Observed | By : Laiquendi Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Sherlock Holmes > Threesomes Plus Views: 3480 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on the Sherlock Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. |
For the past month my dear friend Sherlock Holmes had been acting queerer than usual. I knew he had no case in hand and yet he was in and out our door at odd hours and recently taken to locking himself in his room. As his friend I was concerned yet as a doctor I was appalled. Holmes was eating only when coaxed and then hardly at all.
I had come down to retrieve a book I was reading, hoping to coax my mind towards sleep and saw a flicker of light from Holmes’ room. As he was the reason I could not find sleep that night, I crossed to his door and looked in on him.
Holmes had not locked his door that night and it opened quietly under my hand. Lying on his narrow bed, highlighted by the candle on his dressing table was Holmes. He had forgone his nightdress and blankets and lay nude upon his mattress. That alone was not shocking as it was the height of summer and our rooms were warmer than usual. What caught my eye and brought a flush to my face was the fact that Holmes had himself in hand and was stroking gently.
I knew this was not something I should see and yet found myself too mesmerized to move away. Never would I have believed that my friend was capable of such emotions. Even with his eyes closed I could see the pleasure he felt in his own touch. As his breathing increased I became aware of the heaviness in my groin and realized I found the picture in front of me incredibly erotic. Yet it was his cry at his completion that sent me running back to my rooms, the word echoing in my ears….
WATSON!!!
~*~*~*~*~*
The release brought by my own hand was only to rid myself of tension so that I might be able to think. In my distracted state I forgot to lock my door so that I might be alone. The gasp followed by heavy footsteps on the stair told me I was observed. It is not that I felt any unnatural desires toward my intimate friend and colleague. Indeed, I knew Watson to be a firm admirer of the feminine form. I do not know why his name crossed my lips as it did.
In spite of the heat I slipped on both nightdress and gown. I perched in my favorite window with my thinking pipe in hand. At some point I knew I would have to speak with Watson. I am not a man who expresses emotions easily and indeed, the softer emotions serve only to cloud judgment and distract the mind.
I began to contemplate what I would tell my dearest friend upon the morrow. How was I to convince him what he saw and heard were in no way directed at him. The hours passed as I stared blankly out the window, thinking about Watson and how to lose his friendship would destroy me. Truly I was the fool this night for allowing everything to pile upon me until that was my only means of relief. This past month had not been an easy one for I was unengaged and Watson had long since forbidden my use of narcotics.
My long walks through London served to renew and add to my mental library of the city. But not my mind returns to Watson and the fine mess I’ve made of our friendship.
~*~*~*~*~*
“You would not think me a marrying man?” Holmes commented one evening.
Watson almost groaned. The last time Holmes said anything of the kind they had gone on to witness the murder of one of the worst blackmailers in England. “No I wouldn’t,” said he. “What poor woman have you under your spell this time?”
“Oh it is linked to a case,” replied Holmes. “And yet she would not agree to the terms unless I married her. So in order to proceed in the manner I need, we were wed this afternoon. She shall join us in the morning on the train.”
“You’re not serious,” exclaimed Watson. “How can you trifle with someone’s emotions so freely? One day you’ll go too far.”
“Some would say, my dear Watson, that I have already gone to far,” said Holmes. “Some things must be sacrificed in order to gain the information I require. She knows that we are married on paper only and that this is for a case. However she also knows that I will support her as best I can so she may aid me in the future.”
Watson stood and crossed to a window. “Some would think you had no heart.”
“Like you?” asked Holmes.
“No, of course not,” said Watson. “I just don’t like to see anyone used in such a fashion, especially a lady.”
“I do not abuse her,” stated Holmes, standing and crossing his arms. “I have offered her a better place than she had. In what way am I misusing her? Tell me and I shall attempt to rectify it, if only to soothe your mind.”
“It is not me that needs soothing. It’s the poor creature you’ve captured in your web.”
The tension in the room grew. Holmes still had no idea how to broach the subject with Watson of what he had observed. He didn’t know how to tell his only friend that it wasn’t as it had seemed to be. None of this was as it seemed.
~*~*~*~*~*
Watson POV
I was mad at Holmes for the first time in as long as I could remember. When he told me he had taken a wife in so careless a manner and with absolutely no emotion in either his voice or eyes, I longed to strike him. The man had no clue what he could to do to those around him, how he could harm them and it was fast becoming obvious that he cared not to learn of it.
A woman Holmes called her but the pale vision who joined us on the train was little more than a child. Her head was no higher than my shoulders yet there was age in her eyes. She wore what was obviously a new dress of dove gray and white with a hat and gloves to match.
“Don’ think ‘arshly of ‘im, Doctor,” said she while Holmes was absent on a errand. “Mr. ‘olmes saved me. ‘e did no ‘arm me.”
“You say that now,” replied I, “But you have not long known him. He will never be able to give you the things you desire. How could your father allow this to happen?”
She smiled at me and yet I noticed her eyes did not lose their sadness. “Mr. ‘olmes ‘ad the most money,” said she. “Da was only inte’sted in that, no me.”
“So you see, Watson, that I told you the truth,” said Holmes, closing the door behind him.
~*~*~*~*~*
Holmes sat down next to his wife and looked at his long-time friend and partner. He could see the obvious emotions playing across Watson’s handsome face and knew that he still disapproved of the wedding. Holmes leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “Watson, I do not believe you have been properly introduced,” he said. “Sandra Holmes, this is Dr. John H. Watson my boswell and friend.”
“Doctor,” Sandra muttered, looking down at her lap. Watson took a closer look at her and realized that she was really a comely youth who would grow even lovelier with age. He could see why Holmes would choose such a person to have as a reserve for cases but that didn’t mean he approved.
“Mrs. Holmes,” Watson replied, looking over at his friend.
“Please, Watson, you may address her by her first name,” Holmes said, his head dropping down upon his chest. “She’s far too young to be address in any other manner.”
“Then why the deuce did you marry her in the first place?” Watson demanded. “Holmes, she can’t be more than fourteen years old.”
“I’m fifteen,” Sandra said, not looking up. “But no ‘avin’ enou’h ta eat prob’bly makes me youn’er lookin’ th’n I am.”
Holmes looked up at his friend. “And as for the why, my dear Watson, her father was about to sell her to a man who planned to do god only knows what with her. I stepped in and saved her from that fate and she agreed to this arrangement. It is not for you to protest.”
“I think that it is for me to protest,” Watson replied. “For its obvious no one else will. Holmes, I would speak to you alone. Please excuse us, m’lady.”
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