P.S OMGOSH I GOT THE MOVIE. It FINALLY got released on dvd in Australia! And my friend and I convinced each other to both buy it from JB HiFi for $30. THIRTY FRICKIN DOLLARS. I'm broke, so that's like a fucking fortune for a dvd. Argh. But it's worth it, right? Riiiiiiight? <_<
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Watson was in a blur of panic as he sped towards Baker Street. He didn't truly think Mary capable of harming anyone. Not even the man who had destroyed her marriage but he couldn't contain the fear that Mary's hatred and resentment of him would be brought down on Holmes's head. Mary knew now that to hurt Watson she only need to use Holmes. But whether or not she would do so was another matter.
He took the stairs two at a time, his heart in his throat and fell upon Holmes's door immediately. He intended to knock until Holmes answered or else he'd break it down.
"Holmes!" He yelled, hammering with his fist on the wood. All thoughts of not waking Mrs Hudson- or indeed the whole street were banished in his panic. "Holmes! Open the door this instant! Do you hear m-
To his immense surprise the door abruptly flew open. Holmes stared at him pale faced, with an anxious frown marring his handsome features. Watson stared back at him, his fist still frozen in mid-air.
"Holmes..." He said uncertainly, lowering his hand.
Holmes shook his head slightly at him and turned on his heel. Watson followed him, closing the door behind him. He glanced around the room and raised his eyebrows. It was clean. Much of Holmes's endless piles of clutter had been cleared away, the floor was gleaming.
"You know, I wouldn't really mind if she slapped me across the face or called me a worthless pig or set my house on fire," Holmes was saying, his voice shaking with obvious fury. "But to come into my home and-
He broke off, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders. He turned to Watson. "I hate her." He said flatly.
Watson felt the slightest flicker of annoyance. "Now, Holmes." He said reasonably. "You can't blame her for being angry-
"No, but I can blame you for her ever discovering us in the first place." Holmes retorted, pushing a frustrated hand through his hair.
"She was bound to find out sooner or later, Holmes." Watson said impatiently. "That I ever thought she wouldn't is, indeed, my fault but it was inevitable."
"Your carelessness has ruined us." Holmes snapped at him, his eye narrowed. "You've ruined... everything." He clenched his fists. Watson wondered if he was intending to hit him.
"What was there to ruin!" Watson exclaimed. "This wasn't a relationship. This was a... a... constant struggle!"
Holmes rolled his eyes spitefully and said nothing.
"And why are you blaming Mary?" Watson demanded. "If it hadn't been her, it would have been someone else. You should be thankful it was Mary-
"Thankful!" Holmes spluttered.
"If someone else had found us, someone who had nothing to lose from our downfall, do you think they would have taken the time to confront us? We would have been in a Newgate cell before we had time to blink." Watson said furiously, his colour rising. "We were reckless. We didn't truly comprehend what could happen if we were discovered. We could be imprisoned, Holmes. If we're lucky. We're more likely to get beaten to death in the street. People despise us Holmes. We have no acceptance among them! In their eyes, we deserve to die and burn in hell when we do."
"So you lied to me." Holmes said bitterly, his lips thin. "You lied to me when you said I was worth the pain, worth the risk."
"No! I didn't lie I just-
Watson broke off with an infuriated sigh.
"You just what?" Holmes snarled.
"What do you want me to say?" Watson spat. "What do you want from me? I'm just a man, Holmes. I can't control everything all of the time! I'm not perfect. I've made mistakes. I know that I'm flawed. I know I'll never be the man you are but I'm trying, I'm trying to be a good man." Watson's voice faltered, he lowered his eyes with a shake of his head.
Holmes laughed humourlessly. "I've never wanted you to be perfect. I just wanted you to put me first, to value me over all others. But... how can you? How can you put me first when you're chained to someone else?"
"I can't divorce her, Holmes." Watson said in a low voice, tiredly rubbing his face.
"Why!" Holmes exploded, his cheeks flushing. "There is no other option! Think about yourself for once! Think about me! You have said yourself that this cannot continue. Sever your ties to that woman! For God's sake, Watson." He turned on his heel and began to pace restlessly up and down the room, wringing his hands. "For God's sake. What sort of useless fool, are you?"
"I don't want to destroy her, Holmes." Watson said quietly.
Holmes rounded on him. "And what about me?" He shouted, his face screwed up in anger. "I won't give you up to that hag! Damn that, woman."
Watson bristled. "Do not say that."
Holmes narrowed his eyes at him. "Damn. Her." He said slowly, resentment seeping through every word like poison. "Damn her to hell-
"I said don't say that." Watson snarled, striding forward and taking Holmes's wrists roughly. "You have no right to say such things!"
Holmes wrenched himself from Watson's grasp, the infuriation evident in every feature. He turned abruptly away and resumed his agitated pacing up and down. "She asked me to abandon you, Watson. She asked me to make you think that I had grown bored, that I didn't want you. What sort of person would ask such a thing?"
Watson was stunned. It was the last thing he had expected to hear. But he hastily hid his surprise. "A person who has been hurt and betrayed." He said firmly. "A person who has lost everything."
Holmes whirled around to face him, his breathing harsh and his eyes dark. He looked as though he wanted to strike Watson or scream at him, a look of frustration and pain came fleetingly and intensely across his face. Then, abruptly the angry bile pumping through him seemed to drain away. He slumped visibly where he stood. To Watson's amazement Holmes crumpled against him, burying his hands in Watson's shirt and breathing shakily.
"Holmes!" Watson said, staring down at the detective in bewilderment.
"I'm sorry." Holmes said in a muffled voice, not letting go.
"For what?" Watson said weakly, placing a hand awkwardly on his shoulder.
"For being angry with you." He said unhappily, looking up at Watson. The height difference was particularly obvious when they were close. Holmes's hair was tickling Watson's nose. "Please don't leave me."
Watson raised his eyebrows. "And when did I ever say that I had any intention of leaving you?"
Holmes pulled back slightly, peering at him with a sharp but not quite suspicious look in his eyes. "Mary knowing... it changes everything."
"I know." Watson said quietly.
Silence fell between them. Neither of them said it, but they were afraid. Afraid that they were now at the mercy of a bitter and angry woman who had been hurt and betrayed and had no reason to protect them except out of pure charity. They were afraid of what the morning would bring for both of them. It would be terrible to be condemned and punished for their love, terrible to be paraded as sodomites and sinners through the streets of London to an ignorant and unforgiving crowd. But the worst fate of all was one where they were apart.
Watson slid one arm around Holmes's shoulders and the other around his waist. Holmes clung onto him as though for dear life, his face half buried in the inside of Watson's unbuttoned coat.
"What will we do?" Holmes asked vaguely.
Watson didn't reply. He pressed his lips into Holmes's hair, clutching him closer to him.
For a while the two men just stood and held each other in the middle of Holmes's now spotless rooms. They didn't want to let go. Holmes thought he'd stop breathing if he loosened his grip even slightly on Watson. The terror he felt at losing Watson was very real. It pulsed through his veins like a toxin. He couldn't control the panic and dread in his heart. Without Watson, he felt he had no ability to go on existing.
Watson could feel Holmes's breath hot on his throat. It was a cold night but Holmes's warm weight was more than enough to keep him comfortable. He wanted to protect Holmes from the dreadful realities of their situation. He wanted to shield him from the hatred and intolerance of the world. But how did you protect or shield someone as brilliant as Holmes? Holmes saw things others didn't. He already knew the implications of their discovery. He already knew that Watson was torn between duty, honour and his deep love for Holmes. He knew that Watson could not merely cast off the chains of his marriage as a lesser man would have done. Watson felt the weight of Holmes's knowledge and wished fruitlessly that he could ease the sorrow and pain it must cause him.
He felt Holmes sway slightly against him. He jerked and peered down at him, the detective's eyes were half closed, he seemed almost asleep. "You're tired. You should go to bed." He said.
Holmes mumbled something incoherent. He didn't seem particularly inclined to move.
"It's almost dawn." Watson said mildly.
"Don't leave." Holmes croaked.
"I'm not going to leave." Watson said dryly. "But we can't stand here all night. Let me take you to bed."
Holmes was perfectly able to walk but he liked the idea of being carried to bed by Watson so he allowed the taller man to scoop him up, with some difficulty, and take him haphazardly to the bedroom. He almost knocked him unconscious on the doorframe but recovered well.
Watson dropped Holmes on the bed and lay down beside him. Holmes curled up against him. Watson got the feeling Holmes was unwilling to let go of him. He put his arms around Holmes and they lay still on the bed in the darkness.
They were both still fully clothed. Watson still had his shoes and coat on. It was uncomfortable but neither of them cared.
"How did she discover it?" Holmes asked into the silence.
"I don't know." Watson replied heavily.
Silence fell on them again. Watson stared at the ceiling, enjoying the sensation of Holmes's chest gently rising and falling against him. If he hadn't been so filled with dread he would have thought this what heaven felt like.
He didn't notice a hand in the darkness moving stealthily downward towards his slightly parted legs.
It wasn't until he felt fingertips trailing down his inner thigh that he jumped and blinked at Holmes, his eyes just able to make out his face in the dark. "Holmes!" He exclaimed. "Of all times!"
The hand settled on the bump between his legs. "Do you want me to stop?" Holmes asked, sliding his hand under the band of Watson's trousers, the downy hair was soft under his skin, he curled it between his fingertips, enjoying the little breathy gasp it drew from Watson.
"Holmes," Watson said weakly, as Holmes pushed his hand further down inside Watson's trousers.
Holmes pressed his mouth to Watson's ear. "This could be the last time." He breathed.
"Don't be so dramatic." Watson grumbled, though he felt a pang low down in his stomach.
Holmes slid his hand inside Watson's underwear and began to stroke his hardening length, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. Watson felt Holmes loosen the buttons so he could take him in hand. Watson arched his back slightly, the sensation of Holmes's cold hand around his rapidly swelling prick was strange and not entirely pleasant.
"Get your hands out of my trousers, Holmes." He said half-heartedly. "Your fingers are like icicles."
He could just make out Holmes grinning at him through the darkness. "We'll have to create some friction then, won't we, dear Watson?"
He began to move his hand rapidly up and down Watson's shaft. Watson let out a low groan, rolling his hips forward.
"Is that better?" Holmes asked while Watson grunted and jerked beside him, his legs sprawled apart.
Was all Watson managed to emit.
Holmes grinned wider and tightened his grip.
The friction certainly was helping. Holmes's hands were rapidly warming up and in turn so were other things. It was strange. Watson had had this particular 'treatment' time and time again but he had never had the odd sensation of his body being entirely cold except for the area between his legs. It was unnervingly pleasurable but different to the sensations he had experienced before. Holmes's slightly callused hand moved tightly and steadily up and down, maintaining a brisk pace as though he wanted to maintain the friction that was causing Watson's breath to audibly catch in his throat.
"Very responsive tonight, aren't we?" Holmes teased.
Watson would have glared at Holmes if he hadn't been too dulled by pleasure to think. As though on their own accord, his hips had began rocking in response to Holmes's hand, causing a surge of heat around his groin.
Holmes brushed his lips along Watson's cheek to his mouth, running his tongue gently along the inside of Watson's parted lips. Watson made a muffled sound in his throat, closing his eyes with his brow knitted. Holmes smirked to himself as he stroked the head of Watson's sex.
"Damp already?" He remarked slyly. "You have no self-control."
Watson opened his eyes, trying to glower at Holmes when he had seemed to have lost much of his facial control.
"You're so easily pleased, Watson." Holmes went on with a sigh, as Watson flushed pink. "You make my job too easy-
"Right." Watson said abruptly, taking Holmes firmly by the waist and sprawling him on his back. He rolled on top of him, looking down in triumph at the bewildered detective. "I'm not at your mercy yet, Holmes." He growled, pushing his lips to Holmes's.
Holmes whimpered against his mouth and Watson felt two hands in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He moved his hands and knees either side of Holmes so that he wasn't pinned against him and crushing him with his weight.
"Undress me." Holmes mumbled as they broke apart. He looked up at Watson, eyes darkened with his desire. Every inch of him was begging to be taken. His lips were flushed and damp with saliva, they reminded Watson strangely and guiltily of the damp tightness he would soon fill. Holmes was so erotic and so changeable. It drove Watson close to madness with lust for him.
Watson didn't need telling twice. He knelt over Holmes, hurriedly tending to the buttons with clumsy hands. He pulled Holmes's shirt off and dropped it to the floor. He slowly undid Holmes's trousers and pulled them down to his knees, and then he did the same to his underwear. Holmes tilted his head back at Watson's touch. He spread his legs submissively and Watson smiled, gently trailing his fingertips down Holmes's cock and then down the inside of his thigh.
He took his hand away to remove his own shirt and trousers and heard Holmes let out a protesting whine.
"Patience." Watson said crisply, he paused. "And don't touch yourself."
Holmes sent him a pained look but said nothing.
He shrugged off his coat and folded it over the foot of the bed and then unlaced and removed his boots one by one, not heeding Holmes's desperate pleas for him to hurry.
"At least talk to me." Holmes whined, gripping the bars of the bed with both hands and throwing his head back against them with a frustrated noise.
"Talk to you?" Watson said puzzled, pausing half way through his shirt buttons.
Holmes raised his head. "Say unchaste things to me." He said long-sufferingly, as though he doubted the clean mouthed Dr. Watson would ever sink to such lows. "Talk to me. Be vulgar." His voice lowered almost to a growl.
"No!" Watson said predictably, returning to undoing his buttons one by one.
Holmes groaned in dismay, writhing around on his back, whining and whimpering. Watson rolled his eyes. "You'd think he was dying of the plague." He muttered to himself. He did not hurry himself, the longer he made Holmes wait, the more ravenous he would be when he finally had Watson's attention.
"Are you too proper to do such things?" Holmes panted, flexing his fingers around the bars. "You don't have to be proper around me." He paused. "After all, I've seen you orgasm."
"Holmes." Watson prickled. "I'm not partaking in your filthy activities."
He must have immediately realised the irony of such a statement while he was undressing to partake in buggery and busied himself with his cuff buttons to avoid Holmes's eye.
Holmes sat up straight with some difficulty, his half flaccid cock still giving him grief. "Have you never spoken about your desires out loud?"
"Holmes!" Watson snapped, ripping off his shirt and dropping it beside the bed. "Please!"
Holmes cocked his head, enjoying the sight of Watson's toned, olive torso but not enough to make him drop his current pursuit. "Are you honestly telling me that you've never spoken about... prurient matters?"
"Who would I have chance to speak to?" Watson said, glaring at him. "Mary? Mrs Hudson? Lestrade?"
"Me." Holmes said simply.
"Well, you're not particularly verbal about such matters either." Watson retorted.
"I can be if you like." Holmes said serenely, lying back against the bed head.
Watson hesitated. He didn't know if he was ready to hear Sherlock Holmes talk dirty again. It was unnerving. Unnatural. But a part of him... a low down part of him... wanted more than anything to hear Holmes's lewd little fantasies. Though Holmes had such limited experience with such matters he had to doubt whether he'd have much to say.
"Alright." Watson shrugged, beginning to undo his trousers. "What 'prurient matters' are you going to speak about?"
Holmes smirked, unseen by Watson. "Why don't I tell you about the first time I saw you?"
Watson paused. That didn't sound so bad. "Alright. Tell me about the first time you saw me."
"You were as brown as a gypsy. You looked as though you hadn't eaten in months. You were covered in cuts and scars." Holmes said, voice suddenly low, almost in a purr. "You had the prettiest face. I couldn't help thinking that if you didn't have your moustache you'd pass for a-
"Holmes!" Watson blustered. "If this is going to turn into an insult session-
"Hush!" Holmes hissed.
Watson rolled his eyes but didn't object further.
Holmes settled himself against the bars and started again. "You were the most pompous, flustered thing." He said pleasantly, ignoring Watson's grumble. "I was quite fascinated by you. Your mannerisms, your way of speaking and acting and dressing. There was something quite unique about you. Something which had me lying awake at night thinking."
Watson rolled his eyes. Trust Holmes to turn a rather sexually charged encounter into a recount of all his clever observations from years ago. He sighed and began to shimmy down his trousers, wincing as his arousal was released from the confinement.
"Of course my years of solitude and self-restraint blurred my understanding." Holmes said, sounding almost troubled. "I had never experienced such things."
Watson froze. "What things?"
"Sexual arousal." Holmes said as offhandedly as possible, though Watson thought he heard a tremble in his voice. "For you."
"How on earth did I sexual arouse you?" Watson asked, turning. "I didn't do anything but trail you about all over London like a lovesick puppy."
Holmes smiled as though he looked back fondly on such times. "I don't know. Something in your manner." He paused. "Oh, and I did see you getting out of the bath once."
Watson nodded vaguely, only half listening as he struggled out of his trousers.
"After that I couldn't help but notice your... endowments." Holmes went on serenely, seeming strangely apt at ignoring the arousal that moments before he had insisted was unbearable. "Of course soon-
"Wait a moment." Watson said suddenly, turning to Holmes with a frown. "You spied on me in the bath?"
"No." Holmes replied calmly. "I said I "saw you getting out of the bath once"."
Watson paused, savouring this. Though he didn't want to buy into Holmes's strange verbal kink, he couldn't help but visualise Holmes at the bathroom door, damp with sweat and steam, his shirt sticking to his skin as he watched Watson's own figure within, moving one hand lower on himself-
Watson gave himself a shake. "You're a pervert." He grumbled.
Holmes ignored him, they both knew Holmes was not capable of being a pervert. Sexuality was as foreign to him as emotions had been before he had met Watson. He still didn't understand it completely. "After that, my body began to... betray me."
Watson pretended to be folding his trousers but he was listening. He couldn't help it. The images that accompanied Holmes's words were explosive.
"I had never known that mere thoughts could control me, make my body move and ache." Holmes's hands tightened around the bars of the bed slightly. "I began to look at you in a different light. I couldn't help myself. I began to wonder... what it would be like to touch you, kiss you. I knew these thoughts were unchaste and wrong. I tried to view women in a similar fashion but I was left cold."
Watson swallowed unsteadily, shifting uncomfortably on the bed.
"I didn't want to give into my desires so easily but... I couldn't stop myself." Watson saw him dampen his lips. "You made me feel..." He inhaled shakily. "Dirty."
Watson gasped. He had forgotten how prominent his erection had become. It gave a protesting throb. It needed tending to. "That's enough." He said, kneeling on the bed and crawling towards Holmes.
Holmes watched him, he didn't remove his hands from bars. "I never touched myself." He said abruptly, as Watson was inches from him.
"What?" Watson said blankly.
"I hadn't ever. Not until recently." Holmes said in a raw voice. "I didn't know how to. It frightened me. I used to fanta-
"Hush." Watson said, silencing Holmes with a kiss.
Holmes sighed. Not entirely from satisfaction though, Watson thought.
He kissed Holmes's neck, feeling him stiffen under him at the contact. He gently suckled on the skin, it tasted like a mixture of soap and tobacco. Holmes threaded his fingers through Watson's hair, gripping it gently. "I used to rub myself sometimes." He said weakly, throwing his head back with a gasp as Watson nipped the skin. "I used to dream it was you. You were so... masculine."
Watson didn't know if he wanted to hear anymore. It was downright odd getting such deep insight into Holmes's sexual thoughts but at the same time, his loins kept giving a thrilled tingle every time Holmes spoke in such a candid and honest manner.
"I wanted you to bend me over the nearest hard surface and fuck me." Holmes all but hissed.
Watson couldn't contain his low groan against Holmes's skin. "Oh, Holmes." He growled.
Holmes put his lips close to Watson's ear, breath hot against his skin. "Use me."
Those words were all Watson needed. He dragged Holmes flat onto his back. Holmes didn't let go of the bars. He spread his legs either side of Watson and Watson paused, admiring his lover's thighs, his now fully erect cock and his tight entrance, begging for attention.
Watson paused. "Oil?"
"On... the dresser." Holmes panted, staring up at the ceiling with a look of desperation on his face.
Watson hastened to get it. It was a new bottle and the stopper hadn't been removed. They had been 'roughing it' of sorts lately but Watson felt he wanted tonight to be as pleasurable for Holmes as possible. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't because he feared this would be their last night together.
He returned to Holmes, removed the stopper with some difficulty and knelt before Holmes, positioning himself between Holmes's legs. He poured the oil onto his fingers. He paused and then poured some gently over Holmes's exposed tightness.
Holmes bucked his hips upward with a gasp.
Watson dipped his fingers into the oil until they were coated and then slowly and gently slid two fingers inside of Holmes.
"Ah!" Holmes spluttered, rolling his hips forward to meet Watson's hand. Watson rested his other on Holmes's thigh, gently stroking him with his fingers.
He released his fingers and put the stopper back in the oil, pushing it to one side. He manoeuvred himself against Holmes, resting Holmes's thighs against his and pressing his cock against Holmes's slick entrance. Holmes cried out desperately, his hands tight around the bars. "Now! Ah! Now!" He sobbed.
Watson held Holmes's thighs tightly and pushed himself inside of his lover. Holmes threw his head back. "Uh! Oh God!" He arched his back against Watson, the bars cutting into his skin he was holding on so tightly.
Watson groaned, closing his eyes as the sensation took hold of him. Holmes was still so tight and so responsive. "Argh! God. Fuck. Holmes." He hissed between thrusts. "Ngh..."
Holmes stared up desperately at the ceiling, his eyes damp. "Harder." He moaned.
Watson obliged. He gripped Holmes's thighs firmly and began to move faster and deeper inside of Holmes, groaning every time the heat and dampness engulfed his loins. He could feel Holmes pressing himself against him, trying to take more and more of Watson, hungry for possession. Watson's eyes, screwed up in his ardour, he now opened to see Holmes's face.
For a moment he was blinded by the darkness but gradually his eyes became adjusted and he saw his lover's face, flushed and vulnerable in his passion. Watson noticed Holmes's cock had began to leak. He moved one hand from Holmes's leg and took it in hand, gently stroking it in time with his hips.
Holmes whimpered helplessly, throwing a hand down to his own stomach, curling and uncurling his fingers against his skin. "O-Oh ah!" He gasped as Watson's experienced hand tightened around the throbbing appendage. "Watson!" His hand found Watson's wrist.
"Shhh." Watson panted. "It's... alright..." Holmes dropped his hand down, his nails clawing the bed sheets.
Watson took his hand away, knowing it would leave Holmes on the brink of release. Holmes let out a whine but didn't seem able to form words to express his dismay.
Watson moved his hand to Holmes nipples instead, they were hard from the cold. He began caressing them, pinching them gently and enjoying the startled look on Holmes's face as this new brand of pleasure was brought forth. He grazed his nails over them, sometimes digging them into the flesh to cause a sharp flash of pain or else stroking the detective gently to overwhelm him with pleasure.
At the same time he realised that the distraction was slowing his pace and he hastily began to thrust faster. One particularly deep thrust caused a spasm of pleasure throughout his whole form and he heard himself moan though he wasn't entirely aware of it. His hand dropped away from Holmes's body, he gripped his thigh again and his movements became quicker, sharper and less measured.
Holmes was panting visibly, his face damp with perspiration. Watson could feel it on himself. His hair stuck to his forehead, his cheeks felt flushed and red. He found his eyes closed again, his brow knitted against the strain. He could feel the pressure mounting below, he could hear Holmes's whimpers and cries as he neared his own completion.
He returned his hand to Holmes's sex, rubbing it faster now, his fingers sliding clumsily over the aroused flesh. Holmes's hands were both gripping the bars again as though he was afraid he would lose control of himself when Watson brought him over the edge.
"Tell... me... what you... thought... when you... first saw me." Holmes managed to gasp.
Watson licked his dry lips and let out a haggard breath. "I thought... I wanted to... bend you over... the nearest hard... surface and... ugh!" He groaned. "Fuck you."
Holmes bucked violently against Watson as he climaxed. He threw his head back again and hit it against the bars but he didn't seem to care. "AH! Yes John!" He cried, surprising Watson with his first name. "Yes."
The result of his ecstasy spurted thickly onto his chest. His eyes fluttered wildly, he looked stricken with pleasure.
The sight of Holmes's orgasm brought Watson to his close behind. He felt his seed rush forth, felt it pour hotly into Holmes, coating his thighs. He swore viciously, thrusting once more into Holmes and feeling his eyes rise upward on their own accord.
Watson felt soaked with sweat and... other fluids. His chest was heaving, as was Holmes's as he laid perfectly still on the bed, his eyes closed and his hands limp above his head.
Holmes's left leg had somehow found its way onto Watson's shoulder in a position that Watson thought couldn't possibly be comfortable. He gently pulled himself out of Holmes and shifted backwards, lying Holmes's legs back down. Holmes didn't move but he opened his eyes, peering at Watson with drowsy satisfaction.
Watson crawled up and lay beside Holmes, still feeling too sticky and hot to touch him but close enough that he could admire Holmes's ruffled hair and pink cheeks. "Are you alright?" He said tenderly.
Holmes smiled. "Of course, my dear Watson."
Watson noted the return of his last name. "Did it live up to your fantasy?" He yawned lying his head down on the pillow.
"What fantasy?" Holmes asked blankly.
Watson rolled his eyes. "Weren't you telling me all about your sordid little fantasies before? Wanting to be "fucked over a table" or something alike to it."
Holmes stared at him for a moment and then laughed. "My dear Watson." He said amusedly. "Surely you realise I only said those things to... intensify your arousal?"
Watson blinked. "I..." He broke off, feeling foolish.
"I was perfectly disinterested in you." Holmes said proudly. "I thought you rather dull actually."
"Oh. Thanks so much." Watson said, stung.
"It wasn't until you showed me the depth of your compassion, loyalty, intelligence and kindness that I began to realise the complicated feelings I held for you." Holmes said gently, turning onto his side and looking close at Watson's face. "You're more than just a pretty face, Watson."
Watson leant forward and kissed him. "I thank you for that."
To be continued!
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