A/N: Ok, first - the explaination of 'Unto the breach' isn't meant to offend anyone, like I'm calling you stupid or anything, I had to look it up myself and I thought - hey, if I don't know what it means, chances are there are people out there who don't either. So I thought I'd just pop that in there.

Secondly - this plot bunny sprung forth after my partner and I totally misheard 'Unto the breach' as 'under the bridge' creating all sorts of filthy thoughts and ideas in our heads. So when we found out it wasn't that at all, I was actually kind of annoyed, so I decided to write this lol.

Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

No beta used, so all mistakes are my own.

Please review! But if you have crit, make it concrit please ;)

Once More Unto The Breach

Meaning of 'Once More Unto The Breach'.

Let us try again one more time.


'Once more unto the breach' - is from the 'Cry God for Harry, England, and Saint George!' speech of Shakespeare's Henry V, Act III, 1598.

The pursuit was long and tiring, the hour early. Holmes had originally gone alone, the front door waking Watson as he left. The doctor knew exactly where his detective was headed and knew he'd struggle to take the men down alone. So where the detective went, his doctor followed.

"I could've informed Lestrade to meet me-" Holmes starts

"Yes, but that would be responsible Holmes." Watson retorts, rubbing his hand over his face wearily. "I dread to think what will happen to you when I-"

"I will be fine, Doctor. I managed myself perfectly well before I met you, I will manage again." the detective replies, his voice tight with annoyance that only Watson's trained ears would likely detect.

"Will you indeed? I have no idea how you 'managed' before, seen as now I have to do virtually everything for you, or at least remind you to do it. Who will remind you to eat? To sleep? To get out of the rooms every now and again when you have no case? Who will try to stop you poisioning your body with cocaine when you're 'bored'? or patch you up after fights at The Punch Bowl?"

"I'm sorry, who is leaving who in this relationship?" Holmes begins


"-Very well, 'partnership'. If you're that concerned for my wellfare, why leave?" Holmes spits, his eyes both hurt and angry. It never failed to take Watson by surprise when Holmes allowed his mask of indifference to slip, if only for a moment.

"I... Holmes, you know damn well why! I am to be married!" Watson snaps, guilt and frustration gnawing on his last nerve.

"Yes, yes. I am well aware of that fact, Doctor. Although why you felt you had to find this woman is beyond me." Holmes says, his voice echoing slightly as they walk under a large stone bridge.

"It is clearly something you will never understand, let alone warm to so don't bother trying. Sometimes I do wonder if you have a heart at all." the doctor says cruelly.

"What?" Holmes stops walking and eyes Watson, this time with an expression the taller man cannot read. Clearly he had overstepped the mark here.

"You heard me." Watson spits, his anger getting the better of him. Yes, at one time he had thought himself in love with this mad, brilliant man. But he felt the sentiment never returned, despite the success of the physical side of their relationship. Watson had come to the age where he longed for a companion as well as a great sex life, and Holmes didn't seem interested. He only wanted things to stay the same and used Watson as stress or bordom relief when required. "Have you ever loved anyone? Your parents? Mycroft? Irene? Me! Has nothing other than a cold, calculated logical use for us ever entered your mind?"

For a moment, Watson is certain Holmes will hit him, the anger and hurt that flashes over that ususally calm, indifferent face. It passes in a moment though, but Watson's heart begins to hammer in his chest as Holmes closes the space between them with two strides.

"You know I loved you." He says simply, quietly.

"Actually, I didn't know that. I thought I was just a way to... let off steam." The doctor replies, glad for the darkness cast by the shadows under the bridge, as a blush rises on his cheeks. It is not that he's prude about such matters, however more or less admitting you allowed yourself to be another man's fuck toy for months can be a little embarrassing.

"Really. Do I strike you as the type to engage in such activities on a regular and altogether meaningless basis? I tried it once, as an experiment when I was 21 with a woman, and later that year with a man. I found neither experience overly compelling. Why people held the activity in such regard, was something I thought I'd never understand...that is until I met you."

Watson, for his part is staring in astonishment at Holmes' openess and ease of talking about the subject. When they had been together, they had never spoken of their activities, they had just happened.

"The moment I saw you, I knew what true physical attraction was. I would never allow myself to be drawn in by this alone you understand... It was when you moved in, though I had deduced much about you at first sight, you suprised me with you're character, wit and intelligence. That is what made me fall in love with you. When we finally did become -closer- I never voiced this fact because of all the things I know about you and can expect from you, I had no idea how you viewed our relationship. If you were just letting off steam-"

The detective finds himself suddenly being pushed backwards, his back hitting the wall of the bridge quite forcefully. For a moment he is unsure of the situation, grabbing Watson's lappels and positioning his feet so he can escape the iron grip Watson has on him if needs be. Then he feels the doctor's mouth crush against his own, in a bruising possessive kiss and all thoughts of escape dissipate instantly. His hands slide up from the taller man's collar, to his shoulders, then up into his hair, carding through and tugging intermittantly drawing low growls from the doctors throat. For his part, Watson has his hands everywhere he can reach, undoing the buttons on Holmes' waistcoat, slipping inside feeling his warm, muscled body beneath thin cotton. Soon even the cotton is too much to bear between them and he roughly untucks Holmes's shirt, sliding his hands up onto his detective's chest, thumbs rubbing his nipples, fingers pinching them occasionally. Watson trails his lips along Holmes' jaw, to his ear, nibbling on the shell and dipping his hot, wet tongue inside, his moustache scratching at the sensitive skin. Holmes feels a tingling sensation travel all the way down his spine, pooling in his groin making his semi-hard cock jump to attention.

"I've missed this." Watson breathes into the detective's ear, causing a shudder to run through his body and goosepimples to erupt over his skin. "Missed making you lose yourself, lose control. To just stop you thinking."

Holmes gasps when he feels his cock being pulled out of his trousers, exposing it to the cool early morning air. The sensation of cool breeze caressing his almost too hot skin is more erotic and exciting than he'd ever imagined. Not that he'd imagined being fucked under a bridge very often. All coherent thought left him then as he took in the sight before him.

Watson on his knees, one hand fumbling with his own trouser front, while the other grips Holmes' hip as he moves slowly forward, taking just the tip of the detectives' swollen cock into his mouth. Holmes head falls back, hitting the stone behind and a low groan escapes his lips, his hands flying to Watson's head, gripping his hair to attempt to ground himself as he feels those, hot, wet talented lips and tongue slide slowly down his shaft, taking him in inch by inch, until he's in up to the hilt. The urge to move, to fuck Watson's mouth and throat is almost too much to bear and he squirms slightly, his breathing laboured and sweat beginning to form a light sheen on his forehead and upper lip at the strain of not moving. "Please" he pants out, gently tightening his grip in Watson's hair.

The doctor takes pity on his and begins a slow rhythm, sucking hard as he pulls back and stroking the hot, hard length with his tongue whilst taking him back in, pulling back entirely on occasion to just suck and swirl his tongue over and around the swollen head, lapping at the precome at the slit before taking him in again, the doctor working his own cock in long, teasing pulls. After a time this slow, sensual pace is too much for Holmes and he attempts to fuck Watson's mouth. The doctor pulls back and rips Holmes' trousers from their loose purchase on the detectives slim hips. The doctor then pulls a pot of salve from his pocket (having stashed a few medical supplies in his pockets in case of minor injury) and slathers two fingers quickly.

"Watson-?" Holmes starts to ask, unable to see what the doctor is up to, his other senses dulled by the overwhelming throbbing in his cock and arousal coarsing through his veins. "Ohh..." the detective groans as he feels those slick fingers against his entrance and that breeze against his cock again, the feeling intensified by the rapidly cooling saliva left behind from the doctor's talented mouth. Then one of those fingers breaches him. "Fuuuck..."

"Soon, Holmes." Watson promises, his voice rough with arousal.

For the first time that evening, Holmes wishes they were at home, in Watson's bed where they could be completely naked and as loud as they like.

"There's plenty of time for that." The doctor promises again, as if reading the detectives mind. He adds another finger and thrusts them deep inside, crooking them just right making stars explode behind Holmes' eyelids.

"Oh god!" Holmes moans, back arching against the cold, unforgiving stone behind him. At that moment Watson swallows the detectives aching cock again, the stark contrast between cool air to hot mouth too much and he comes hard down the doctor's throat, sagging against the wall, breathing hard.

Suddenly, he feels himself being lifted and sheathed onto Watson's erection. Trapped between the wall behind him and Watson's hot, unforgiving body, hard cock thrust up his arse, taking him rough and fast, the doctor groaning obscenities into his ear, Holmes decides there are definately worse places to be trapped.

"Fuck, you're so tight Holmes. Feels so good."

Holmes moans in return, wrapping his strong legs around Watson's waist as he is fucked thoroughly, every thrust hitting his prostate dead on, the feeling almost too much, making him squirm and buck a litteny of 'fuck' and 'please' falling breathily from his lips. Amazingly Holmes can feel his cock stiffen again already, and he takes it in hand, stroking firmly in time with Watson's almost brutal thrusts. All too soon he feels heat pooling at the base of his spine, curling around to his groin, ready to unfurl and explode. Watson beats him too it, and the long, loud groan the doctor lets out along with the look of total bliss on his features, eyes wide but unseeing, clouded by the intense feeling taking over his body, causes Holmes to tip over the edge a second time. His passage clamps down on Watson's cock, milking the last of his orgasm from him, his own load spurting in thick, white jets over Watson's partially bared chest (when had his shirt been ripped open?) and neck. When both have somewhat recovered their faculties and their breathing has calmed, Watson lowers Holmes to the ground, the detecives legs cramping slightly, still trembling from the orgasms that have racked his body.

They slowly put each other to rights, Holmes smirking before leaning forward and licking some of his seed off Watson's neck.

"Utterly depraved." Watson says with an answering smirk, his voice low and rough.

"Says the man who just committed an illicit and rather illegal act of carnal lust under a filthy, dank bridge with his male friend." The detective counters.

"Touche." Watson remarks, wiping the last of Holmes' come off of him with a hankerchief. "So, I suppose this is perhaps the right moment to tell you... I haven't actually proposed to Mary yet. I fully intended to last week, but at the last moment, I lost my nerve. It just didn't feel right somehow. Now I know why."

Holmes' smile could've outshone the sun, had it been out. "So you won't be moving then?"

"Do you really need to ask that question, Holmes?" Watson teases with a smile of his own. "Once more unto the breach, my dear man."