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Title The Return of Sherlock Holmes - Part 6, Sherlock Holmes
Characters Holmes/Watson, Lestrade
Fandom Sherlock Holmes
Rating 18
SeriesThe Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes
Summary Based around The Empty House but set in a paranormal/steampunk AU. Sherlock returns to England, followed by an old enemy.
Warnings Vampires, explicit sex
Author's Notes Based on a combination of book and Granada TV canon. With thanks to Gil and Fred for the beta and Lucas and Ginny for unreserved encouragement (is it still 'encouragement when it comes with threats and pointy sticks?).
As I leant into Watson's touch I could feel the nervous energy that had sustained me the past three years beginning to ebb away. I knew I would need that energy until the fiend Moriarty was defeated, but in Watson's warm sitting room, with his comforting weight pressed against me I felt too safe and protected to remain so alert.
Watson must have sensed my growing lethargy as he rose from his seat on the arm of my chair and tucked a blanket around me. “Remain here, Sherlock. I shall go and retrieve our dinner from the kitchen and you can eat it by the fire.” He brushed his fingers lightly through my hair and then left the room.
I knew that it was dangerous to relax too much, however I could not sense Moriarty's presence nearby, so I allowed myself a brief second of repose, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against one of the wings of the chair. I must have been more tired than I thought, as it seemed only a moment later that Watson was shaking me to awaken me from my slumber.
I apologised hastily but he just shook his head and pressed a bowl of some manner of stew, and a spoon, into my hands.
“You have nothing to apologise for, old friend. I should have recognised your fatigue and not have pressed you for so many details; goodness knows I have seen you work yourself into this state often enough in the past. Where were you planning to sleep tonight, Holmes?”
I had not actually considered the issue as my only concern had been whether Watson could bear to forgive me for my betrayal, but it would not do to let him know that. “There are a few places in London where I can acquire a bed for the night without attracting attention,” I told him. “One of the advantages of my profession is a better than average knowledge of the less salubrious neighbourhoods of the city and there are many places where one can acquire a room with no questions being asked provided you have the financial inducement necessary to hand.”
Watson frowned. “Do you truly believe I will let you spend the night in some backstreet inn or worse in your current condition? You will spend the night here if I have to put you to bed myself to be sure of it.” He paused and I smiled sleepily at him, making him frown in irritation. “You knew I would say that and had no intention of leaving, especially as you fear Moriarty may be watching us.”
I chuckled. “Staying here was not my intention when I braved the dragon guarding the gate and forced my way in, but since you seem to bear me no ill will, then yes I will admit, I knew you would not let me leave and in truth I have nowhere particular to go although I could secure myself a room were it to become necessary.”
“You truly are incorrigible, Holmes,” Watson told me, but I could detect a note of affection in his tone so I did not worry overly much about it. “Let me help you to bed, my friend. I do not have a second bedroom here so it seems we have no choice but to share a room. I assume you would have no objection to that?”
“Given the circumstances I believe it is only logical for us to share a bed,” I told him dryly. “It would be churlish to turn my host out of his own bed.”
Laughing, Watson helped me to my feet. “Then let me help you upstairs and put you to bed. You look on the verge of collapse.”
Watson insisted on keeping hold of me as we ascended the stairs to his bedroom. I should like to say that it wasn't necessary, but after three years of constant travelling, the last twelve months of which had allowed me little rest, I fear that without his aid I would have fallen. Once in his bedroom, I looked around curiously. The room was masculine in appearance and it was obvious even at a single glance that Mary had never lived here. Even though the very thought pricked my conscience, I was glad. While Mary and I had shared Watson's affections, we had never done so in the same bed. When he had stayed at the rooms in Baker Street he had been mine and when he had returned home to Mary he had belonged to her.
On the table beside the bed there stood a small clock and two pocket-sized miniatures. I did not need to examine them to know who they would depict.
I was firmly turned around to face Watson and strong, capable hands began to unfasten my collar, deftly removing the studs and depositing it on the table. My jacket was hung carelessly over the back of a chair and then my waistcoat was removed. My shirt and under-shirt both followed before I halted Watson's progress with a gentle hand on his wrist.
“I may be suffering from fatigue, my dear fellow, but I am perfectly capable of finishing the job myself. It seems to me that if you concentrate on my attire at the expense of your own then when you are done you will be a trifle overdressed. I would greatly prefer it if you turned your attention to your own wardrobe so that we may slip into bed together rather than leaving me to warm the chilled linens with my body while you disrobe.”
Watson shook his head, but stepped back. “You do not always have to direct things, Holmes. Occasionally, it would be appreciated if you would allow someone else to be in charge. Besides, have you considered that perhaps I wish to see you disrobed as it is a sight I have greatly missed in the last three years?”
I reached out and tangled my fingers briefly with his, bringing his hand to my lips so that I could brush a gentle kiss across the knuckles. “And you believe I do not feel the same anticipation, my dear John? I too have missed seeing your body, especially when it is spread out on our sheets and you are waiting for me to join you. I have visited museums in every great city on this continent and I have yet to see a work of art that has captured even half the beauty I see in your form.”
For a moment Watson seemed bereft of words and were I a more romantic soul I would swear that his eyes glistened more brightly than simple candlelight could explain.
“Sherlock ...” He swallowed and pulled his hand from my grip. “Then I shall disrobe with all alacrity, but I expect you to do the same. I wish to feel your body against mine and to know that you are truly alive and here with me after all this time.”
After that there was silence, broken only by the rustling of clothing as we both lost no time in removing all the impediments that had so far prevented us from feeling the other's flesh against our own. As I had predicted I was the first to be fully bare and I shivered as I slid between the cool sheets to await Watson's presence.
When he was finally stripped bare Watson lifted the covers and climbed into the bed next to me. We were close enough that I could feel his body heat and it warmed me in more ways than just the physical. Reaching up I tugged his head down too mine and gently covered his lips with my own, sharing a chaste kiss even as our bodies finally entwined themselves around one another.
Pulling back slowly, his reluctance etched in every line of his body, Watson gently caressed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You are too pale, even by your standards, Sherlock. Your skin is practically translucent in the lamplight. Once this case is over and Moriarty has gone to his eternal rest, I am going to take you away somewhere for a week. I believe we should head for the seaside, perhaps rent a cottage with a small laboratory, and you can spend the week perfecting your alchemical studies during the day and studying something far more … practical at night.”
I chuckled at Watson's little joke. “Anatomy, perchance? I was not aware my skills had become so stagnant but perhaps a refresher course would be in line. I confess that the idea of a week spent in isolation is not an unpalatable one, John. Especially as once we are done with this case my presence will no doubt become public knowledge.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought of all the people who might wish to call on us and assure themselves that I truly was alive. Other than Mrs Hudson and Inspector Lestrade I could not think of a single one of them I wished to waste a moment on.
“It just so happens, my dear friend, that I know someone who would be delighted to assist you with your anatomical study.” He pulled the covers to one side, exposing my body to the cool air. “But for now, I think I would like you to simply lie there and rest. You are exhausted. Let me try to relax you enough that you can sleep.”
I propped myself up on one elbow. “That would seem to be doing you a disservice, John. You deserve more than to have to care for me yet again.” After all the grief I had caused him it should be me lavishing attention on him, not the reverse.
He kissed me again and I opened my mouth, inviting his tongue to dance with mine for a moment. “No, Sherlock, not this time. I give you my oath that once this case is concluded you may do whatever you wish to me, but for now let me pamper you. Conserve your energy for the confrontation that is surely to come.”
Kissing him once more as words were not adequate to express my gratitude for his forgiveness and compassion towards me, I did as he instructed and stretched out on the sheets, wriggling sensuously when I realised he was observing my every move. I may tease him about seeing but not observing in his daily life but whenever I have shared a bed with him I have never found Watson to be anything but observant. He is the most attentive lover I have ever shared my body with and I could feel the familiar excitement starting to flow through my veins as he watched me.
Nodding in approval of my acquiescence he reached out and ran his fingers tenderly over my torso, feeling the muscles twitch under his hands. He frowned slightly and rested his palm on my chest, feeling my heart beating under his hand. “Turn over, Holmes. I'm going to rub your back before I try anything else. You feel as if you are strung tighter than your violin.”
“Three years of being unable to relax will do that to a man, my dear Doctor. But now that I have returned home I must admit the tension is starting to ebb. I no longer feel as if I must be alert even in my sleep with you here.” I rolled onto my abdomen as he had requested so that I could hide my face from his knowing gaze after such a sentimental admission. Truly, Watson was the only man I trusted to guard my back in this way.
“Let me just fetch a bottle of something I keep to use on my shoulder when it pains me. It should function adequately as oil for a massage.” He ginned in a most mischievous fashion and continued, “And once you are fully recovered I believe we could find other uses for it as well.”
I hid my face in my folded arms again, closing my eyes and giving myself over completely to Watson's care. The bed dipped beneath him as he returned so the first touch of his oiled hands was no surprise, however the scent emanating from his bottle of liniment was. Unlike the medicinal odour that I associated with such a lotion, this one smelled spicy.
“Ginger?” I asked curiously.
“Ginger and passiflora, amongst other things, with a base of olive oil,” he told me smugly. “I have been experimenting with various combinations. When I was in Afghanistan I found that passiflora was often used by the natives in tisanes to relax a person and as a natural aid to sleep, similarly to the way European folk medicine uses valerian. And ginger has certain pain relieving properties. I have been testing different concoctions to see if they can communicate those properties when applied topically rather than consumed. I have not come to any firm conclusions as to whether the benefits are real or simply the result of the massage itself but I have discovered that the ginger gives this particular liniment a pleasant warming feeling.”
As he spoke his strong hands were working the oil into my muscles, kneading the knots and gradually working his way along the length of my spine. I groaned softly, already too relaxed to feel embarrassed at uttering such an abandoned sound.
I felt Watson's lips brush the back of my neck and then his breath against my skin as he exhaled. “You are the most erotic sight I have ever been fortunate enough to see,” he whispered. “But there is something I should like to see even more. Turn over again, Sherlock. It's time for the last part of this massage. When I am finished, you will finally be able to sleep.”
Only Watson could make me feel as relaxed as I ever have in my life and yet simultaneously feel anticipation thrumming through my body at the thought of what he might do next. I rolled onto my back, unashamedly exposing my erect member to his dark eyes. “I am, as always, in your hands, John.”
Stretching sinuously, I watched his breathing catch and was once again astonished that I could have such an effect on a man who has always prided himself on his appreciation of the female form. I had none of the curves or softer features which I knew him to be drawn to and I rarely showed any of the gentler, kinder emotions that he loved and yet from the moment we had been introduced I had only needed a word or gesture to command his complete unswerving attention. It really was a heady feeling, better even than the stimulation I had derived from cocaine.
I was pulled away from my musings when Watson slowly ran his calloused fingers along my pale torso and wrapped them around my straining member. Arching into his practised grip, I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed so that I could better concentrate on the delectable sensations. “John!”
“Shh,” he hushed me. “Just relax and let me take care of you tonight.”
Reaching out I clutched at his broad shoulders with one hand, clinging to him as to a rock in a stormy sea while he slowly brought me to heaven. I gasped once more and then spilt my seed over his fingers and my abdomen before relaxing against the pillows again.
I forced my eyes open just as Watson leant closer and brushed his lips against mine again. I opened my lips and invited his tongue back in, savouring the familiar tickle of his moustache against my upper lip as he kissed me.
He pulled away from me and extracted a clean handkerchief from the drawer, using it to clean me of my emissions before discarding it carelessly. I reached out to try and return the pleasure he had given me only to have my hand batted away.
“Rest, Holmes. I shall take care of myself tonight. You may make restitution once you are recovered and this case is over.”
I wanted to argue but the combination of the soft bed, Watson's comforting presence, and the powerful wave of lethargy which was the natural result of my climax were pulling me into the unforgiving arms of Morpheus and I was helpless to resist. The last thing that I remember is the sensation of movement beside me as he stroked himself and the brush of his knuckles against my thigh and then nothing until the sun creeping between the drapes awoke me.
Previous Next
Characters Holmes/Watson, Lestrade
Fandom Sherlock Holmes
Rating 18
SeriesThe Mysteries of Sherlock Holmes
Summary Based around The Empty House but set in a paranormal/steampunk AU. Sherlock returns to England, followed by an old enemy.
Warnings Vampires, explicit sex
Author's Notes Based on a combination of book and Granada TV canon. With thanks to Gil and Fred for the beta and Lucas and Ginny for unreserved encouragement (is it still 'encouragement when it comes with threats and pointy sticks?).
As I leant into Watson's touch I could feel the nervous energy that had sustained me the past three years beginning to ebb away. I knew I would need that energy until the fiend Moriarty was defeated, but in Watson's warm sitting room, with his comforting weight pressed against me I felt too safe and protected to remain so alert.
Watson must have sensed my growing lethargy as he rose from his seat on the arm of my chair and tucked a blanket around me. “Remain here, Sherlock. I shall go and retrieve our dinner from the kitchen and you can eat it by the fire.” He brushed his fingers lightly through my hair and then left the room.
I knew that it was dangerous to relax too much, however I could not sense Moriarty's presence nearby, so I allowed myself a brief second of repose, closing my eyes and leaning my head back against one of the wings of the chair. I must have been more tired than I thought, as it seemed only a moment later that Watson was shaking me to awaken me from my slumber.
I apologised hastily but he just shook his head and pressed a bowl of some manner of stew, and a spoon, into my hands.
“You have nothing to apologise for, old friend. I should have recognised your fatigue and not have pressed you for so many details; goodness knows I have seen you work yourself into this state often enough in the past. Where were you planning to sleep tonight, Holmes?”
I had not actually considered the issue as my only concern had been whether Watson could bear to forgive me for my betrayal, but it would not do to let him know that. “There are a few places in London where I can acquire a bed for the night without attracting attention,” I told him. “One of the advantages of my profession is a better than average knowledge of the less salubrious neighbourhoods of the city and there are many places where one can acquire a room with no questions being asked provided you have the financial inducement necessary to hand.”
Watson frowned. “Do you truly believe I will let you spend the night in some backstreet inn or worse in your current condition? You will spend the night here if I have to put you to bed myself to be sure of it.” He paused and I smiled sleepily at him, making him frown in irritation. “You knew I would say that and had no intention of leaving, especially as you fear Moriarty may be watching us.”
I chuckled. “Staying here was not my intention when I braved the dragon guarding the gate and forced my way in, but since you seem to bear me no ill will, then yes I will admit, I knew you would not let me leave and in truth I have nowhere particular to go although I could secure myself a room were it to become necessary.”
“You truly are incorrigible, Holmes,” Watson told me, but I could detect a note of affection in his tone so I did not worry overly much about it. “Let me help you to bed, my friend. I do not have a second bedroom here so it seems we have no choice but to share a room. I assume you would have no objection to that?”
“Given the circumstances I believe it is only logical for us to share a bed,” I told him dryly. “It would be churlish to turn my host out of his own bed.”
Laughing, Watson helped me to my feet. “Then let me help you upstairs and put you to bed. You look on the verge of collapse.”
Watson insisted on keeping hold of me as we ascended the stairs to his bedroom. I should like to say that it wasn't necessary, but after three years of constant travelling, the last twelve months of which had allowed me little rest, I fear that without his aid I would have fallen. Once in his bedroom, I looked around curiously. The room was masculine in appearance and it was obvious even at a single glance that Mary had never lived here. Even though the very thought pricked my conscience, I was glad. While Mary and I had shared Watson's affections, we had never done so in the same bed. When he had stayed at the rooms in Baker Street he had been mine and when he had returned home to Mary he had belonged to her.
On the table beside the bed there stood a small clock and two pocket-sized miniatures. I did not need to examine them to know who they would depict.
I was firmly turned around to face Watson and strong, capable hands began to unfasten my collar, deftly removing the studs and depositing it on the table. My jacket was hung carelessly over the back of a chair and then my waistcoat was removed. My shirt and under-shirt both followed before I halted Watson's progress with a gentle hand on his wrist.
“I may be suffering from fatigue, my dear fellow, but I am perfectly capable of finishing the job myself. It seems to me that if you concentrate on my attire at the expense of your own then when you are done you will be a trifle overdressed. I would greatly prefer it if you turned your attention to your own wardrobe so that we may slip into bed together rather than leaving me to warm the chilled linens with my body while you disrobe.”
Watson shook his head, but stepped back. “You do not always have to direct things, Holmes. Occasionally, it would be appreciated if you would allow someone else to be in charge. Besides, have you considered that perhaps I wish to see you disrobed as it is a sight I have greatly missed in the last three years?”
I reached out and tangled my fingers briefly with his, bringing his hand to my lips so that I could brush a gentle kiss across the knuckles. “And you believe I do not feel the same anticipation, my dear John? I too have missed seeing your body, especially when it is spread out on our sheets and you are waiting for me to join you. I have visited museums in every great city on this continent and I have yet to see a work of art that has captured even half the beauty I see in your form.”
For a moment Watson seemed bereft of words and were I a more romantic soul I would swear that his eyes glistened more brightly than simple candlelight could explain.
“Sherlock ...” He swallowed and pulled his hand from my grip. “Then I shall disrobe with all alacrity, but I expect you to do the same. I wish to feel your body against mine and to know that you are truly alive and here with me after all this time.”
After that there was silence, broken only by the rustling of clothing as we both lost no time in removing all the impediments that had so far prevented us from feeling the other's flesh against our own. As I had predicted I was the first to be fully bare and I shivered as I slid between the cool sheets to await Watson's presence.
When he was finally stripped bare Watson lifted the covers and climbed into the bed next to me. We were close enough that I could feel his body heat and it warmed me in more ways than just the physical. Reaching up I tugged his head down too mine and gently covered his lips with my own, sharing a chaste kiss even as our bodies finally entwined themselves around one another.
Pulling back slowly, his reluctance etched in every line of his body, Watson gently caressed my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You are too pale, even by your standards, Sherlock. Your skin is practically translucent in the lamplight. Once this case is over and Moriarty has gone to his eternal rest, I am going to take you away somewhere for a week. I believe we should head for the seaside, perhaps rent a cottage with a small laboratory, and you can spend the week perfecting your alchemical studies during the day and studying something far more … practical at night.”
I chuckled at Watson's little joke. “Anatomy, perchance? I was not aware my skills had become so stagnant but perhaps a refresher course would be in line. I confess that the idea of a week spent in isolation is not an unpalatable one, John. Especially as once we are done with this case my presence will no doubt become public knowledge.” I wrinkled my nose at the thought of all the people who might wish to call on us and assure themselves that I truly was alive. Other than Mrs Hudson and Inspector Lestrade I could not think of a single one of them I wished to waste a moment on.
“It just so happens, my dear friend, that I know someone who would be delighted to assist you with your anatomical study.” He pulled the covers to one side, exposing my body to the cool air. “But for now, I think I would like you to simply lie there and rest. You are exhausted. Let me try to relax you enough that you can sleep.”
I propped myself up on one elbow. “That would seem to be doing you a disservice, John. You deserve more than to have to care for me yet again.” After all the grief I had caused him it should be me lavishing attention on him, not the reverse.
He kissed me again and I opened my mouth, inviting his tongue to dance with mine for a moment. “No, Sherlock, not this time. I give you my oath that once this case is concluded you may do whatever you wish to me, but for now let me pamper you. Conserve your energy for the confrontation that is surely to come.”
Kissing him once more as words were not adequate to express my gratitude for his forgiveness and compassion towards me, I did as he instructed and stretched out on the sheets, wriggling sensuously when I realised he was observing my every move. I may tease him about seeing but not observing in his daily life but whenever I have shared a bed with him I have never found Watson to be anything but observant. He is the most attentive lover I have ever shared my body with and I could feel the familiar excitement starting to flow through my veins as he watched me.
Nodding in approval of my acquiescence he reached out and ran his fingers tenderly over my torso, feeling the muscles twitch under his hands. He frowned slightly and rested his palm on my chest, feeling my heart beating under his hand. “Turn over, Holmes. I'm going to rub your back before I try anything else. You feel as if you are strung tighter than your violin.”
“Three years of being unable to relax will do that to a man, my dear Doctor. But now that I have returned home I must admit the tension is starting to ebb. I no longer feel as if I must be alert even in my sleep with you here.” I rolled onto my abdomen as he had requested so that I could hide my face from his knowing gaze after such a sentimental admission. Truly, Watson was the only man I trusted to guard my back in this way.
“Let me just fetch a bottle of something I keep to use on my shoulder when it pains me. It should function adequately as oil for a massage.” He ginned in a most mischievous fashion and continued, “And once you are fully recovered I believe we could find other uses for it as well.”
I hid my face in my folded arms again, closing my eyes and giving myself over completely to Watson's care. The bed dipped beneath him as he returned so the first touch of his oiled hands was no surprise, however the scent emanating from his bottle of liniment was. Unlike the medicinal odour that I associated with such a lotion, this one smelled spicy.
“Ginger?” I asked curiously.
“Ginger and passiflora, amongst other things, with a base of olive oil,” he told me smugly. “I have been experimenting with various combinations. When I was in Afghanistan I found that passiflora was often used by the natives in tisanes to relax a person and as a natural aid to sleep, similarly to the way European folk medicine uses valerian. And ginger has certain pain relieving properties. I have been testing different concoctions to see if they can communicate those properties when applied topically rather than consumed. I have not come to any firm conclusions as to whether the benefits are real or simply the result of the massage itself but I have discovered that the ginger gives this particular liniment a pleasant warming feeling.”
As he spoke his strong hands were working the oil into my muscles, kneading the knots and gradually working his way along the length of my spine. I groaned softly, already too relaxed to feel embarrassed at uttering such an abandoned sound.
I felt Watson's lips brush the back of my neck and then his breath against my skin as he exhaled. “You are the most erotic sight I have ever been fortunate enough to see,” he whispered. “But there is something I should like to see even more. Turn over again, Sherlock. It's time for the last part of this massage. When I am finished, you will finally be able to sleep.”
Only Watson could make me feel as relaxed as I ever have in my life and yet simultaneously feel anticipation thrumming through my body at the thought of what he might do next. I rolled onto my back, unashamedly exposing my erect member to his dark eyes. “I am, as always, in your hands, John.”
Stretching sinuously, I watched his breathing catch and was once again astonished that I could have such an effect on a man who has always prided himself on his appreciation of the female form. I had none of the curves or softer features which I knew him to be drawn to and I rarely showed any of the gentler, kinder emotions that he loved and yet from the moment we had been introduced I had only needed a word or gesture to command his complete unswerving attention. It really was a heady feeling, better even than the stimulation I had derived from cocaine.
I was pulled away from my musings when Watson slowly ran his calloused fingers along my pale torso and wrapped them around my straining member. Arching into his practised grip, I moaned, my eyes fluttering closed so that I could better concentrate on the delectable sensations. “John!”
“Shh,” he hushed me. “Just relax and let me take care of you tonight.”
Reaching out I clutched at his broad shoulders with one hand, clinging to him as to a rock in a stormy sea while he slowly brought me to heaven. I gasped once more and then spilt my seed over his fingers and my abdomen before relaxing against the pillows again.
I forced my eyes open just as Watson leant closer and brushed his lips against mine again. I opened my lips and invited his tongue back in, savouring the familiar tickle of his moustache against my upper lip as he kissed me.
He pulled away from me and extracted a clean handkerchief from the drawer, using it to clean me of my emissions before discarding it carelessly. I reached out to try and return the pleasure he had given me only to have my hand batted away.
“Rest, Holmes. I shall take care of myself tonight. You may make restitution once you are recovered and this case is over.”
I wanted to argue but the combination of the soft bed, Watson's comforting presence, and the powerful wave of lethargy which was the natural result of my climax were pulling me into the unforgiving arms of Morpheus and I was helpless to resist. The last thing that I remember is the sensation of movement beside me as he stroked himself and the brush of his knuckles against my thigh and then nothing until the sun creeping between the drapes awoke me.
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