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I hardly woke up that morning. I was facing a wall, and only moved my head to look around me and did not immediately recognize the room where I had obviously been sleeping. I tried to turn around when I saw a hand, lazily resting on my waist. That was one thing I immediately recognized, this hand belonged to Holmes, judging by the little scars on his phalanges, the blue veins and the bandage on his index finger, it could only be Holmes'. When I felt his breath against the back of my neck, the hot sensation made me remember why he has holding me. It all came back at once, why I wasn't wearing anything, whose room and whose bed was this, why I was in it, and most of all, the amazing night I had spent.
But not only the good things came back to me, the question did come back too.
What is Holmes feeling for me ? What will happen when he will wake up ? Would he still want me ? What is just physical attraction he felt for me yesterday ? Or more ? What will he want from me in the future ? I thought.
He couldn't love me. I could not think of him as sensible to the softer emotions. In fact, even thinking of him as a 'sexual being' terrified me. Was I his first one ? I asked myself. He didn't look like he did not know what he was doing anyway, he looked quite experienced- My thoughts were interrupted by a kiss on the nape of my neck. I turned around, and there he was, the man of all my fantasies, my heart and soul, staring at me through half closed eyes. I looked at him. His hair was a mess, he looked tired but amazing. I then glanced at his hand, still resting on my waist. He didn't seem to bother moving it.
"Good morning" said the amazing naked man whom I was in bed with, with a husky voice and a slight smile.
"Good morning." I replied.
He scanned my face for a moment, obviously lost in his thoughts.
"What happened ?" he asked.
Don't you remember ?"
"Well..." He said "I recall being in the siting room, you were reading. Then... Ah, yes when you put your book down we began practicing different activities involving no shirt, I think."
"Hmm... And then ?"
"Then... You dragged me upstairs and- Oh"
"I see you remember now." I smiled.
"I do." He kissed my clavicles. "Where did you learn to do that ?" He asked.
"I had a few experiences in the army."
"Oh." He held me closer. "Well, it was quite amazing I must say."
"Yes, I thought so."
He pushed me so I was lying my back, and left his hand on my chest. He locked his gaze in mine and his mouth was only a few inches away from my own.
"Yesterday," he snapped. "Did I kiss you a lot ?"
"Quite a lot, yes but-"
"Why did I stop ?"
"You fell asleep."
"Ah. That's too bad." He closed his eyes for a second and opened them again. "And why did you stop ?"
"You fell asleep."
"Ah. Too bad, really, I shouldn't have stopped." That said, he kissed me for a long time. When he stopped, none of us could breathe
"We should never stop again." He said and kissed me again. Those kisses were softer than the night before. He was calm and I could feel him smiling against my lips. I was still wondering what was going on between us. His attitude made me think more and more that he was sharing my feelings but I could not be sure until I heard him saying so. He stopped kissing me - How dared he ? He was the one who said we should never stop kissing !- and fixed his piercing grey eyes on me.
"What is it ?" He asked.
"I'm sorry ?" He couldn't be reading my mind while kissing me, that was impossible !
"What do you want me to say ?" he said. -Apparently it was not impossible, not for Sherlock Holmes- One side of his mouth curved into a smile.
"I- I don't know."
He raised his left eyebrow.
"It's just that- I don't know how to put it, or what to say, or ask."
He considered what I said. "Perhaps we should eat something and talk about it later. Don't you think ?" He said.
"Sounds good to me, old boy."
"We should clean ourselves up." He looked at me. "I don't think Mrs Hudson would appreciate to see us like that." He kept staring at me for a while. I wasn't sure but I think he was slightly smiling.
"You are cold."
"Am I ?"
"You are right. I am." The shivering creature who suddenly looked so vulnerable pressed himself against me, drew the blanket over us and rested his head on my shoulder. I think he liked that spot, his head fitted just well here. We stayed there for some time, both lost into our own thoughts. I took the time to study the room. Searching for a clock, I realized how hungry I was.
"Nearly ten O'clock." He always answered my questions before I even had time to ask, but it still surprised me after six years.
When I heard Holmes openning the bathroom door, I grabbed my clothes and went to meet him there. His hair was still wet and he only wore a towel on his waist. He always forgets to bring his clothes in the bathroom with him. The water was dripping from his hair to his shoulders.
"My God..." I whispered, amazed by the beauty of the man standing in front of me.
"I do appreciate the compliment but you can call me by my name."
We both laughed. He kissed me on the cheek and let me replace him in the bathroom.
When I came out, I found him before the door, he had placed his chair just at the entrance and was sitting there, gazing fondly at me.
"I always loved to watch you coming out of the bathroom." He eventually said.
"Why is that ?" I asked.
"For the same reason that makes you stare at me when I come out of the bathroom."
"Ah I- Wait, I don't come out of there half naked !"
"You don't." He said "But you could."
"Next time dear fellow, next time..." I said, going down the stairs.
"Do you remember that time when I've been poisoned, and I slept for three days ?" He asked, following me.
"I certainly do, yes."
"When I woke up," He continued. "You were in the chair next to my bed, watching me, and obviously, you had not slept in those three days."
"And you were unshaved."
I turned around to face him and nodded.
"Well, since that day I hope to see you coming out of the bathroom with that slight beard on you chin." He blushed before kissing me tenderly, letting me just enough time to smile.
We went to the sitting room where Holmes had already started the fire.
When I reached the door to go and find Mrs Hudson, he ran out before I could even realize what was happening.
"Please." He said and went downstairs. I heard him talking kindly to the landlady, asking her how she was today and if she could bring us something to eat.
I couldn't believe it. Where was the man who yelled at the poor woman when he was hungry ? Normally I would go down the stairs to ask her, or he would just scream until she gave him some food.
We finished eating Mrs Hudson's wonderful meal, he was smoking a pipe in his chair- The chair wasn't in front of the bathroom anymore- and I was in the settee, lost in my thoughts.
"What is it that is troubeling you, Watson ?" Holmes asked. I realized he had been watching me for over half an hour without saying anything.
"The same thing as this morning." I said.
"Ah. Would you like to talk about that 'thing' ?"
"Of course I would. I just don't know how."
He bit his lip.
"What is it about ?" he asked.
"A man." I snapped. His face became paler than ever.
"A man." He repeated my words and I thought I saw a flash of terror in his eyes, though his face was unreadable. "A man." He said again, his expression was now a mixture of anxiety and anger.
"Who ?" He snapped, looking more and more upset.
"I-" I tryed to talk but he spoke louder.
"Who Watson ? Who is it ? pray, tell me because I'm not-"
"You ! You stupid genius," This time I spoke louder. Then the silence began invading the room. "What did you expect ?" I asked. "Did you really think I could even consider thinking of another man ?"
He considered my question.
"Why, yes, I mean- I don't know, why could you not ? I-"
"Because I love you !" I exclaimed. He was stupefied and just looked at me. I think I was even more surprised than him that I said it. I thought it was obvious that I loved him. Apparently he did not.
"You what ?" He didn't love me. He couldn't Now I had doubts.
"I- I love you, and if you don't feel the same way about me I don't think I could- I mean I don't think I will-" The way he was looking at me, he could not love me.
"Watson-" He doesn't love me. Sherlock Holmes doesn't love anyone. Not even me.
"And if you can't accept such an amount of emotions, I am prepared to start searching for new lodgings immediately." I couldn't look at him in the eyes, I couldn't breathe, and I was waiting for him to say something.
When I finally managed to stop looking at the floor and look at him instead he blinked.
"Say it again." he said, very quietly, almost whispering.
"I am prepared to-"
"Not that part !" He looked quickly at his shoes, then back at me. "Before."
"I love you." I was holding my breath again.
"When did it start ?" he asked.
"At the very moment I saw you- No, actually, about two seconds after, when I heard your voice." My heart was pounding and saying what this felt like being naked in Piccadily Circus. "Holmes, don't toy with me like this. Do you have any feelings for me or am I making a fool of myself ?"
He sighed. Bad sign... I thought
"Watson," He began. "What would you think of two men, living together for six years, without ever being seen with a woman and whose devotion to each other is so total and absolute that they cant' even think of being separated ?"
"I would think- Well, they're having some kind of affair."
"I would say more : they are in love." He paused to see my reaction. "So, think. This is our situation, is it not ?" He didn't wait for my answer. "Now, how could you possibly think I might not have any feelings for you ? How could anyone spend over six years with you and not have any feelings for you ?"
"Why, I don't know, but obviously you are not 'anyone'." I snapped. "I mean, before yesterday I didn't know you could even think of the carnal pleasures. You always said you had no interest in the softer emotions for it would 'interfere with your work'."
"That was to protect myself."
"From what ?"
"From... I... Watson, you know I'm not comfortable with the softer emotions. I never spoke of my family, of love, nor of past loves. I have, as any human being, quite an interest for the 'carnal pleasures', as you call them, and practiced a few times." he stopped and stared at me. "You are wondering how many partners I had. Right ?"
How does he know ?
"Well," He coughed. "twelve before you." He continued. "One woman and eleven men- Not at the same time. And I am not comfortable speaking about this, but, do you know how many times I fell in love ?" Again, he didn't wait for my answer. "Once. Only one man."
I felt as if someone had just stabbed me right in the heart.
"Why are you making it worst than it is ? Why are you telling me this Holmes ?"
"Because," he took a deep breath. "That man is you."
He stood up and took my hand, making me stand up with him.
"Listen Watson- John, I'm not sure this is going to sound right but, I love you."
I tried to speak but no words came out. He held me in his arms and rested his chin on my shoulder, slowly caressing the back of my head with his left hand while his right arm encircled my waist.
"How- How could you think I would ask you to leave ?" He asked with a slightly trembling voice. I knew it wasn't really a question, and to answer I only held him a bit tighter.
"For all these years," he whispered, then spoke a little bit louder. "I enjoyed every single moment I spent with you, I talked and laughed with you. You saved my life so many times, I can't even count them anymore. My heart belongs to you. In fact, you won it the day after I met you. He moved back. "You are the only person I trusted enough to tell him my complete name. That makes you the only living person -apart from my brother, Mycroft- who knows it, and the most important person in my life."
His eyes were sparkling. He was really moved by this conversation, maybe it brought back some old memories, maybe not. This was Sherlock Holmes and knew I was not able to understand him.
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes, you are the most amazing man I ever had the pleasure to meet." I declared.
A smile illuminated his features when I said his name.
"William, may I ask you something ?"
"Whatever you want, dearest."
"When was the last time you said 'I love you' ?"
"I was four years old , if I recall correctly..." He seemed to be considering it. "It was to my Nanny. A remarkable woman."
"Good God, Holmes, and you never said it since ?"
"Not until today."
For the rest of the afternoon, we sat in front of the fire, talking about different things. If we had not been in each other's arms, kissing every 30 seconds, our conversation could have been considered as 'normal', even if we talked more than usual. Holmes doesn't talk much. That's why I love hearing his voice so much, well, that's one of the many reasons.
I do not remember when, but at some point, Holmes took off his dressing gown and lied down on the floor.
"Would you like to join me ?" he proposed. So I did.
We were both on the floor, covered by the world's first consulting detective's dressing gown, his head resting on my chest and our legs intertwined. When we heard Mrs Hudson's knock at the door, he threw the dressing gown on the armchair and rolled to put some space between us.
"Come in !" He yelled.
As she entered the room, Mrs Hudson threw an amused glance at us. "You shouldn't stay on the floor like this, you'll catch a chill."
"No worries Mrs Hudson, we're not made of sugar." Holmes said cheerfully.
"Yes, well, you could at least wear a dressing gown Mr Holmes." she answered, still smiling. Holmes threw a quick, playful glance at me.
"When do you want to eat ?" She asked.
"Whenever dinner's ready my dear. I'm starving !" Holmes' way of rolling the "R" was just irresistible.
"Then, I'll bring you your meal in half an hour." She declared and left.
When we finished eating and Mrs Hudson left our rooms for the last time, Holmes locked the door and approached me in his usual delicate and quiet fashion. The man had a real passion for dramatic and unnecessary loud entrances, but once he was in the room, I wouldn't hear him unless he wanted me to. He clasped our hands and looked at me, his eyes were saying so much different things at the same time, all the things he couldn't pronounce properly because he was scared to show any kind of feelings.
I couldn't stand this much longer, I had to break the silence, that's when I remembered something he told me before.
"Holmes," I eventually said. "earlier this afternoon you said something I would like you to explain." He nodded. "You said I won you heart the day after I met you."
"Ah. That's pretty simple. The very day I met you, I thought you were stunning, and fell in love with you. The next morning, I woke up and decided I would dedicate my life to you and that my heart will be yours forever."
I don't know how it happened but a few moments later, Holmes was on me, getting me out of the already poor remaining of my clothing, and his at the same time. He was really good with his hands, so using them to undress two persons at the same time while kissing one of them didn't seem to be a too great effort for him.
Now that we were both completely naked and on the floor, we stopped kissing, just to look at each other.
"Shall we continue this upstairs ?" asked my lover, a little bit too kindly for the situation.
We climbed the stairs to our rooms, stopping every two or three step to kiss or push the other against the wall.
As we finally reached our rooms, our shafts were hard with need and I- nor Holmes could wait much longer. When we were in the room and the the door was closed, the detective pushed me on the bed but held my hands so I wouldn't fall. He joined me, my skin was against his so very softer one. I was ashamed, I didn't notice the night before because everything went so quickly, but my body next to his looked so ridiculous and ugly. All the scars and the thick hair on my chest, angainst his immaculate skin, except for that one scar next to his nipple, his torso was perfect.
"You look amazing." he declared, reading my thoughts, as always. Holding my hands over my head, he kissed me.
"Even if you had the body of a greek god, you couldn't be more beautiful to me." He kissed my chin. "And I- love-" he punctuated every words by a kiss on a different place on my face or neck. "every- single- inch- of you,- every muscle,- every scar,- every little imperfection- and- most of all-" he thoroughly kissed me on the lips. "The perfect assemblage all those details make." This declaration almost brought tears to my eyes, but this was not the moment to cry, I thought.
He went all the way down to my groin and waisted no time to lick and suck it. But he was treating me with so much tenderness, I have never seen him like this before. I was discovering a whole new Holmes, a Holmes who was softly kissing my thigh and parting my legs delicately with trembling hands.
He took the bottle of lubricant- which was in the bed, where we left it the night before- and poured a generous amount of it in his hands. He inserted one finger in me and pushed in and out, causing me to groan without being able to help it. He bent down to ravage my neck with his mouth as a second finger entered me. Stroking the long muscles of his back and trying to feel every inch of him with my hands, I threw back my head, begging for more. He kept torturing me in this exquisite fashion until I had to beg him to stop for I was going to finish there and then. He withdrew his fingers but kept thoroughly exploring my neck and chin while his hands touched every inch of my abdomen and my thighs.
When I calmed down a bit, he positioned the tip of his cock at my entrance and stopped there to wait for my approbation. Nodding was the only thing I could manage to do to answer. He pushed slowly, sighing as my muscles contracted around his swollen member. Then, as he was slowly rocking his hips and penetrating me a bit further every time he pushed, I felt my climax approaching. He withdrew his cock and flipped me on my stomach, I didn't even have enough time to protest or agree, he was already in me again. But this time all the sensations were increased. He was hitting my prostate again and again, causing me more pleasure every time. The bedhead was banging against the the wall, Holmes was groaning, burying his face in my neck, we were quite loud and for a second, I feared Mrs Hudson could hear us, but then I climaxed, and as the night before, nothing mattered. I could not think. Nothing was around me, just him, in me. Two seconds after, he came, crying my name and joining me in this never ending so delightful ache. I gripped his wrists. I didn't realize but I was hurting him. Actually, he didn't realize either.
I felt his most welcome weight on me, his heavy breathing in my hair and his heartbeat on my shoulder blade and he was holding my hands. If he had not decided to move a few minutes later, I swear I could have stayed there forever. We both rolled to be lying on our backs, he curled in my arms and sighed.
"I don't think I will ever be able to get up from that bed again." Said Sherlock, or, as I'm supposed to call him, 'William'. The simple thought of his name made me smile.
"Well, at least you can walk... Considering what you just did to me, I probably won't be able to walk until... next week."
"Oh, then I can do whatever I want to you and you won't walk away." He remarked.
"You are wicked." I answered, already thinking of what we could do next time, and the time after, and after and... My thoughts were interrupted there.
"Why didn't we go to your room tonight ?" my detective asked.
"Your bed is bigger." I answered.
"Your room is better." I chuckled. "What are you thinking about ?" He asked.
"I think that you- and your bed- are moving to my room within the next 24 hours." I paused. "Oh, and the lubricant." I smirked.
"Of course, the lubricant comes with the bed."
We remained silent for a few seconds, perhaps a minute, or two. He traced the lines of my jaw with his finger.
"I love you." he said quickly as if he was scared the words wouldn't come out if he didn't say it at that exact moment. I know how hard it was for him to admit he had feelings, and kissed him on the forehead before replying that I loved him too.
"What on earth are you thinking about ?" he said as he propped himself on one elbow.
"You should know, you are the master at reading other people's thoughts."
"I'm too tired for deductions." he answered softly.
"I was thinking that we could do a lot more things in this bed."
"Hmm... Perhaps when it will be in your room we should test it... To se if the... orientation is correct."
"Well, we might have to find the right angle if we are going to repeat tonight's actions three times a day, 360 day a year, I-"
"Three times a day 360 days a year ?"
"Why, I'm sorry dear, I'm not a machine, I could hardly do more."
I laughed and he looked satisfied by my reaction, and proud of himself. He held me in his arms and I managed- I don't know how- to put my head on his chest without moving too much. After a brief silence Holmes declared
"Tomorrow, we will put my bed in your room-"
"Which will become our room." I could not help but add.
"Our room, yes. But tomorrow, not tonight. Tonight, sleep."
"You are right, I'm exhausted." I said.
I moved back to see him. He gave me a long, soft kiss.
"Goodnight my love." he said before turning of the light next to the bed. I put my head back on his chest with the intention to fall asleep on it, but there I found a much more distracting activity.
"Are you... counting my heartbeat ?" He asked hesitantly.
"I am." His heart beat faster when he realized this, but then slowed down some ten minutes later, when he fell asleep.
And there I was, thinking of the bright future waiting for us, half counting my sleeping lover's heartbeat. This night would be a long one.
Morpheus could wait.