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Returning Home	By : Leloi Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Sherlock Holmes > Slash > Slash Views: 3060 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work fiction, based on the Sherlock Holmes series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

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Unexpectedly I found the news that Mrs. Watson, loving wife of a certain Doctor John Watson had passed on. I happened on the obituary in the paper from the town of Watson’s home practice. You see I still held an interest in my dear friend even though his life had gone on without me. I knew it would… I was cruel to be kind, letting him think he had witnessed my own demise. It gave him the freedom to focus on the life he had chosen with her. It pained me, knowing that he was hurting from the loss of her. The paper did not mention how she passed on, but knowing her young age, it was obviously in childbirth. No mention was made of the child so I guessed they too were lost. My poor dear friend…

I met him when I had just finished school. For a time we were nothing more than roommate. Our interactions were limited to small talk. I was of the habit of not being too close to anyone, sparing them from suffering from my daunting companionship. Watson’s infiltration into my barriers began quietly and subversively, coming on gradually over time until I found myself actively seeking him out, enjoying his presence. I found his mood affected mine. His queries helped me think, kept me interested in the case or in life. I often found myself endeared by his concern for me even though I felt that concern misplaced.

As I have said his place in my life came on gradually. In time I began to crave his attention. As Watson often claimed in his stories, I indeed am a narcissist. His interest in me and my life fed that. I wanted to please him… to have him find me the cleverest of all so that he would always look at me with the delight I had gotten so used to seeing on his face.

Over time he had become a part of me. I don’t speak of love. Love is a foolish, fanciful thing best left to poets. Besides how is it that you can love your arm or your foot? No… his life was more closely linked than that. Often we called it “intimate friend” and he was by far the most intimate with me than I have ever been with any living soul. He understood me and guided me, trying to make me a better human. I had grown weary of the world but he would make sure I got up in the morning and continued on regardless because he wanted me to BE in the world along with himself. That would be cheapened to call it something as trivial as “love.”

Delight in his eyes… I often observed the way he would watch me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I sometimes thought of a schoolboy crush the way he would secretly watch my every move… like he couldn’t get enough of the sight of me. Often I moved just to excite him.

But he married.

With one single sentence he completely crushed my opinions of his nature. And it was painful to hear. I had been so certain that he would always follow me with enthusiastic passion. Of course it was my own fault for never telling him how much he meant to me but as I mentioned I very well couldn’t say “I love you” since the word was insignificant. I knew it was just a matter of time before he transferred his schoolboy affections to her. And he did. Even the drugs couldn’t numb me from the pain, watching him pack up his belongings and leaving as if it was the most natural thing to do. I lost a piece of myself when he left. We grew apart, not being able to keep in contact every day. I let it degenerate. Occasionally I would whisk him away with some affair… and it was an affair at least on my part… and he would gladly join me, rekindling his fondness for me. Then I would let him return to his wife. I daresay it may have been my own doing that Watson would return reinvigorated for her. But as much as my attention may be an aphrodisiac I knew it was cruel to force him to live between the two of us.

When the opportunity came to step out of the relationship I took it. I let the other half of my soul believe that I had been killed rather than force him to choose between his two loves. With Mrs. Watson lay a normal life as a respected doctor. There would be a house, warm meals and children. With me lay a dangerous life. I couldn’t in all conscience take him away from his wife and future children, possibly getting him maimed or killed by my own foolhardiness. I had to let him go.

I had every intention of reappearing in his life after suitable time had passed in which his heart forgot me… perhaps when his children were born. He would be well and truly hers then. But that was not to be. The realization came when I read her obituary and I knew my dearest friend was now alone. I left him to fill the mourning period. No lingering grief or my presence being “too soon.”

I didn’t exactly plan our reunion, but I had been tempting fate for a while, hoping for some innocuous encounter. Using one of my disguises helped facilitate it. To say Watson was overjoyed is an understatement. With almost indecent delight he begged to know where I had been and what I had been up to. Of course I kept from him certain details, knowing how much he would worry if he had known. I made no mention on how much I had consumed in drugs or how many weeks I spent moping.

It seemed his schoolboy crush wasn’t nearly as stifled as I thought it would be. It quickly sparked the moment he laid eyes on me and fainted. He was mine again.

Later that night we sat together back at our apartment as if no time had passed. Both of us held a glass of whiskey, sipping and recounting old times. It grew late and we both headed to bed.

^.<

An hour later I lay in bed, thinking of our reunion and how easily it had been to fall back on our old friendship. And this time he was without his dear Mrs. Watson. Alone in the world, save for me, he was eager to return to his bachelor ways and environs. I had lost him but he had returned… my dear Watson.

I got up and left my room, going to his. His door was unlocked and I carefully opened it so as not to waken him too suddenly. It is never wise to startle a man with a revolver. I made my way to the side of his bed. Startled, he woke, sitting up on his side. “Holmes… what is it? What time is it?”

“Much earlier than you would expect, my dearest Watson. It is a mere hour after we both went to bed.”

“What is it you want?” He asked, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes.

I sat down on his bed, feeling my weight displace the mattress. “I wanted to tell you… I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“You already told me that when you first saw me.” Watson yawned, lying back on the pillow.

I knew I had but it was the best introduction for my topic. “I know. May I inquire what happened?”

“What do you deduce?”

“I shall not burden you with my mode of thinking but I will say… childbirth.”

“You would be correct…” Watson replied, staring up at the ceiling. “The child died too.”

“I had deduced as much.” I replied and stretched out on the bed beside him. “For that I am also sorry for your loss. You would have been a dedicated father, Watson. I believe that.”

“Thank you, Holmes. We had been so happy and then… it was one of the worst experiences of my life. Just in the course of a year I had lost my dearest friend, my beloved wife and my only child. I was decimated.” Quickly he wiped a stray tear from his eyes. I did not wish to cause him pain but he had to know of my concern for him.

“I understand the loss of a dear friend…” I began but I was quickly interrupted.

“You? You, Holmes? You faked your own death to leave me!” Watson grew indignant.

“I was referring to your wedding announcement… when I lost you as a roommate and constant companion.”

“I wasn’t aware.” Watson replied quietly.

“A part of myself was removed. My dear Watson…” Absently I reached out and pushed a tendril of his hair from his brow. “I had never experienced such profound a loss.” His eyes were upon me. I could see them in the faint light of the moon.

“Holmes… I didn’t know. You should have said something.”

“How would one speak such a thing?” I replied hastily. “But it was my worst regret that I never told you how much I needed you before you left.” My hand grazed his cheek. “But you left me to live a proper doctor’s life, that which was expected of you to live. What concern had you of your most intimate friend’s affections?”

“Affections, Holmes?” Watson looked surprised.

I leaned in to lie face to face with him. The warmth of his breath fanned my face. I took in his scent, my mind spinning out where he had been and what he had been doing just based on his scent. My lips brushed his hastily before I pulled away. His mustache ticked my upper lip.

Watson blinked at me in the moonlight. The shadows made it difficult to read his features. Quickly he sat up, fingers to his lips and he trembled slightly.

Quickly I thought on how to explain myself. Plato’s Symposium came to mind. “Long ago” I whispered, watching Watson wordlessly watch me, “humans had two heads… with four arms and four legs. There were three kinds… one like two females, one like two males and a third like a male and female.” Gently I pulled his hand from his lips and entangled our fingers together. I was glad he did not pull them away. “But they were ambitious and tried to get too close to paradise. Zeus grew angry but he didn’t wish to destroy them. He punished them by slicing them in half. So humans are now fated to go in search of their other half… the part they lost. They try and put themselves back together.”

“That’s from the Symposium...” Watson breathed.

I smiled, amused that he recognized it. “My other half...” I reached out and gently touched his jaw. “My better half…” I chuckled a bit at the cleverness.

“Soul mates, Holmes? Do you really believe in such a thing?” Watson finally looked away shyly.

“Does it matter?” I countered, my hand tightening on his. “But yes… I lost a part of myself and I’m eager to have it returned for I feel incomplete without it.” The other hand continued to caress his cheek before I wrapped it around his neck, pulling him towards me. I met his lips with my own, tasting his mouth which held a trace of whiskey. His tongue rolled against mine and it filled me with a delightful shiver. I lay back on the bed, guiding him atop me. His body was shorter but thicker, more masculine than my own. My hand trailed down his back to pull at the hem of his nightshirt, allowing it to gather at his waist so his lower half was exposed.

“Holmes…” He moaned against my lips.

“If you wish to rejoin with me it would be best if we both removed our nightshirts.” I replied, pulling his up over his shoulders. Watson fumbled with my own shirt, hastily discarding it. How often had I felt his solid, warm body against my own? But this was the first we came skin to skin. I wrapped my legs around his, encouraging him to benefit the most from our union.

“No Holmes… you should be the one to...” He tried to argue. But, of course, I often win our arguments.

“Nonsense! I initiated it. Besides I am ready for your return, indeed most eager.” I kissed him deeply to reassure him. Of course I had never had reason to share myself in quite that capacity before.

Not that I was a complete innocent to the pleasures of the flesh. Two bored schoolboys can relieve some boredom with a hand or a mouth. But the act that made two into one was always somewhat taboo. That and I had no eagerness to have a sore backside… until Watson. Over time with our growing intimacy I found myself wondering what it would be like to give myself over to him. Essentially he was my first and I found that to be significant considering how dear he had become to me.

Watson reached down and gently applied his doctor touch to me. It hurt but I accepted the pain for his sake. I was careful to hide the discomfort I felt. “We can stop now… or we can just use our mouths.” Watson offered helpfully.

“Dr. John Watson…” I smiled up at him using all of my charm. “Please put us back together.” I moved my hips so he had a better angle.

He did. I moaned feeling his manhood slowly enter me. I felt stretched and full, but also overwhelming relief. “Holmes… I don’t think I can hold back. You’re so tight… I think I’ll spend without even trying.”

“You’re so eager to finish?” I taunted him. “Surely you held out longer on your other wedding night.”

“She wasn’t YOU!” Watson grunted with his eyes closed tight, teeth biting down on his lower lip. “You are an overconfident, vain, infinitely wonderful man!” His body started to move to a slow primal rhythm.

“You flatter me, my dear Watson.” I chuckled. My hands rested on the back of his neck, fingers idly running through his well groomed hair. “I want you with me always.” My lips once again took his and I marveled at the way my words seemed to spur on his actions. Desperately he thrust into me until he was entirely spent. Muffled against my lips he gave out a sort of moan. I reached down to give myself le petit mort.

As soon as he caught his breath he raised himself on his elbow and scowled at me. “You want me with you always? How about you never fake your own death and leave me behind?” Crimson came to his face. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth but if you EVER put me through that… that… that again I shall have to leave you!”

“I am sorry.” I whispered with my hand on his cheek. “But I must point out that you started it, my dear, by running off to be married. I don’t share.” I fixed him a sort of glare to get my point across. “I won’t share you with another living soul. So if you run away it would be better that I really was dead. I can’t live without you.”

Watson turned a lovely shade of pink and looked away from the intensity of my stare. “Holmes… I love you. I’ve always loved you.” Lazily he rested his burning cheek against my chest and I ran my fingers through his perfect hair. “I know you don’t believe in love… but I do.”

“I’ll let you worry about that sort of thing.” I mused. “Trust what you feel from me… not what I say. Words are too insignificant to describe my own feelings. We don’t have to speak them, but show me. If you show me often then I will be pleased.”

“Next time you may enter me.” Watson smirked as he looked up at me.

“I trust it is undiscovered country as it was for me?” I retorted.

“Really? You were a virgin, Holmes?” He sat up to regard me.

“Knowing my mannerisms, did you really think I would let just anyone join with me?” I asked quietly.

“I suppose it would please you to know that I’ve never been with any other male.” Watson lay his head back down on my shoulder. “To be honest I never really gave it much thought until we met.”

“Nor I.” I answered with a smirk. “Of course I had little to no hope that I would ever find my compliment. I did have some schoolboy experimentation but nothing serious. I’ve always been odd, I suppose… and never cared for women as you well know.”

Watson snuggled up against me and I held him in my arms, unwilling to part from him now or ever. “Will you share my bed tonight?” He yawned, beginning to fall asleep.

“Gladly,” I replied, resting against his pillows which held his scent. “Welcome home, Watson.”

He chuckled under his breath and soon fell into a deep sleep.

--To be continued in a later chapter
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