'You have to be kidding me with this heat…' Watson - in his full attire of trousers, a cream undershirt, waistcoat and jacket - wiped the sweat off of his forehead with a handkerchief looking at Holmes sternly. '…the person who wants us to do this job better be grateful. What is the job anyway? You never told me…'

'I am grateful Watson…'

Holmes, with only his shirt and trousers on, began to make his way closer to Watson, the sweat dripping slowly off of his torso.

Watson maintained a fixed expression of confusion: 'Holmes…do you care to elaborate?'

'There was no job Watson…however there is a job for you…' Holmes proceeded to smile, playing with the buttons of his shirt almost lustfully as he gazed at Watson.

'A job for me?'

'This night…it's so hot…so hot in fact I think you should…' Holmes pointed towards Watson slowly. '..Take off that jacket and shirt you have on…'

Watson laughed nervously, turning away from Holmes. Both of them were in an abandoned house, a house that Holmes suggested they had to go to in order to complete the job.

'Come on now…what was the actual job?' Watson scratched his chin with unease as he avoided Holmes's gaze, looking over all of the littered furnishings the house had to offer.

Holmes remained calm as he continued to approach Watson: 'I just told you…'

'Look I don't know what…'

Suddenly Watson was cut off as he was pushed against a thin, cracked wall, small bits of material floating around him like volcanic ash. His back hit it with such ferocity that he gasped out in pain, his open mouth a surprise invitation for Holmes's eager tongue. Crashing into him, Holmes began to rip off Watson's jacket, one hand pushing Watson's arm up against the wall, pinning him to it, unable to break free. As Holmes began to sink his body tighter against Watson, he felt a searing pain as Watson's nails dug into Holmes's arm, breaking the connection. Pushing Holmes away from him, Watson staggered towards a table that stood at the other end of the room, exhaling heavily as he tried to get his breath back. Angry, Watson gripped the end of the table with his hands - his knuckles now pale white as he shook his head in disbelief: 'What the hell is wrong with you Holmes?'

Holmes was confused as he gazed towards Watson, his mouth drooped down and his eyes wet with fresh tears. Whispering he replied back towards Watson: 'I'm so sorry…'

Watson turned his head towards Holmes, his eyes enraged in absolute fury: 'Do you have any idea how wrong that is…' Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, trying to remove any trace of where Holmes had touched him, Watson scoffed before proceeding to walk out of the room.

'No Watson! Wait!' Quickly, Holmes grabbed hold of Watson's forearm, pulling him towards him, his eyes still tearing up, his body shaking in anxiety.

'Don't you dare…' Watson threw Holmes's arm off of him, suddenly unleashing all of his fury into his fist. From a lunged swing, his fist connected into Holmes's face with a harsh smack. Falling to the floor in a daze, Holmes raised his hand towards his eye, his face contorted in pain.

'Look, I'm sorry…' Watson sighed, looking towards Holmes, extending his hand – the very hand whose knuckles were now red raw - giving Holmes the invitation to get up. Holmes did not accept it, as he pushed himself up on his knees, swaying slightly and leaning against a table, proceeded to stand up.

'It's quite alright Watson…'

'No…' Watson walked over towards Holmes, placing a hand on his shuddering shoulder. 'You don't understand…'

'As I stated Watson…it's quite alright. And please…if you can, forgive me…'

Holmes, seeing a splintered creaking chair just by him, sat down, his cheekbone now bruising in its purple and blue swirl of tortured color.

'Just shut up for one second Holmes!' Watson sighed, the connection breaking as he removed his hand from Holmes's shoulder, walking over towards the door. Holmes was solemn as he replied back with a simple 'Okay'. Now leaning against the doorframe, Watson exhaled heavily, closing his eyes tight as he shook his head in disgust. So many thoughts running through his brain like a deadly toxin, and Holmes would never know how he truly felt…god; he had a fiancée for crying out loud!

It was just wrong…

'Watson?' Holmes began to rise from his chair.

'...what?'

'Are you okay…considering…?'

'Not really Holmes…no…not at all…'

Watson, his hand subconsciously stroking the doorframe as he turned away from it, gazed towards Holmes. Holmes was stood there, his fingers interlocking in nervousness as Watson saw the damage he had done to Holmes's cheekbone, now turning purple and swollen. Holmes opened his mouth, ready to reply back to Watson, but thought against it, as his lips closed slowly, pressing together in sickening anxiety. Bringing up his left hand, Watson brought it towards Holmes's face, causing him to flinch slightly.

'Calm down…' Watson said sensually as his hand began to stroke Holmes's cheek, his fingers running smoothly across the skin and his long fingers tracing the swollen mark ever so softly, allowing no pain to come to Holmes. Knitting his eyebrows into a confused frown, Holmes stared right into the ocean blue eyes that stood in front of him, those very eyes that looked so youthful and yet seemed to hold a century's worth of wisdom. However Holmes did not get a chance to enquire as Watson placed a soft, slow, tender kiss onto his cheek, his eyes now closed, his hand still remaining there caressing Holmes's cheekbone. Even after the kiss, Watson lingered there, face to face, almost touching, the heat radiating off of their bodies getting hotter and hotter. With his hand trailing down towards Holmes's arm, he gently led him back towards the chair, lowering him down gently. Without uttering a single word, Watson began to unbutton Holmes's shirt, allowing his fingers to caress over the exposing torso as he did so. Holmes could only comply as he himself did not move his lips, instead allowing Watson to slowly remove the sleeves down from his arm, the shirt then throwing itself down on the floor in a graceful heap. Leaning his back deep into the chair, Holmes stared at Watson, noticing the deep lines etched into his face as he proceeded to remove Holmes's trousers. One button unlocked, Holmes gently lifted up his buttocks to allow Watson to pull the tight material down from his legs, and again he placed it on the floor beside the shirt. Exposed and silent, Holmes who was still sweating from the scorching heat, closed his eyes as Watson sat himself down on Holmes's thighs, his legs wrapping around the back of the chair so that both of their chests were touching each other. Hot and sticky, Holmes arched his back to allow Watson to be entered for full penetration. Moving himself to align with Holmes's now risen organ, Watson sat back down, groaning as it prodded his tight opening. Entering him fully, Holmes also moaned in pleasure as his shaft was now surrounded by Watson's inner heat, his hand now gripping itself tightly on Watson's back. Watson, moving himself up and down in a rhythmic motion, kissed Holmes's moist lips, his tongue tasting his partner's sweet salvia as Holmes tongue also replied in eagerness. Both of their lips seemed to combine together, their salvia mixing like a passionate toxin, as Watson's motions began to get faster, causing Holmes's organ to ache in ecstasy. Holmes's hand began to rise up, taking Watson's now rigid cock in his hand, the sweat already acting as a beautiful lubrication. The chair began to creak as the movements began to get harsher and more intense with Watson's slick body moving up and down, and Holmes's glistening body being pushed against the wooden material. With both of their naked entities joined together, their veins coursing with orgasmic energy, and with their hearts beating as fast as a invincible bullet, Holmes and Watson gazed into each other's eyes – the bright, crystalline eyes that seemed to penetrate into their corrupting souls. As they looked at each other intently, the erotic intensity became almost too much to bear, as nails clawed deep into skin, and their muscles twitched in lustful elation. Within seconds, orgasm went into overdrive as both of them came – Holmes's fluid driving itself into Watson and Watson's come exiting all over Holmes's stomach, both of them crying out in passionate relief. Holmes did not even notice the mess that had landed on his skin, as both of them crashed onto the wooden floor in exhaustion, their bodies moving slowly so that Watson was behind Holmes, his arms wrapping over him as he started to drift off to sleep.

'Watson…' Holmes said, his eyes also closed, his breath coming in and out in rapid gasps.

'Yes Holmes….'

'Care to take on another job…say tomorrow morning?'

Holmes would not see it, but Watson started to smile coyly, before placing a gentle kiss on Holmes's back:

'Of course Holmes…but you better be grateful.'

Holmes grinned:

'You know…I am always grateful…'