Private Life, part 7

Okay, here's another chapter of the Private Life "Love Story" fic. We begin with the same hip bath that was seen in the movie. It appears that they don't have any running water in the house.

Mrs. Hudson really should have servants, you know, to do heavy lifting jobs. Yet none are seen in the movie. Maybe they got rid of any servants because they installed the dumb-waiter, and she didn't need any help now? I don't know. More reason to update their plumbing, huh?

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A Love Story Between Two Men, part 7

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

Holmes and Watson took turns washing each other sensually in the hip bath, and Holmes confessed that he had wanted Watson to touch him this way yesterday morning while he bathed.

But Watson only recalled Holmes being in a bad temper, arguing with him about attending the ballet. "Really, Holmes?"

He nodded. "Why do you think I left the door open? And positioned the bath directly in your view from the breakfast table? I was hoping against hope that you might be concerned enough about my health lately that you would try to assist me, or at least examine my bare arm again."

Watson ran his fingers down Holmes's left arm, with the old needle-marks. "And then what? You'd pull me into a wet kiss?"

Holmes shivered and murmured softly, "If you'd permit me..."

"Oh, Holmes." He kissed him and put his arms around his spouse, even though it was getting his chest all wet again.

Holmes enjoyed the embrace, and he attempted to slide off the towel that Watson was wearing as well. "Why do you think I agreed to go to the ballet with you? I thought if I gave in, and made you happy, then after the ballet, you might make me happy as well."

Watson smiled. "Why, you romantic." He dropped his towel now, deciding that he had had enough time to recover since their lovemaking on the bed. After all, it took time for Mrs. Hudson to heat up all that water and for Holmes to bring it upstairs to fill the tub.

Holmes reached for him with a soapy hand, and began to stroke him between more wet kisses.

"Oh! Wait." Watson drew back and glanced at his hand. The ring on Holmes's pinky had come loose due to the soap and all the rubbing, and had slipped over his knuckle already. "Here, put it on your other hand for now." He put it onto Holmes's left ring finger this time.

The significance was not lost on Holmes, who met his eyes, then moved Watson's ring to his left hand as well. Then they kissed fiercely.

Watson reciprocally reached in between Holmes's legs, and Holmes moaned into his mouth. So they made love, splashing the water somewhat but taking care not to knock over the tub. Given their earlier orgasms, they climaxed quite soon and with not as big a mess. With fond smiles, they sighed and lazily leaned against each other.

Watson caught his breath first and said, touching Holmes's ring finger, "Just for our honeymoon, we should leave them so."

Holmes nodded and kissed Watson's shoulder.

He wanted to linger in the bath longer, but soon the water became too cold for further fun. Besides, they needed to get dressed for their honeymoon. So they cleaned off again, and Holmes got out of the tub. Putting on a towel, he kissed Watson, before going to his own bedroom to finish drying and dressing.

Holmes dressed in his normal clothes, glad to leave the silly deerstalker and inverness behind for once. He brushed his still damp hair, then returned to the other bedroom.

Watson was dressed and taking the stained sheets off the bed. He asked Holmes to bring the towel back, so that he could hang it up to dry with the other wet one. "Mustn't leave such a mess for Mrs. Hudson."

Holmes grinned. "I think she won't mind. When I talked to her about the plumbing and all, she was quite pleased to see me wearing your dressing-gown."

"She wasn't embarrassed?"

"No. She took it as proof that you and I had properly made up, and she only reminded us to lock the door again. In fact she wink-winked at me about our having a bath installed."

"I see. She is amazingly shock-proof, I guess."

"Indeed. We are quite fortunate to have such an understanding landlady."

Watson suggested, "Perhaps we should bring her back a special present from our honeymoon. What kind of souvenir do you think she'd like?"

"I don't know. A new deck of cards, after you wrinkled up her seven of diamonds?"

"Oh, Holmes don't be so cheap. And knowing you, you'd try to buy her a pornographic deck to shock her."

He laughed. "Oh, Watson! How could I? She is, as you say, shock-proof."

Watson playfully swatted at him, then Holmes retrieved the towel and hung it up to dry as well. Watson sat down at his dressing-table to style his hair again.

Holmes stood nearby to watch him adoringly.

Once Watson finished with his hair, he reached for his moustache comb and realised that he had already packed it. "Drat! It's with the bags at the station already."

"And yet you did not pack your hair brush or mine."

"No, I guess I forgot them, while I was grabbing our shaving kits." He frowned into his mirror, dissatisfied with the untidiness of his moustache.

"Oh, leave it," Holmes said. "It can be part of your disguise as James Wilson."

Watson laughed and shrugged. "Very well."

Holmes might have been more creative about their aliases on this trip, but he had to match the initials they already had on their luggage. So Holmes would be Simon Hatch for the next month on the Continent.

Watson stood up, and said he would pack their brushes now. "I think I have an extra bag left around here."

Holmes pointed out, "You haven't packed your massage oil either, or your dressing-gown."

"Oh right." He retrieved an old satchel from his army days. "Holmes, maybe we can pack your vaseline instead of my oil. There's too much chance of the bottle breaking and spilling."

"Certainly."

So they packed these last few items and searched for anything else that Watson had missed. "Watson, you've left my dressing-gown here too."

"No," Watson corrected him. "That was deliberate." Holmes's brown dressing-gown was not particularly sexy anyway. "At the hotel, you are not going to be wearing much of anything at all."

"Oh." Holmes nearly pounced on him for another kiss, but Watson pulled away, not wanting to have his hair disordered again.

As they moved into the sitting-room, Holmes spotted the opera glasses that Watson had left on his laboratory table. "Here, Watson. You won't enjoy the ballet without this."

"Oh thank you, Holmes." He checked that they were not damaged from being thrown, then stuffed it into the bag, in the pocket of his dressing-gown. "I think that's it. Let me go ask Mrs. Hudson what she'd like for a souvenir." He handed the satchel to Holmes, then went downstairs.

Holmes stood holding the satchel, pleased that Watson trusted him now, and did not fear him tampering with the contents. Watson's black medical bag was sitting right there on the shelf, full of drugs and supplies for his patients. Holmes looked down at the ring on his hand again, and he felt quite lucky.

Watson soon returned, and he told Holmes, "Mrs. Hudson would like a beautiful painting of Venice to hang in her rooms downstairs. About this big." He showed the size with his hands.

"Oh, we shall have to mail it back ahead of us."

"Indeed. She also noticed that my ring had moved."

"Oh really?" The landlady was quite perceptive.

"Yes, and she said I should fatten you up on this trip, to make sure that the ring stays on your hand."

"But then we won't be able to move it again, and Lestrade will surely notice."

"Oh, I think we can loosen it with some soap."

They chuckled naughtily, and Watson kissed his nose briefly before becoming businesslike again.

"Come on, let's go to the boat-train now. We can get settled with our other bags at the station."

"All right, Watson."

So they went downstairs and told Mrs. Hudson they were leaving now.

She hugged them both and gave them the luggage ticket that the messenger had brought back from the station. Then she wished them a good trip.

Watson asked, "You don't mind about our leaving the mess upstairs?"

"No, I'll pay the servants from next door to help me out." She lowered her voice discreetly, "But I'll take care of your sheets first, myself."

"Thank you."

They said goodbye, then went out the door. She stood on the doorstep while they hailed a cab, and then she waved to them as they rode away.

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Continue to Part 8