Private Life, part 6

Hey, it's more of my Private Life fic. This time we have some sexy romantic fluff to make up for the previous angst. I'm describing Watson and Holmes as they appeared in the movie, so that's why I speak of Watson's dark wavy hair. Holmes said that Watson called him six foot four in the stories, when in reality he is "barely six foot one." So that's what he means when he says he's shorter than expected; he is not shorter than Watson.

Also I went back and added some notes on the Russian words in
Part 1. I put in one Russian word here, in the Romanized spelling from the DVD, but the Cyrillic version is проказник. I decided to make the Upside-Down Room Case two weeks ago, because I love throwing around the word "fortnight", and I revised the earlier chapter to reflect that.

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A Love Story Between Two Men, part 6

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Story: movie-verse, The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Warnings: slash, R

After Mrs. Hudson left them alone, Holmes ventured a question. "You do want to go on our honeymoon, Watson? You won't be... uncomfortable to be near me?"

Watson said, "I may still be angry at you sometimes, but I will try to enjoy the holiday and not spoil things."

"Thank you." Holmes took his hand and asked almost shyly, "Will you permit me to share your bed?"

Watson blinked in surprise. "Share my bed?"

"Yes, I-I do not want to be presumptuous about how soon you will forgive me."

"Oh." Watson understood him now. "Of course I want you in my bed, Holmes. It would hardly be a honeymoon if we weren't intimate. I only wish to wait until I have destroyed your syringe first."

"Oh!" Holmes was relieved, having feared that he would have to spend the whole of their honeymoon trying to win his way back into Watson's bed. "Yes of course. As you wish, Watson. Shall I fetch it now?"

"No, no, eat first. But I shall certainly do it before we leave."

"Good." Holmes sat down again and smiled. He began imagining all the naughty things they would do very soon. They would learn how to have sex in every way possible, and get plenty of practice at it.

Watson said, "At first I thought you were asking if we could share a hotel room, but I think we shall have to be discreet."

"But why, Watson? We have shared hotel rooms before, albeit with two separate beds." Much to his continual disappointment and frustration. "In any case, the laws on the Continent are more permissive regarding sodomy."

Watson nodded, "Yes, but with no case to investigate, and our new marriage, I fear that we shall look too obviously queer, Holmes. Rumours may start about us that would follow us back to London. As you reminded Rogozhin this morning, we do need to keep our reputations intact."

"Well, that is easily solved, Watson. We'll travel using aliases, and I shall not wear that silly inverness and deerstalker that everyone expects. No one shall recognise us then, especially given my shorter height."

Watson considered that. "Oh, I suppose that would work, Holmes!" He laughed. "Now aren't you glad that I embellish my stories?"

Holmes grinned. "So you do admit to embellishing your accounts?"

"Oh!" Watson threw a napkin at him.

They had a very pleasant lunch, discussing further details of their trip. Holmes said that they should stop in Paris on the way to Venice. "Possibly Milan too, since they have an excellent opera house."

"Oh, La Scala where Irene Adler used to sing?"

"Yes, before her unfortunate affair with the King of Bohemia. I believe she has remained retired, though, since her marriage to Mr. Norton."

"Yes, but I'm sure La Scala won't disappoint, even without her contralto. Oh, Holmes, this all sounds so very romantic."

"As it should be, my dear. I told you, I will give you a proper honeymoon in every way."

Watson chuckled. "Although I don't think you'll be wearing a wedding gown."

"No," he laughed. Then he smiled seductively. "I don't intend to be wearing much of anything at all."

Watson blushed, but stopped himself from kissing Holmes. He needed his self control.

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After they ate, Holmes consulted the railway schedules, while Watson went to their bedrooms to pack.

He entered Holmes's room first and removed the morocco case from the drawer of Holmes's vanity. Watson examined the syringe closely in the light, to make sure that it had been unused for the past fortnight. He was glad that Holmes was indeed telling the truth.

Watson thought of destroying the syringe immediately in Holmes's fireplace, but that would be yet another glass object smashed in the house. Mrs. Hudson would become curious about this pattern of destruction. So he put the syringe back inside the morocco case and he pocketed it, planning to go out and destroy it somewhere else.

Then he pulled out some suitcases and began packing for Holmes, beginning with the tuxedo and its related accessories. He put Holmes's silk hat in a hat box, then packed some travelling clothes, the bare minimum of underwear, and a few toiletries. Next, Watson grabbed all the suitcases and went into his bedroom to pack for himself.

When he finished, he returned to the sitting-room, where Holmes was telling Mrs. Hudson how long they would be gone.

"We'll leave tonight on the boat train."

"Oh, wonderful!"

Watson said, "We're all packed now."

"So soon?" she asked. "Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

"Quite sure," he said. "Our bags are in my room now. Mrs. Hudson, would you mind bringing them downstairs, and sending someone to take them down to the station for us?"

"Oh, certainly, doctor." She went into Watson's room.

Holmes glanced at Watson and guessed that this was Watson's precaution against Holmes tampering with the bags. His trust was not yet fully restored.

Watson went to grab Holmes's old violin and bow. "This one's not the Stradivarius, right?" he asked to make sure.

"No, the Strad's over there," Holmes pointed out where he had placed it.

"Good." Watson put the less valuable violin away, then closed and locked the case. "I'm going out to sell it at the pawnbroker's and," he whispered and gestured to his pocket, "to destroy your syringe."

"Oh." Holmes nodded to show that he didn't object. "Very well, Watson."

"I'll be back soon." Watson kissed him before going.

"I'll be waiting." He sighed and watched Watson leave.

Mrs. Hudson came out with some of the bags. "Where's Dr. Watson gone?"

"To sell my old violin for me. I have this now."

"Oh. But he'll be back in time for me to wish you a good trip?"

"Yes."

"Good." She added, "And I hope you two don't fight anymore."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. So do I."

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Watson went to the pawnbroker's first, and sold Holmes's old violin. Then he went to the bank thinking to exchange some money for francs, but while there, he got another idea. He decided to lock up Holmes's syringe in his tin-dispatch box. Originally Watson had planned to take it to Bart's and destroy it in one of the laboratories, where the broken glass could be safely disposed of in the rubbish; however, it was not so long ago that he had to smuggle a corpse out of the morgue, and that made Watson too ashamed to show his face around there yet. So for now, Watson deposited the morocco case into his box at the bank; he could deal with it later, probably after they returned to England.

Once done, Watson felt quite secure and happy, for Holmes would never think to look for his syringe at the bank. Not that he couldn't go out and buy a new syringe if he truly desired to break his marriage vows. However, Watson believed that Holmes had learned his lesson enough that he would confess his cocaine craving first, and not go behind his back. Besides, so long as they remained lovers, Watson would be able to examine Holmes head to toe daily, and be sure that he was not being deceived.

So Watson returned home, and Holmes rushed downstairs to greet him at the door. He did not even inquire how much money Watson had got for the violin, or ask to have his morocco case back. He just embraced Watson as soon as he locked the street door. "My darling," he said. "We still have three hours before our trip. Could we start on our honeymoon early?"

Watson could not wait any longer either, and he growled, "Yes." With a kiss, they hurried upstairs to "christen" Watson's bed with their lovemaking.

As soon as they were naked, Watson sat exploring all over the detective's body.

Holmes knew that he was being examined thoroughly, and he submitted willingly. He said, "You may regularly inspect my violin case at all times too. Any drawer of mine, any place you'd like to search."

Watson frowned. "I feel as if I am your prison warden."

"But I deserve it, my dear, for hurting you so." Holmes solemnly took his hand and kissed it. "And I shall not go rummaging in your black bag again. I shall steal nothing from you, nor buy anything from the chemist's that I do not need for my experiments."

Watson was touched, and he truly hoped that Holmes would keep these promises. "Thank you."

"No, thank you, Watson, for not divorcing me." Holmes pulled him closer and kissed his wounded shoulder, grateful that he was not denied this pleasure again.

Watson sighed and moved Holmes's fingers along the scar. It was so erotic, and Holmes's other hand slid up to Watson's hair. The doctor's dark wavy hair was normally so neat, and Holmes enjoyed disordering it.

Watson mussed Holmes's brown hair as well, finding that he did not miss a woman's longer locks at all. Holmes was quite beautiful in his own way. Watson moved down his neck and was not even bothered by the masculine Adam's apple. His hands roamed Holmes's chest, brushing the hair there as well as his nipples.

Holmes reacted with a moan, and Watson was pleased that not all of his prior skills in lovemaking were going to waste. He moved down to kiss and lick the nipples as well, making them harden.

"Oh God," Holmes said, clutching him tightly. "You devil! You prokyzhnik," he repeated the Russian word that Watson had asked Rogozhin to translate for him. Holmes was very glad that Watson belonged to him now, and had not been seduced by one of the several Russians who had apparently been leering at him at the theatre.

Watson chuckled and let his right hand slide down to cup Holmes's backside. There was a reason after all that he had complimented the ballerinas on their bottoms and not on their bosoms. He very much enjoyed feeling those round, firm muscles, and he felt naughty to grab Holmes in this way.

"Watson," Holmes murmured breathlessly, "have you--have you packed my vaseline already?"

"Hmm?"

"Or any other form of lubricant?"

Watson blinked in surprise. "You mean, you would let me--?"

Holmes nodded. "Maybe we can borrow some oil from Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. Would you go ask her?"

"Holmes!" He was embarrassed at the thought of asking her such a thing.

"If you won't, I will." He started to get up, seeing that Watson had left his dressing-gown hanging on the door.

Watson stopped him, though. "Wait. I-I have some massage oil... that I use for my wound."

Holmes grinned and kissed him. "That'll do."

Watson did not reach for the oil in his night-stand, though, and he asked hesitantly, "You're sure about this, Holmes? You've never been buggered before."

"I know. But after all, you have more experience in these carnal matters, and I am sure you will take great care to be gentle."

"I will," he promised. He retrieved the oil while Holmes lay back and spread his legs.

Watson could hardly believe this was happening. After all, Holmes was usually so masculine and in control. Why should he take such a passive position?

Then Watson paused and frowned. He feared that Holmes had made this offer only in apology, as part of making amends for his cocaine deception. "Holmes, you--you don't have to do this for me. Just to please me."

"Why shouldn't I please you?" he said with a smile, ruffling his moustache now.

Watson pulled back and shook his head. "I don't need this. Not out of obligation."

"Obligation?" Then Holmes understood the way Watson was brushing his arm. "Oh no, Watson! That's not why I want to."

"Really?"

"Really." Holmes kissed his monogrammed ring. "Look at you, Watson. You had the whole Imperial Russian Ballet wanting you--"

"Not everyone!" he insisted, blushing.

"Near enough, and most of them did not even speak English." He kissed him lovingly. "What man in his right mind would not want you, if he was lucky enough to have you?"

"But in this particular way?"

"Yes, my love. In all ways. I desire all the things I have been denied for five long years." He whispered, "This morning, I did not have enough skill with my mouth, but I want to feel you inside me."

That sent a shiver through Watson, and he kissed his mouth hungrily.

Holmes happily took hold of his arousal, teasing it with anticipation.

Watson moaned and asked, "You'll let me know if I hurt you at all?"

"Yes, dear. Now come on." He reached for the bottle and opened it.

Watson did his best to prepare Holmes and be gentle, but they were still awkward for this first attempt at buggery. Holmes wished to do it face to face but discovered that he was not flexible enough for such a position yet. "Another time," Watson said.

So Holmes turned over but still wanted to be able to see Watson. He asked if he could have Watson's shaving mirror to watch. That made Watson nervous and self-conscious of his actions, and at Holmes's first sign of discomfort, Watson wanted to abandon the whole attempt for now. "Another time," he repeated.

"Watson!" He was quite disappointed.

"It will be more special during our honeymoon. At some grand hotel."

"In a honeymoon suite?"

"Yes."

"Very well." He added with a smile, "We may even check the local bookshops for the sort of pornography that might help us."

"You prokyzhnik," Watson said in return.

They chuckled and kissed wickedly. Holmes did enjoy being face to face again, and so they returned to stroking and tasting each other as before. They made use of the massage oil rather shamelessly until they were covered in other delightful substances.

"Clearly we need a bath," Holmes said, getting out of bed. He put on Watson's dressing-gown and went out the door, calling down to Mrs. Hudson for the hip bath and some hot water. From his room, Watson protested that the hip bath wasn't large enough for both of them.

Holmes considered that. "Then we shall have to take turns I suppose. Although, we should get a large one soon."

"Perhaps even with running water?" Watson suggested.

"Indeed." Holmes hurried downstairs to discuss the matter with Mrs. Hudson. Perhaps she could have such plumbing installed in the house while they were gone on their honeymoon? If she couldn't do it in two weeks, then they could merely take a longer, month-long holiday. A true honeymoon. Holmes was looking forward to this.

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Continue to Part 7