The Watson Love Cry

It was a cold evening in November, shortly after the curious incident of the loss and recovery of the Bruce Partington Plans, and as my good friend Holmes was in urgent need of a new occupation, I did all I could to distract him. This usually required no little inventiveness on my part, and I must admit that the ideas I came up with were not entirely legal, if truth be told most of them ended up in a completely criminal activity, but nonetheless they were still quite new to us, and all in all a pleasant and highly effective means of keeping the great mastermind off other, less healthy ways of diversion.

We had been sitting in front of the fireplace for more than two hours, each of us involved in some long neglected literature, when I realized that Holmes was not reading any more, but instead he was watching me quite attentively. I looked up from my book, and was immediately caught in the intensity of his gaze. As soon as Holmes noticed that he had caught my attention, though, he turned away, glancing into the fire, stretched and yawned, and then with another fleeting glance that just allowed me to detect the fire in his eyes, he got up from his chair.

"How about we go to bed early tonight," he said, and while his tone of voice was as casual as it could possibly be, he walked past me unnecessarily closely, grazing my shoulder with his hand, and purposefully, albeit teasingly kicking my foot with the side of his slipper. I looked up at him, and, going along with a cue so blatant that even I could not miss it, I smiled, clapped my book shut and rose, too.

As usual, we retired each to his own quarters first, and only when each of us had finished his evening toilette, the lights were turned down and all the blinds shut, our doors would open again. We would then silently agree on the room to occupy, changing back and forth between my own bedroom, which was smaller, but allowed a certain amount of vocal activity, and his, which offered more space, but required utter silence. This time again, I opened my door quietly, and I saw my good friend already waiting in front of it, his candle shaking slightly and thus reflecting the agitation of my own pounding heart.

As soon as I had closed the door and locked it, Holmes put down the candle on the one little table I had, and undressed. It was still a little awkward to watch him do so, but I had already learned that he did not like to waste words where actions were much more necessary, and this highly intimate situation was no exception. Only when he had shed his clothes did he embrace me, plastering his lean body against mine, and sealing our nightly intention with a kiss that was, as far as I can remember, quite unparalleled in its intensity.

We then went about our newly won routine of him undressing me while we both stumbled onto my bed - a venture that required quite some dexterity, and more than often lead to involuntarily humorous situations, such as the incident of the breaking bed. This time, however, we managed to lie down without any damage done, and I was about to pay my beloved friend's lower regions the attention they desired, when he asked me to halt.

"I have been thinking, my friend," Holmes said. "We have exploited the multifarious ways to entertain our bodies to such a degree now, that I cannot help but notice that there is a lack." At my obviously bland expression, he added, "I have recorded in my mind all the positions we have used up to now, and they all involved a certain amount of will power. However, once I have learned to ignore the simple fact that most of the things we do are utterly unhygienic, there still remains one thing to do, which we have not yet done."

I felt the heat crawl up my abdomen, and I immediately knew what he was heading at. But before I could utter a word, he went on. "Yes, my dear Watson," he said. "I am talking about penetration. Is it not the epitome of what we have already done?"

All I could do was stutter a word of agreement, and heave a sigh of anticipation.

"Now," he continued, "what do I have to do?"

Being called from my momentary state of numbness, I hastened to inquire what exactly he had in mind, in the regard of who would penetrate whom. To my utter amazement, he seemed to feel extremely liberate about that, too, and he had already made up his mind. "I cannot imagine getting into contact with... So, if you please, there is no possible other way than... You, me." He looked at me and smiled wryly. "If that is all right with you, my friend."

What could I say? It was more than all right, and I had hoped for something like this to happen eventually, and at the same time I would never have dreamt of it to become true. Trembling all over, I made all the little preparations necessary for a smooth transition, and when we finally united, I was almost overwhelmed with the intensity and with the loving confidence this act meant for both of us. Under different circumstances, it would be fatuous to say that our bodies moved in perfect unison, but for this incident, it was perfectly true.

And then, there happened something I am still blushing to think of. At the height of the ride, if I dare say so, I uttered some things I would never have said aloud in front of anyone else. We experienced a shattering climax, both of us at almost the same time, and panting we remained lying there for many long minutes. Carried away by the things I had said before, I then said the following: "You have caused me to suffer a pleasure that transports me to the land I knew not but dreamed of unawares!"

At this, Holmes started to tremble. First, I could not tell whether he was crying, and I carefully inquired if he was feeling well, but then I realized that he was shaking with laughter. "I did what?" he exclaimed. "Oh Watson, what shall I do with you? That is the most hackneyed thing I have ever heard, even from an incurably romantic heart like you are. It is uproarious!"

I did not know whether to grow furious or rather join him in his mirth, but I finally decided to do the latter. Ever since, I have been much more careful to choose my words, lest I say something that might, sooner or later, lead to the world's greatest detective suffocating with laughter. It would have been quite an inconvenient situation, indeed.