to show his face on our property. Well of course he was, god he was soon to be part of this family whether anyone liked it or not! Judging by the sun's appearing over the horizon I imagined that they were already out working, and just as soon as the thought passed my mind I noticed a figure totting a large water trough through the pasture. Yes, that was my brother, and so John would not be far behind. I let a tiny little squeal escape my lips, oh how truly wonderful it was to be loved! The wonderful mood I had awoken in was rudely interrupted an hour before noon, when the arrival of a car announced that either one of my enemies had arrived. The only two people rich enough to visit us in an automobile never brought good news, and as promised just as soon as Irene mounted the porch steps my heart plummeted down into my stomach, hiding from her just in case she intended on stealing it for her own once more. Then again, there was a sort of excitement in her presence nonetheless. There was something very exciting about keeping a secret from her, one which would destroy her from the inside out. How nice it was, to be the one able to deny a spoiled little brat something she dearly wanted. How honorable it was to break her rich heart. 

"William darling, the sun is so beautiful today!" she exclaimed upon entering, throwing herself into my reluctant arms and kissing me with some enthusiasm. I had the audacity to pull away, disgusted by her touch, and yet she seemed to think nothing of it. Instead she continued to the kitchen, so as to find herself something to eat.
"Yes, it is rather." I agreed reluctantly.
"Three days away." She breathed happily, deciding upon a peach to satisfy her for the time being.
"Yes." I agreed again, knowing of course that I had to play along. If I told her that the wedding wouldn't be three days away, if I reminded her that it was never going to happen at all, well surely her suspicions would be roused.
"You have your suit ready, I imagine? And your guests are all confirmed?" she presumed.
"Yes." I muttered.
"Can you say anything other than yes?" Irene grumbled.
"Yes." I said again. She sighed heavily, sinking into one of our kitchen chairs and giving a squeal of protest as she bit into the peach, getting juice all over her hands and her makeuped face.
"I feel as though we have so much to do! But there's nothing to be done yet, except wait." Irene decided. "Oh how excited I am!"
"It'll be a splendid day." I agreed, quite sincerely for once. Well of course it would be a great day, considering that I shall be miles away from her, tucked away in some hole in the wall with John Watson at my side. Irene nodded her agreement, staring angrily at the peach as it made another mess all along her face.
"I feel as though I haven't asked this before, yet it was a question that surely has an obvious answer. Nevertheless I shall ask it, to make sure. Are you a virgin?" she asked finally, leaning over the table with her eyebrows flexed upon her face. I blinked, feeling my face flush as I nodded fearfully. She smiled, as if that pleased her, and sat back again into her chair.
"Good." She muttered finally. "It shall be much more romantic then."
"Irene, surely you'd want to wait? I mean, aren't you a little bit..."
"Oh William, oh you poor modest thing." Irene giggled. "Are you afraid?"
"Are you not?" I clarified, looking out the window now and praying that someone will come into the house and interrupt our conversation. Unfortunately I had no such luck, and we remained alone.
"I'm excited." She assured me. "You are so beautiful in your clothes, probably exponentially more so without." My face blushed a horrible shade of crimson, and suddenly I felt myself stumbling away from her now, and retreating backwards to where the front door should be.
"I um...I think I hear Mycroft calling." I whispered anxiously.
"William don't be so quaint!" Irene growled.
"I'm not I um...yes I just have to go see what he wants." I insisted, nodding my head about a hundred times before turning my back and racing out the front door just as far as my startled legs could carry me. Well, if there ever was any firm confirmation that I should not marry that woman, that was it. Even if hadn't been running away I probably would've called the whole thing off after such ghastly confirmation of her intentions. I wanted nothing to do with romance, at least not with someone like her. Not with anyone vaguely female. When at last I reached the barn the first person I ran into was my father, who was tending to the cows. He looked rather annoyed to see me so out of breath after just a tiny little sprint, as if my lack of athleticism really was disappointing to him.
"William what's scared you?" he grumbled, not sounding as if he took too much interest in it anyway.
"Irene's here." I muttered a bit nervously.
"And why does that constitute such a rush?" My father wondered. I hesitated, not knowing quite an answer that would fit that question. I really had no reasonable excuse to be running, and the longer I hesitated the more that became obvious.
"Because I'm uh...not allowed to see the bride before the wedding." I decided finally, to which my father looked unimpressed.
"That doesn't cover a whole three days, it's only the day of." He insisted.
"Oh is it? Well that doesn't sound quite right." I muttered, looking behind me to make sure that woman wasn't following in my trail. Thankfully the yard was empty, and I allowed myself to relax just a bit. "Is John here?" I asked then.
"He's out with your brother, in the pasture." My father agreed, stepping aside me now and hoisting up a rather wicked looking pitchfork. He began to shovel some hay into the stalls, where Redbeard was waiting excitedly. I nodded, before dashing along through barn, almost at an equal speed of my original flight, until at last I could see the faint silhouettes of my brother and my lover, standing next to one of the fence posts and looking quite irritated. As I approached (slower now) I noticed that the post had been broken, split as if some predator had broken it in an attempt to get in at our livestock.
"...coyote's strong enough, if it got its leg up on this." John was saying, rocking the post back and forth so as to mimic the action.
"Why would a coyote even want to get in, the cows are locked in the barn all night?" Mycroft reminded him.
"Perhaps they've learned to breach fences, even if they don't see the animals inside." John offered.
"That's a terrible theory." Mycroft growled. "We'll have to watch over them, then. If the coyotes have set their eyes on our cows, well usually they don't stop until they're skinned."
"Sherlock, what are you doing out here?" John asked excitedly, upon finally noticing my arrival.
"Oh you know, just checking in." I said with a little shrug. John's smile widened, and his eyes looked so lovingly at me that I was almost worried Mycroft would notice. Well of course, my brother noticed everything, and upon realizing that we were gazing at each other he cleared his throat and settled his hands upon his hips in disappointment. Perhaps he knew everything, much earlier than I had.
"You said there were coyotes?" I clarified finally, interrupting the rather awkward silence.
"That's our running theory. There are no tracks in the mud, but what else could have the strength?" Mycroft asked.
"A human." I suggested apprehensively.
"Who would choose to go through the fence post, rather than through the gate? And for what purpose?" Mycroft interrupted, not looking too thrilled at my poorly constructed theory.
"There was a car, wasn't there?" John wondered, looking up towards the house as if he had already lost interest in our little discussion.
"Yes, Irene's just arrived." I agreed.
"And why aren't you with her?" Mycroft asked, frowning upon me once more.
"Because I'm not supposed to see the bride before the wedding." I repeated. Thankfully, none of these fools had ever gotten married. And so they nodded, as if that was a valid excuse, and went on balancing the fence post so that they could nail it back together.