+ Excerpts from John H. Watson's Journal (1988-2010) +

August 20th, 1998

This summer hasn't been very eventful, unless cleaning up shit and piss from a bed pan and washing old, wrinkly backs with sponges is your idea of a good time. I got this internship as a nurse aid and received a stipend of €12.00 an hour, worked 7 hours (Monday thru Friday) for almost two months…so it added up to a good amount of cash.

This summer was basically me, sick people, and Holmes. And I wouldn't have had it any other way. Well, maybe I'd have it without the sick people but they were my best bet for getting a new car.

Holmes and I, um, mucked around a lot—at the cinema, the park, the beach, the countryside, and in the car. We did everything together.

Basically everything but shagging. I'm hoping to remedy that in, oh, approximately two weeks time (when we go off to University and finally have a god damn room to ourselves). Can you believe Holmes is an 18 year old virgin? I know. I couldn't believe it either because he's so damn forward about everything else. He told me he just hadn't found the right person until me.

Our peers over here seem to look down on virgins but, me? I say good for them! More power to them! To be a virgin as a young adult shows great self-control and self-respect. I kind of, sort of wish I hadn't let my hormones take over and shagged that painfully shy 15-year old artist only three years ago. She was a freak in bed, but it wasn't particularly how I wanted my first time to play out.

I'm both nervous and extremely excited for University. I'm nervous because it's going to be such a massive difference from being home. Unfamiliar people and environment. The usual school jitters. I'm excited because I don't have to live at home anymore with my tosser of a brother (living at home at 28? Seriously?) and nosy parents. I love my parents, but they can get on my nerves most of the time.

But the real reason I'm excited? Holmes and I get to share a dormitory. It's going to be ridiculous. Plus we are in some of the same classes since I'm planning to go to medical school and Holmes is studying chemistry. I'll basically be joined at the hip with him.

Holmes and I aren't exactly being loud and proud about our relationship. From far away we look like two very close friends but look a little closer and you'll see Holmes' cock in my mouth.

I'll guess I'll just have to raise a pint to open-mindedness at Cambridge.


November 1st, 1998

Our entire floor went to this crazy Halloween costume party yesterday and we all drank ourselves into oblivion. I don't really remember much from that night but all I know is that:\

a) I'm hung-over with a glorified headache

b) Holmes isn't speaking to me

c) My Paul McGann Eight Doctor costume has nasty stains from god knows what.

Shit, there's the door.


Well he's pissed. Apparently I was sucking face with some upperclassman in the cupboard under the stairs. It's not like I was coherent enough to recognize what I was doing, so I don't get why he's so fucking mad. He couldn't even look me in the eye when he was speaking. It's that bad.

He went off on a long rant saying that he was not sure if I'm trustworthy enough to be his boyfriend (that really stung, I'm not going to lie; I think of myself as one of the most trustworthy people I know) and that all of his life he has had an extremely hard time trusting people. But he never said why. He just stormed out of the room.

I guess he'll need some time to cool down and I'll have to speak to him eventually, right? He does share a room with me.


December 20th, 1998

Five days to Christmas holiday, and boy am I glad for that blessing. The work load is already unbearable, and I've barely even settled into the bloody University.

Oh, it was my birthday yesterday…and I got a very, very, very nice gift from Holmes. By gift I mean he allowed me to shag him in our dorm room whilist a Paganini tape played soothingly on our stereo. Not only was it soothing but it helped drown out Holmes' strangulated noises.

But something wasn't completely perfect about it. I'll describe it in full detail, journal, and you'll see what I mean.

Once he decided he was ready I slowly lowered him onto the duvet of my bed and appreciatively removed his clothing. I allowed myself to observe his form as I steadily removed my own garb—I'd seen him stark nude plenty of times before never in such an intimate way, under the light of a singular lamp, the decrescendo of a violin and the way his brown eyes glistened in anticipation.

His body was more lithe and muscular than I'd last remembered, as if he'd been preparing for this moment and hoping not to dissatisfy me—as if I would ever be dissatisfied with him.

I crawled on all fours and scooped down and kissed him softly, multiple times on his soft lips and his hand found my hair and ruffled it up.

There were fingers sliding down my waist in that scientific, prodding Holmesian way and his hand eventually cupped my arse and squeezed on the firmness I'd worked so hard to achieve. I was rubbing against him now, slowly increasing our friction and I became harder than stone. Holmes length pressed onto my leg, and I smiled into my kiss.

I pulled my face away to just take in his visage in all its angular glory and I brushed hair his maddening hair from his forehead.

"Are you ready, beautiful?"

"Do I even need to answer that?" Holmes growled.

So I grabbed a tube from my sidetable, poured some of it into my hands, my fingers kindly invaded Holmes' space and he whimpered when I massaged and hit his prostrate. After I removed my hands, and provided every other safety measure, I pulled his legs over my shoulders and positioned my throbbing member by his entrance. I licked my lips and he gave me a "come on you twat, I'm oozing with the need to have you inside me" look. He moaned so fucking loudly when I first entered his hot, tight space and god did I get off on that. But I kind of wished he'd keep it down because the walls are most likely paper thin. If anyone asks I'd say Holmes was watching porn way too loud. Heterosexual porn, of course. With massive, bouncing breasts and overly dramatic sex noises. Yeah.

"Am I hurting you? Just let me know and I'll stop," I asked roughly.

"No, John. God no. It feels g-great. Keep going for fuck's sake," he said breathlessly, commandingly and I obliged. Several thrusts and heightened ecstasy mind-swirling moments later (paired with mess of cum), I collapsed onto Holmes and hugged his waist tightly, kissing his shoulder.

It felt like the first time despite it not being it. The tender way Holmes cupped my chin and caressed my face afterward and the way he looked at me in that hazy-eyed post-coital gaze gave me this warm feeling my chest. I couldn't help it—it was just too perfect of a time not to say it.

"I love you," I blurted out nervously. Holmes simply pulled me in toward him and kissed me and I kind of frowned into his mouth. And that was that.

Do you see what I mean? There was a gaping hole (other than Holmes' anus after I finished with him. Woops, sorry, was that too obscene? I'm not usually like that, sorry. Fuck it, no one else it reading this but me) in that night. Those same three words that I'd said so boldly were still missing and were stuck somewhere within the depths of my dear friend, Sherlock Holmes.

What. The. Fuck.


AN: Mother of God, I'm seriously sorry for this long amount of time it took me to publish this chapter. There wasn't much of a reason why other than I didn't know what the hell to write and I forgot about it. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed and fav'd this story. I really appreciate it. You're my motivation, and I'll make sure to get the next chapters up quickly.

Next chapter(s) deals with the end of University life and the beginning of adult life. Expect fluff and angst. ::)