Private Life, part 8

Here's a new chapter of my Private Life fic, where Holmes and Watson officially begin their honeymoon trip. On the train they also discuss some of Holmes's history with women. In the movie, Holmes tells the story about his fiancée, the daughter of his violin teacher, and about "the most affectionate woman I ever knew," but on the DVD, the deleted scenes have a contradictory backstory. In the "Dumbfounded Detective" flashback, Holmes speaks of the daughter of his tobacconist instead, and confesses that he fell in love with a girl while at Oxford, only to discover that she was a prostitute. I've chosen to go with the first backstory, and I have named the women Violet and Ada. (In the movie, Holmes also lists several more affairs with kleptomaniacs, pyromaniacs, etc. but I'm choosing to think he was being sarcastic with Gabrielle at that point.)

Plus I made a map of the approximate route of Holmes and Watson's honeymoon. (It's from a modern map, so the political boundaries may not be historically accurate for 1887, not that the movie itself is historically accurate.) More on the map below.

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A Love Story Between Two Men, part 8

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Story: movie-verse, The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Warnings: slash, rated NC-17

At the station, Holmes and Watson retrieved all their luggage, then they boarded the boat-train. They took the ferry from Newhaven to Dieppe, and using their aliases, they caught the train to Paris. Holmes locked the door of their private carriage, then turned to Watson with a smile. "Happy honeymoon, Mr. Wilson."

"Thank you, Mr. Hatch," Watson replied as Holmes joined him on the seat.

They embraced and kissed happily. Holmes was tempted to do more, but after all, they had already made love a few times today and needed to have enough stamina for tonight in the Paris hotel. So instead Holmes just leaned against him and entwined their hands.

Looking at their rings, Watson sighed and asked curiously, "Holmes, tell me more about Violet."

Holmes looked up. "Why?"

"She was your fiancée. Did you plan a honeymoon with her?"

Holmes replied, "No. We were going to marry, then move straight to London so that I could attend the Royal Academy of Music."

"I didn't know you studied there, Holmes."

"I didn't, Watson. As I told you, she died on the eve of the wedding, and that quickly scrapped my plans for London."

"Oh." He realised that Holmes had to grieve and attend the funeral, of course. Watson frowned and wondered if he had hit a sore spot, reminding Holmes of the tragedy. "Forgive me. Have I upset you by asking about her?"

"No, it was ages ago." Holmes shrugged it off. "As I told you, it was an immature love at best. We were mere childish sweethearts, encouraged by our love of music."

"But at the time--"

"Well at the time, I was rather frustrated and disappointed about it, indeed. Still, her death never drove me to drink--" he paused significantly, "or drugs. If anything, it brought about my later affair with Ada. When she seduced me, Ada said that I had been unfairly denied a wife, and she had been denied a loving husband. Why not console each other?"

"The brazen hussy!"

Holmes chuckled. "Yet her brazenness won me over, Watson, as did the appalling personality of her husband. During our affair, I thought we always sneaked around in my lab just to keep him from finding us out. What a cunning murderess she was."

Watson remained appalled. "But this was not right after Violet?"

"Oh, no, no. It was nearly two years later. I spent a considerable time being bitter and unable to play the violin."

"Oh Holmes!" Watson looked on him with pity and patted Holmes's arm.

"Do not sigh for me, Watson. After all, I did regain my ability to play eventually, and in the mean time I took up boxing. The better to destroy my hands, I suppose. I only mention it to explain why I never reapplied to the Academy. I abandoned my plans of becoming a violinist, and that is why my skills have languished until now I am no better than a second-rate music hall player."

"Holmes! You play beautifully for me."

He waved dismissively, knowing that his hands were ruined for a professional career. "Anyway, I could not just keep boxing forever, and Mycroft convinced me to apply at his alma mater, so that I could pursue a serious career. There I met Victor Trevor, as you know, and his father's death soon led me to abandon university as well."

Watson squeezed his hand. "First you lost your fiancée, then your only friend left for Terai. It must have been quite awful for you."

Holmes shook his head. "It was actually rather invigorating. I was inspired by that first case, Watson! But when Mycroft heard of my plans to become a detective, he called it a 'foolish and childish scheme,' and he harangued me to go back to university. I told him that I had no interest in becoming a humble government clerk like him."

"Ah, is that where the rift began?" It explained so much.

"Oh there were petty things before. Sibling rivalry and all that. Anyway, Mycroft's disapproval made me more determined to rise to the challenge and prove him wrong. So I moved to London after all and efficiently acquired all the skills that I needed. It gave me a new lease on life."

"Well, I'm glad that you were so resilient. But that's when you met Ada, wasn't it? While you were doing chemical researches?"

"Yes, and I swore off romantic entanglements after her, since it had clearly clouded my judgement. But then I met you, Watson, and I soon learned what true love was."

"Oh, Holmes." Watson kissed him then and pulled him closer.

"My dear John," Holmes said, mussing his hair again.

Watson decided not to protest the caress, but he asked, "Why can't I call you Sherlock? Surely you didn't make Violet and Ada call you Holmes?"

"No, but after all, they were only women. Lesser."

That bewildered Watson. "So? It actually makes me feel less equal to them, to be denied such familiarity."

"No, I don't mean--"

"I know it's because of your brother, Holmes, but why let him spoil your own name? Didn't you ever like it before? Didn't your parents call you Sherlock as well? Did they make you unhappy too?"

"No. My mother was kindly and took after my French grandmother in her artistic nature; she was disappointed that I had not become a violinist, but was happy to see me recover from Violet's death. My father did not object to my leaving university either. In fact, he paid for my London rooms and lab while I was still acquiring my detective skills. I was glad that he lived to see my first few successes in my career, but it's unfortunate that he never met you before he died. He would have liked you."

Watson was flattered. "Would you have really introduced me? You withheld Mycroft's existence from me for five years."

"Because of Mycroft's flaws. Not yours."

"Then forget about Mycroft's disapproval."

Holmes considered it. "Well, it would please me to think of how much Mycroft would disapprove of our marriage." So he agreed to let Watson call him Sherlock, but only when they were intimate in bed. "And whisper it, since we must keep our aliases for now. You might also try calling me darling or dear instead."

Watson smiled. "Well, perhaps." So they had reached a compromise, and they sealed it with another kiss. "My dear."

Since Watson so enjoyed learning secrets from him, Holmes told him more stories about his childhood.

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When they arrived in Paris, Watson hurriedly brushed his hair again and they gathered their luggage. They rode into the city in a carriage and glimpsed sight of the large iron tower in the midst of construction.

"What is that?" Watson asked.

"It is the Tour Eiffel being built for the Exposition in two years."

"Oh, yes. To mark the centennial of the French Revolution. It doesn't look very impressive now."

"Well, give it time. M. Eiffel also helped design the Statue of Liberty for America, and that didn't turn out too bad."

"I suppose so."

Holmes smiled. "Perhaps we'll return in two years on a second honeymoon to see the finished product."

Watson smiled back, then admired all the other architecture in town that looked far more grand than the Tower at present.

Soon they checked into the hotel as Simon Hatch and James Wilson. Watson was impressed by the lavish rooms, and Holmes ordered champagne and a late supper for them. As they waited for it to arrive, Holmes showed Watson the adjoining bathroom with running water. "All the modern amenities, my dear."

Watson laughed and decided to unpack his toiletries on the shelf by the sink, though he slipped the vaseline into his pocket.

Holmes undressed to his shirtsleeves and put on slippers, but had no dressing-gown to lounge in. "Shall I be borrowing yours, then?"

"No, I think you look rather fetching in just your night-shirt."

"Oh really?"

"Or nothing."

Holmes actually blushed slightly and shrugged. "Well I can change into neither while we await room service."

Their romantic supper arrived, and after locking the door, Holmes lit the candles. Then he opened the champagne and they made a toast to their new marriage.

They kissed and ate playfully, sometimes feeding each other as they sat quite close together. Their fingers also strayed into each other's clothing.

At last Holmes could not wait anymore, and he rose from the table. "Come here, Mr. Wilson." He blew out the candles and led the way to bed.

Watson smiled and whispered, "Are you ready for your wedding night, Mr. Hatch?"

"Oh yes. Yes indeed."

So Watson pressed him down on the bed and covered him in kisses. They undressed slowly and sensuously, enjoying the luxurious bed and the soft sheets in contrast to their narrow beds in Baker Street. Once they were naked, Watson said, "You look so lovely, Sherlock."

"As do you, John. You are so perfect." They touched each other hungrily, but Holmes felt that he was being teased too long. "Shall you bugger me, as you promised before?"

Watson shivered with desire. He nodded and wordlessly went to retrieve the vaseline from the pocket of his discarded coat.

Holmes agreed not to ask for a mirror this time, and he lay face down against the pillows, waiting eagerly.

Watson settled between his long legs and began to prepare him gently from behind.

Holmes felt some discomfort with each intrusion of a finger, but he urged Watson on, and moaned softly.

Watson became more and more aroused, especially once he found Holmes's prostate, and all the delights that it could provide. Soon Holmes was begging for him wantonly.

Withdrawing his fingers, Watson hurried to slick himself properly, then got into position. He entered carefully and heard Holmes involuntarily gasp. This was after all his first time doing this, and Watson had to pause to let him breathe. "You're all right?"

"Yes, just--" Holmes worried that his erection had faded. It did not make sense to him, since he wanted Watson so very much.

"Relax, my dear." He stroked and kissed Holmes's back several times to soothe him.

Holmes felt better, and Watson could now slip deeper inside him.

Soon Watson buried himself completely within, and he could hardly believe that he was really doing this, deflowering his beautiful lover. His spouse. What a privilege it was. He reached for Holmes's hand and kissed the ring there.

Holmes's arousal returned, and he clutched the sheets when Watson started to move. He groaned with each thrust, and Watson kissed his shoulder again. He found the right angle, and moved in a pleasurable rhythm.

Then Watson raised him higher and began to stroke Holmes, who cried out and closed his eyes. How wonderfully joined they were, rocking the bed together. The only thing that could have made it better would be if he could watch Watson and kiss him. He wanted to declare his love, but was too incoherent to speak. At last they cried out in ecstasy and collapsed limply on the bed. They wearily caught their breaths in the darkness.

Watson turned Holmes around, and they kissed lazily.

"My darling John. I love you."

"I love you too, Sherlock."

"What a perfect wedding night." He smiled. "You were right. It was more special here. Certainly I should not have liked Mrs. Hudson to overhear all that."

"Holmes!"

They laughed and tangled their naked bodies under the covers.

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Continue to Part 9.

More on the Map

I'm not quite sure of the route within France, or whether the Rhine river is navigable by boat the entire way from Switzerland, so if that's not right, just assume that they took the nearest equivalent route by train. There are many German cities along the Rhine river, but I didn't have the patience to pick out particular ones for them to stop in, so you can assume they visited whichever cities you'd like them to visit. Of the major cities, I have only really researched Venice for this story.

Basically Holmes and Watson travel through France, enter the western side of Switzerland, and cross the Alps into Italy. On their return trip, they re-cross the Alps on the eastern side of Switzerland, then come back on the Rhine river through Germany and the Netherlands. Thus they bypass Belgium. In case you were wondering, Meiringen and the Reichenbach Falls are in central Switzerland. Newhaven, Dieppe, and Strasbourg were all mentioned in FINA as well, but I'm assuming that FINA hasn't taken place yet in this movie-verse. Preferably, it never will take place, unless it ends with Holmes not faking his death.

Holmes's Stradivarius violin was apparently made in Cremona, Italy, in 1709, so I thought Holmes might want to see that town on the way to Venice. Verona is most famous as the setting of Shakespeare's tragedy Romeo and Juliet, but the city also has some ancient Roman ruins. Davos, Switzerland was frequently recommended in Victorian times for tuberculosis patients, and that is where Doyle took his wife in the winter and spring of 1894.

If you want to see some video about Venice, here's Rick Steves on Hulu. If you can't access Hulu, there's some pictures and video here also. Naturally I skipped the non-romantic sites, and did not mention Carnival, since they are travelling in October to November instead of Mardi Gras time. I will try to post more chapters soon.