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Sherlock Holmes and the Blackmail case	By : LadyMango Category: Titles in the Public Domain > Sherlock Holmes > Slash > Slash Views: 3075 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Sherlock Holmes is owned by Conan-Doyle. I did not make any money from this.

Chapter List
- 1-Sherlock Holmes and the Blackmail case
- 1
“Another case solved, Holmes! Truly marvellous – you impress me every time.”
Sherlock Holmes shrugged, playing at being aloof and humble but John Watson could see the pride on his face. It was in the way his lip curved upwards at the corner of his mouth and how his usually stoic face seemed to soften, even if just for a moment. Watson knew that despite the many number of times he had shown Holmes respect and wonder at his detective skills the man still absolutely loved the praise.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow thoughtfully as he looked at two men that were stood in front of him. These two Gentlemen had been blackmailed by an awful villain who was thankfully now unable to do any more harm – the collection of risqué photographs that he used to blackmail people had gone up in flames. That part of the case was over but Holmes was not finished yet, he still had to figure out what these two men had been blackmailed about and whether or not it was something that they deserved to be arrested for. They had refused to reveal the truth to Holmes or to the police and so there was still the concern that whilst they acted like the innocent victims in all this there was still something about them that had warranted them to be ordered to pay a large sum of money to their blackmailer. Watson watched Holmes as he scrutinised the men and then suddenly, as if by magic, worked out the answer. Normally when he deduced something he might smile at the very most, maybe his eyes would light up as he went on to explain his extraordinary findings but Watson was surprised and concerned when the detective’s eyes widened and a blush formed in his cheeks. Holmes turned away from the two men and seemed at a loss for a moment.
“My word, Holmes, are you quite alright?” Watson asked.
The detective nodded and quickly slid back into his usual calm and composed manner. “Quite alright, Watson. I know why these two Gentlemen were being blackmailed.”
Watson noticed that Holmes’s face still had a slight pink flush to it and he wondered what on earth these two men had done to shock Holmes so. The detective had solved cases of murder and many other heinous crimes without so much as batting an eyelid, concentrating on the facts and figures in such a way that it sometimes seemed that he had forgotten that real people were involved.
Both the men were truly terrified suddenly and one of them, a short blonde fellow was holding his top hat tightly in front of his chest in shaking hands as though to shield himself whilst the other man, quite plump and hairy, looked like a cornered animal ready to attack and Watson found his hand moving towards his revolver just in case the large man were to do something stupid, but Holmes just gave both the men a reassuring smile. “It’s quite alright, Gentlemen.” Now it Watson’s turn to have wide, surprised eyes and he wondered if maybe their crime was not so terrible after all.
Holmes turned to his friend. “Watson, would you leave the room please, I’ll meet you outside.”
“But Holmes!”
“Please John,” he ordered with a thin layer of politeness covering the sharpness of his words.
Watson nodded apprehensively, sure that Holmes knew what he was doing but still not trusting those two men and wondering what they had done. With a sigh he walked to the door and left, soon finding himself outside, full of curiosity and an uneasy feeling.
Holmes watched Watson leave and once he was sure that the doctor was out of earshot he turned back to the two men.
“And just what do you think you have figured out, Mr Detective,” the hairy man asked defensively, still not truly convinced that Holmes had learnt their secret, or at least hoping that he had not.
“That you are both in a homosexual relationship with each other and that the blackmailer had photos of you performing an illegal act which if released to the public would result in your arrest and public humiliation-”
“How dare you! Lies! What makes you think such a thing?!”
“The way you guiltily shy away from physical contact with each other when others are around and yet stand so close together when you don’t know anyone is watching, the way each of you is jealous of ladies flirting with the other, the way you look at each other, speak to each other, are so comfortable around each other, the way your breathing quickens when-”
“Enough! Stop this!”
“The list goes on and on. I know I am right. I should have figured it out earlier… it was just something I did not expect.”
“Just what are you going to do with this information? You have no proof.”
“Please do not be alarmed, I truly mean you no harm and I certainly would not reveal your true nature to anyone, with proof or without.”
“Your friend…”
“He does not know or suspect and I certainly will not tell him, nor Lestrade.”
“Thank you.” The blonde man said. “But why are you protecting us?”
Holmes was quiet for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I sympathise with you. I do not think such a relationship should be illegal let alone frowned upon. I have… similar inclinations.”
A strange light-headedness crept over Holmes and his mouth felt dry. This was not something he had ever admitted to another person and suddenly he felt very vulnerable at the knowledge that he had given them information that they could use against him, but he also felt a strange freedom and excitement, knowing that these were two people that would not think worse of him, that would understand.
Both the men looked at each other and smiled, relaxing considerably.
“How did you meet one another?” Holmes asked suddenly, “I mean, where did you find someone whom you knew would be likeminded? Someone that you knew would share your sexual attraction?”
“You are a detective… can you not detect it?” The hairy man asked bluntly.
“No, I cannot,” he said regretfully, “for all my deductive powers I can still never be entirely sure and getting it wrong is too big a risk.”
It was not just the risk of being rebuked, ridiculed, hated, nor the risk of prison. It was the risk of loosing the few friends that he had. Holmes did not make friends easily, he often found other people boring and uninspiring and he was aware that he could come across as strange and eccentric, sometimes even rude and tactless so even those that he found acceptable as an acquaintance might not feel the same about him, being unwilling to put up with his depressive slumps, odd habits or his regular use of cocaine.
Holmes’s dedication to his work left little time for friends due to the way it engulfed his life, so if someone were to enjoy assisting Holmes with his main hobby – being a consulting detective – then they were a very rare and special person indeed, especially if Holmes enjoyed their company. Holmes did not grow to care about anyone easily so when he found that he was deeply fond of someone that meant something important to him. John Watson was one of very few people that he had ever cared about and had ever grown to love, he had always found him attractive and as the years went by he realised that despite how difficult it was not to touch him, the thought of Watson leaving his side was a thousand times worse. The risk of loosing his best friend was too high a price because without Watson his days would be boring and lonely, he would miss him terribly and could not stand the thought of Watson truly despising him for something that Holmes had no control over.
Watson would leave eventually, oh he might visit, but he would have a wife, maybe even children and the responsibilities of married life. They would still see each other of course, maybe still work together on a case here and there and it was comforting to know that he could always rely on his friend. But Holmes wanted someone to spend his life with and unfortunately found that Watson was the only one that he wanted, but he knew that Watson would never give him everything he wanted. So if Holmes could find a homosexual man whose company he enjoyed and who he could learn to love, and who in return could tolerate the pros and cons of Holmes’s peculiar personality, well that would be wonderful if rare.
“We met down at the docks,” the hairy man said, giving him a knowing look.
Holmes felt somewhat disappointed. He knew what they referred to, there were male prostitutes at the docks but Holmes did not want to risk his career for a quick fumble with some scruffy man who just wanted his money. The thought of being found there by the police, maybe even Lestrade, filled him with dread. He had gone there in disguise once but been too anxious and uneasy to even go up to any of the rent boys. The few men he had seen were not very attractive to him and he found himself scrutinising them, wondering what ailments he might catch, concerned that they could be a policeman in disguise and they would rip away his disguise, instantly recognising him. It all seemed so unsavoury. He had half wished that he’d gotten drunk first or high but he had wanted to have his senses about him, had wanted to be in control so as not to do anything foolish.
“We were both johns, both looking for a good time but instead of finding it with one of the whore’s we found it with each other.” The two men grinned at each other and Holmes noticed that they were holding hands, the blonde man rubbing his thumb against the other man’s fingers lovingly.
“Holmes, you can visit us any time, you are always welcome in our house.” The blonde man’s voice suddenly quietened conspiratorially, “even in our bedroom.”
Holmes’s blush had never really vanished but now it was the deepest red. He cleared his throat, “that is a very kind offer gentlemen…”
“The offer is there if you wish it. We’ve both discussed together how pleasing to the eye you are.”
This was a dangerous game. Holmes had spent a fair amount of time around these men during this case and knew them reasonably well but he still was not sure if he could completely trust in them enough to surrender himself to them so readily. Holmes really had not expected this turn of events, for them to want to bed him. They were a couple after all, they had each other so why would they then want him in their bed as well when they seemed so happy together? Holmes was reminded that he really was naive when it came to matters of the flesh but he wasn’t sure a threesome was quite what he had been looking for. Oh god, he was tempted though.
Holmes kept thinking of Watson, waiting outside for him loyally, never suspecting what they were discussing. What would Watson say if he knew what was going on in this room? If he knew how aroused he was right now?
Holmes couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing across their bodies, he had wondered for such a long time what it would be like to have sex with another man and now the opportunity was right here in front of him. It couldn’t be easier. One of the men in particular, the blonde, was quite attractive to Holmes. He was slightly younger than himself with a strong, toned figure and a cheeky smile. He wondered what it would be like to touch him and to be touched by him in return.
And suddenly he found out. Holmes’s hungry eyes said it all and the blonde could see that the detective wanted him and so he reached forward and wrapped a hand around the back of his neck before leaning forward and kissing him.
Holmes pulled away, but only after a good few seconds. “Watson is waiting for me…”
“Are you free tomorrow for lunch here?” the plump, hairy man asked. Holmes knew they were offering him more than just lunch. “We’ll be alone. Just us,” the blonde added. Yes, Positively more than just lunch and it didn’t take a detective to figure that one out.
Holmes nodded. They could sense his hesitancy, could tell that he was in two minds about their offer, but they could also tell that he wanted to. “Perhaps.”
“Remember, you are welcome here any time. Even if you only want to talk. Okay?”
Holmes smiled. “I appreciate that. I’ll see myself out. Thank you, Gentlemen.” The second he was out in the hall and completely alone he let out a long, shaky breath and pressed his hands against his face, his skin felt hot and he knew his cheeks were still red. He grunted with irritation and hoped Watson would not notice.
He stepped outside, thankful for the cool air against his face and the waning light of the late evening knowing that the approaching dark would hide his somewhat dishevelled appearance from his friend. He climbed up into the Hansom cab where Watson was already sat waiting for him.
“Holmes, I-”
“Not now, Watson I’m trying to think.”
Usually that was enough. Watson respected Holmes’s need to think, seemed in awe almost, wondering what grand mysteries were being unravelled in that head of his. But Watson seemed ready to burst. Fidgeting and constantly glancing across at Holmes until finally he appeared to give up and settled quietly. Whatever was on his mind it could wait, hopefully for when Holmes had regained his composure and his brain power. He suspected Watson wanted to ask about what the two men had done, wanted to voice his own theories but Holmes did not want to talk about those men with Watson, especially right now. At the moment, he could only concentrate on one thing, and his body was making that abundantly clear. He crossed his legs to hide the bulge in his trousers away from Watson.
They carried on in silence whilst Holmes stared out of the window until finally, they arrived at Baker Street and Holmes leapt out of the horse drawn carriage seconds before it had come to a complete stop. Watson’s brow creased with concern and he followed the detective to their house. When Watson got in their front door Holmes had already thrown off his overcoat and was presently kicking off his shoes.
“Holmes, why don’t we sit down and have a bit of a smoke-”
“No, thank you, Watson. I need to get an early night.” Holmes replied marching off to his bedroom.
Watson watched his retreating back and sighed as he flopped down onto the sofa. He had really wanted to talk to his friend. He was almost tempted to go in there and drag him back out again. He really needed to discuss what had happened whilst he had been waiting outside for Holmes.
Watson had been on the gravel drive of the house leaning impatiently against the wall, desperate to know what was being discussed in there and wondering why he was not included. It was true that Holmes often failed to keep him up to date on his findings at the time but he would always tell him in the end. Now Watson felt as though Holmes was not even going to tell him at all. The detective always had a reason for everything he did and Watson was sure there was a reason for excluding him but he could not think what it was.
A determined look crossed his face. What if Holmes was in danger and trying to keep Watson at a distance to protect him? Or what if Holmes was just being overconfident and had underestimated these so called victims? Watson tried to go back inside but the servants had closed the door and would not let him in. Watson’s fears grew and he ran around the side of the house through the big, green garden. He remembered that there had been french doors in that room and big ceiling-to-floor windows and so maybe he could keep an eye on Holmes and those men, even force his way in if his friend was in danger. He would just feel better for seeing that Holmes was safe but even as he ran across the grass he wasn’t sure he should be spying. Holmes had to have a reason for telling him to leave, he often told Watson to do something and it was only afterwards that Watson would realise why. Holmes had been very firm with him to wait outside… but then he was still outside, was he not?
He looked through the window and felt his stomach tighten up. One of the men was right in front of Holmes and had grabbed hold of him by the neck. At first glance Watson thought his friend was being attacked and was all set to go leaping in there all guns blazing but then realised that the man was kissing Holmes. Watson froze to the spot, suddenly feeling shocked and confused. He was unsure if Holmes was a willing participant but as he watched them it became clear to him that Holmes was very willing indeed. Watson still wanted to go in there and stop them, jealously gripped him as he watched somebody else doing to Holmes what he had wanted to do for a very long time. But there was also a shred of hope. He had never dared to believe that Holmes was attracted to men although the thought had crossed his mind many times. Holmes had shown that he was unprejudiced and accepting of interracial couples something that was frowned upon almost as much as homosexuality – Watson had written about it, naming the story, ‘The Adventure of the Yellow Face,’ and therefore wondered if Holmes might be open-minded in other ways too. But in all honesty Watson had not thought that the man was interested in sex at all, that he truly was married to his work. He’d never expressed desire towards anyone, female or otherwise. Holmes had told him ‘I am not a whole-souled admirer of womankind,’ and that he had an ‘aversion to women.’ Oh, he’d been fascinated by Irene Adler but it was clear to Watson that it was about respecting an equal rather than having a sexual desire for her – she had been one of very few people that had ever managed to outsmart him. Holmes had never been easy to understand and Watson had begun to wonder if he might even be asexual, something which Watson would not mind at all, as it would probably mean he’d never have to enviously watch Holmes form a romantic relationship with someone other than himself and yet here was Holmes getting French kissed by a man. It was difficult to watch him being so intimate with someone else but at the same time Watson was excited by the prospect of Holmes being homosexual and maybe even being attracted to him.
Holmes pulled away, stepping back and Watson could see the confusion and lust written all over his face. Holmes walked out of the room and Watson quickly turned on his heal and ran, not stopping until he was sat in the hansom cab.
Watson had wanted to say something about what he had seen whilst they were both in the hansom but Holmes made it very clear that he was not in the mood for talking and Watson respected that, even if it was hard to keep quiet after what he had just witnessed. But finally Watson decided that it would be best to wait until they were back at home where there would be much better privacy. He wondered what was going through Holmes’s mind right now, how he felt about that man kissing him. Watson wondered if Holmes and those men had done more than just kiss during the short time those three had known each other but from Holmes’s flustered and confused face as well as his awkward demeanour after he had pulled away from the blonde, Watson suspected that Holmes had been caught off guard and it was probably the first time they had kissed, nothing more. Watson glanced across at Holmes who was staring out of the window distractedly, his eyebrows crinkled together and Watson wondered what he was thinking.
During the journey home, Watson came up with a plan. He would sit Holmes down under the pretence of smoking together and then tell him exactly what he had seen. He would let him know that he certainly thought no less of him for it and then confess to his own desires, giving Holmes a choice, those men or himself. He knew he would be devastated if Holmes turned him down but he had to take that risk, at least he knew now that Holmes would empathise with his being attracted to men and would not be horrified by it, as was the common reaction among their society.
But when they reached their home they had barely walked through the door before Holmes had hidden himself away in his room and Watson realised with a sigh that he was not going to be able to talk to him until tomorrow at the earliest.
He sat down on the sofa with his head in his hands. He had really wanted to get this over and done with, it was all he could think about now and he suspected that he would never get a wink of sleep tonight. His chest felt tight at the though of finally revealing his feelings and of confronting Holmes with what he had seen. He grabbed a random book that was sat on the table. It was titled, ‘Tropical plants and flowers,’ and he was certain it was one of Holmes’s books but he started to read it anyway, trying his best to distract himself and hoping that Holmes would come back out eventually but after an hour Watson gave up and went to bed, hoping to get at least a little bit of rest.
Holmes’s head was spinning around in circles as he tried to come up with solutions and answers for a subject that he did not fully comprehend. For once he was unsure of what to do next, whether he should take those men up on their offer. His brain kept going over the same trains of thought, as though it believed that he could figure this out if he tried hard enough, after all, he usually did. But this time he just wanted his mind to stop. He flopped down on his back in his bed and massaged his temples with his fingers. Unable to keep still he sat up again, rubbed his forehead distractedly then shrugged off his jacket and pulled off his tie, flinging both to the floor. He then leant down over the side of his bed and rooted around underneath until he came back up with a leather case. He flipped it open, revealing the syringe that he liked to use for injecting a cocaine solution. He’d found that if he left it lying around the house then Watson would hide it because he disapproved of and worried about Holmes’s habit. Holmes would always find it again with little difficulty of course, he was a detective after all. At first it amused him: it was like a new mystery in it’s own right, ‘the case of the missing syringe’ but to do away with the inconvenience of having to hunt for it every single time he had chosen to keep it in his room. He was always somewhat disappointed to find that Watson hadn’t located it though, except on this occasion he was glad not to have to waste time looking for it, he needed the drug to distract him from the day’s events and to help him calm his nerves.
Holmes undid the button of his cuff and then pushed his sleeve up his arm. He pulled off his belt and tied it around his upper arm then he squeezed his fist tightly until his veins became pronounced. He wiped at his chosen area with an alcohol solution to clean it before gently pushing the needle through his skin. He pressed down on the plunger and then, a few moments later he had removed the syringe and placed it beside the leather pouch on his bedside table along with his belt before flopping back down in his bed and letting his eyes flutter closed, waiting for the sense of well-being to wash over him and distract him from his big decisions. He was lying on his back waiting for the high to kick in and when it did he let out a thankful sigh. He still kept thinking about those two men’s offer and about Watson but it didn’t feel quite so real or serious anymore. Everything would be okay. He smiled contentedly.
Images of the two men flashed before his closed eyes and the memory of being kissed took forefront in his mind. He chuckled quietly to himself at the memory and then his cheeks reddened as he wondered about what other things those men would want to do to him if he were to go back. Suddenly he realised with a strange calmness that he would be unable to resist the urge to go there. His curiosity was too strong and it was in his very nature to learn and discover as much about anything new and stimulating as he could. An excitement washed over him and he wondered what would happen when he went there for lunch the next day because suddenly he felt sure that he would go. He had wanted to feel another man’s touch for so long - now he was lucky enough to have two men come along at the same time! He chuckled to himself again, slightly louder than last time and with just a hint of lust audible too. He quickly pressed his hand over his mouth, glancing over at the door, wondering if Watson had heard him, yet sure he could not have through the closed door and thick walls. His mind went back to those two flirtatious men, they could give him what he had wanted for so long and suddenly he thought, to hell with the risks, I’ve waited long enough and he promised himself that he would have sex tomorrow if it was the last thing he did.
His slender fingers pressed down at the bulge in his trousers and he let out a long sigh, shifting and squirming in the bed under his own touch. Suddenly his clothes felt too tight and constricting and he pulled his trousers and underwear down his legs, pulling his socks off too. The clothing tumbled, forgotten, to the floor. The cool cotton of his shirt still hid his erection although it was obvious by the way it pulled at the white material. He undid the buttons of his waistcoat and pulled it from his body throwing it to the side before unbuttoning his shirt and allowing each side to part revealing his bare chest and his erection, standing big and pink.
His mouth opened and he moaned quietly as his hand found it’s way down his body and he stroked at his cock with his fingers. His other hand hovered over his face and he pressed at his lips with his fingertips, remembering what it had felt like to be kissed earlier that very day. He felt hot suddenly and his shirt felt sticky and very much in the way. He squirmed and shifted his shoulders as he twisted his torso, struggling to remove the shirt from his body without using both hands. He did not want to stop touching himself, and was irritated when he eventually had to use both hands to remove the clothing properly but his hand soon fell back desperately against his cock, wrapping eagerly around the shaft and he found himself imagining it was the blonde man doing it with his mouth, he imagined what it would be like to suck the plump man’s cock and suddenly Holmes’s fingers were in his mouth and he was licking at them. He groaned and then allowed his saliva dampened hand to move down and grip his erection, pumping it as his other hand squeezed his balls. He groaned, speeding up the movements on his erection and bit his lip as his breath quickened and he found himself getting closer and closer to climax. The hand that was cupping his balls moved up and stroked the base of his cock and then slid upwards along his length whilst the hand that he had been using to pump himself reached down and squeezed his buttocks, digging short fingernails into his soft skin before a saliva and pre-cum coated digit poked inside of himself. He bit his lip, his eyes tightly closed and his hand pumping his erection with firm, steady movements. He imagined those two men doing all sorts of wicked things to him and imagined doing all manner of things right back to them as he tried to conjure images to make himself cum. He could feel it building up deep inside of him, he was almost there, and then suddenly images of Watson took over his imagination and he pictured himself being pressed down into the bed with John’s face peering down at him and Holmes came into his hand with a desperate moan. His mouth hung open and his breath was heavy as he turned onto his side, he reached to his bedside table and grabbed a handkerchief to clean his hands and his body. He lay back down in his bed, his eyes closed, hoping to fall asleep but he didn’t feel tired. After a short while his naked body started to feel a bit cold, he opened his eyes and searched for his pyjamas, pulling them on before nipping to the bathroom and then finally climbing back into bed under his covers but he still could not get to sleep. Holmes sat up with a sigh. It was hopeless, his brain was still running a mile a minute and he decided to blame it on the cocaine. He climbed out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown then started to sort through some papers and books in his room. He tidied his floor up a bit then went into the living area where he started to organise some case notes, sorting them into piles. He gathered together the books that he had been using as research and found that one was missing, it was titled ‘Tropical plants and flowers.’ He looked under the sofa and then straightened up with a sigh. Watson must have taken it into his room to read. Holmes certainly hadn’t moved it and Mrs Hudson had not been in here since he had last seen it. Watson had clearly been sat on the sofa, apparent from the indents in the seat and the way the cushions were arranged – just how the doctor liked them. Watson’s favourite bookmark had vanished from the table suggesting that he had been reading and as no books in the near vicinity had bookmarks in them Holmes deduced that Watson had taken the book to his room to read. Upon approaching the doctor’s room Holmes knew that Watson had finished reading and gone to sleep – his light had been switched off.
It was not strictly necessary to retrieve the book right now but Holmes was going to see this through to the end. There were several ways he could play this. Shout through the door? Knock on the door? Both were perfectly valid ways of gaining entry to the room in order to retrieve his property. Or he could just do what he usually did and just barge his way in there. Watson never woke up whenever he did that anyway. He reminisced for a moment on the number of times he’s needed to wake Watson up in the morning and had done so by hovering beside his bed. Admittedly, it did take Holmes a while to get around to the waking-him-up part, and true, he could have shouted his name from the doorway once he was in the room but no, he has to stand right by the bed, it was such a nice place to be, after all, with a remarkable view of his sleeping Watson. This time waking him up was not required, he would just walk in and grab the book then get out again. If the journey to the book brought him right up to Watson’s bed then that was not his fault.
Holmes opened the door, leaving it ajar so some of the lamplight from the hall would shine in and he could see the room a bit better. His eyes went immediately to Watson’s bedside table, the most likely place for the book and indeed there it was with a bookmark sticking out of the pages. Holmes went across the room and stood by Watson’s bedside, picking up the book and tucking it under his arm. Instead of turning back around and walking out of the room as he knew he really should, he continued to stand, turning slightly to get a better view of the doctor. Watson was sprawled on his back, fast asleep, his bed sheets twisted up around his waist and his stripy pyjama shirt had twisted up around his chest revealing his stomach. Holmes’s eyes were transfixed by the bared skin.
Holmes wondered how many times Watson had awoken to find him stood there with the excuse of waking him up so that they could go on a case. Holmes had wondered if he was being too obvious or if Watson found it a bit creepy but the doctor had never said anything to suggest that he disapproved. The doctor had mentioned it in his stories, written of how he would awaken to find Holmes at his bedside but he had always made it sound like it was perfectly acceptable behaviour. Holmes had a dream once where he had walked into Watson’s room and found him in there masturbating. He thought about that dream now and his erection came back. Holmes was just starting to think that he should really leave now when he looked up from Watson’s naked stomach to his face and was shocked to see that the doctor’s eyes were open.
“Holmes?” Watson asked tiredly.
Holmes suddenly couldn’t think of what to say.
“Are you okay?” Watson asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes then looking across at his friend with concern.
Holmes nodded and lifted up the book by way of an explanation. “I just came in to get this.”
Watson’s eyes went from the book to Holmes’s face and his eyebrows shot upwards. “Oh, Sherlock Holmes! You’re on the bloody cocaine again! Don’t give me that look, I’m a doctor I can tell! How many times-”
“It relaxes me! Stops my thoughts from spinning around in my head-”
“Same old excuses,” Watson muttered, but his irritation had gone. “Sit down, Holmes. I need to talk to you.”
I only came in here to rescue my book,” Holmes said, waving it accusingly, “It’s too late for talking.”
Not to late for walking though, clearly.” Watson sighed and flopped back down in his bed. “Fine. Tomorrow then. I’ll organise lunch and we can talk then.”
“I’m having lunch with…” Holmes trailed off.
“Who?” Watson asked, quickly sitting up again but Holmes didn’t reply. “It’s those two men isn’t it? Listen Holmes, it’s them I need to talk to you about.”
Holmes really didn’t want to have this conversation and was annoyed at himself for having been caught off guard and accidently giving away his lunch plans so freely, maybe he could blame it on the cocaine and on the fact that he was still aroused. He could not concentrate properly.
“I don’t want to talk to you about them.” Holmes said to the doctor. “It is none of your business. Detective/victim confidentiality-”
“First of all, Detective/victim what? It’s Doctor/Patient confidentiality or it doesn’t work! It’s not the same thing!” Watson pointed a finger at Holmes, and tried to get back on track. “Anyway, I saw you with those two men, I was in the garden to make sure you were okay-
“What? Watson, I told you to leave us in peace!”
“I saw him kiss you.”
“Oh god.” Holmes whispered under his breath. “Watson...”
“It’s okay,” Watson quickly reassured him. “I certainly don’t think any the worse of you, Holmes.”
Holmes had taken heed of Watson’s earlier suggestion and sat down on the edge of the bed. He looked sidelong at the doctor apprehensively.
Watson leaned closer to him. “Holmes… they were being blackmailed for being homosexual, weren’t they? I’ll never reveal their secret to anyone.”
Holmes nodded. “I did not expect them to proposition me. They caught me off guard.”
“And you liked it? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
Holmes chuckled nervously. Watson was showing far more tolerance and understanding than Holmes had ever expected and yet his stomach twisted at the thought of the doctor learning of his homosexuality. “I appreciate your discretion, Watson, but I can assure you there is nothing to be discreet about. They just caught me off guard. It is certainly not something I wish to happen again.”
Holmes watched Watson, fearing that it was plain to the Doctor that he had enjoyed being kissed and that was why he was planning to take lunch with the men.
“Holmes, you know that I am your closest friend and I care deeply about your happiness and well-being. If you want to pursue some kind of relationship with those men then I certainly won’t stop you. But please, before you decide, I want you to know that anything you can get from them you can get from me instead.”
Holmes raised an eyebrow and looked at Watson suspiciously. “I don’t think you understand what you are offering…”
“I can assure you I do,” said Watson confidently. “Are you attracted to me Holmes?”
Holmes stared at him, he couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth. He felt that Watson did not really mean or fully understand what he was implying. Holmes was scared his tone would deceive him if he attempted to lie and deny his attraction to the doctor so he just shook his head and stared at the floor.
Watson could tell from Holmes’s body language that he was lying. Holmes refused to meet his gaze and looked somewhat ashamed. Watson’s hand reached out and touched the detective’s shoulder and as Holmes stared at it with surprise he was caught off guard yet again. Watson was kneeling in the bed and his free hand went up to steady Holmes’s face as he leant forward and kissed the detective ever so lightly on the lips. Holmes could feel the tickle of Watson’s moustache against him and then Watson pulled away again, studying the other man’s reaction carefully.
“Oh my.” Holmes whispered, the look of shock on his face quickly turning to one of pleasure. He turned his body towards Watson and pulled his legs up onto the bed before leaning towards his friend and kissing him again. This time the kiss was deeper and Watson’s tongue found it’s way into Holmes’s mouth.
Watson’s hands were clinging tightly onto the back of Holmes’s dressing gown, pulling the other man closer to him. Watson was still kneeling in the bed, pushing himself up onto his knee’s which made him tower over Holmes who was still sat with his legs folded and pulled up to one side of him, forcing the detective to tilt his face upwards as they kissed. Watson’s finger’s stroked at Holmes’s bared neck and soon his mouth made it’s way down towards Holmes’s throat, stopping briefly to lay kisses along his jawline before setting about sucking and licking at his neck. Holmes was breathing deeply and let out a little gasp as Watson pushed him gently down onto his back in the bed. Watson lay over him, kissing at his mouth hungrily again as Holmes’s hands wrapped around the doctor’s back and pushed his pyjama-shirt up his torso, slipping his hands under the material and caressing his broad shoulders. They pulled apart, breaking the kiss and breathing deeply, grinning at each other in the pale light from the open door. Holmes’s hands moved between them and he unfastened Watson’s shirt buttons before pulling the doctor’s top away from him. Watson’s fingers made light work of the loosely tied knot of the belt of Holmes’s dressing gown and he parted the robe then quickly undid the buttons of Holmes’s pyjama shirt revealing his bare chest. Watson gazed at his friend’s bared skin and ran his fingers across Holmes’s bare chest and stomach before laying back down over the other man’s body and covering Holmes’s mouth yet again with his own. Their bare chests rubbed together, feeding their excitement, the proof of which was in the way their erections pressed against each other, only separated by the layers of their pyjama bottoms. Holmes’s hand’s were at the small of Watson’s back, suddenly they moved down, rubbing the material that covered the other man’s round buttocks, then his fingers moved up slightly and ducked under the waistband, kneading the soft flesh and pulling the trousers downwards. Watson’s cock popped free of his pyjama’s and he grunted into Holmes’s mouth before grabbing hold of Holmes’s own pyjama bottoms and yanking them down his legs. Both men moaned as their erections rubbed together, unhindered by any clothing. Watson’s hand moved in-between them and he grabbed hold of both of their cock’s, squeezing them tightly together, stroking them, and rocking his own hips to increase the friction, making Holmes writhe and push his hips upwards in response. Watson pulled back slightly and his hand released it’s grip as their cocks moved apart. The doctor was panting and staring down at Holmes’s big, hard erection, wanting to memorise the sight of it. His finger’s stroked up and down the length of it and then he gripped the shaft tightly in his fist and started to pump it. He looked up at Holmes whose head was tilted back with his mouth wide open and his eyes half-lidded as he gasped for breath. It made Watson smile to know that he had this effect on him. Watson shifted backwards in the bed slightly and then licked his lips before ducking his head down and pressing his parted mouth against the other man’s aching cock, his tongue flicked out, teasing the flesh and then he opened his mouth wider and started to bob his head up and down in the other man’s lap. Holmes drew in a sharp breath as Watson sucked on his cock. He looked down at the other man and had to resist the urge to rock his hips, not wanting to make Watson choke. Holmes’s hand reached across and stroked Watson’s hair making the other man glance upwards at him, still with his mouth full, and Holmes whimpered at the sight of him on his hands and knees with his face buried against the detective’s groin.
“John… please… let me pleasure you too,” Holmes demanded.
Watson eagerly complied, he kicked his pyjamas completely free from his legs then lay down beside Holmes. He was laying down on his side with his own face next to the other man’s groin, he grabbed hold of Holmes’s waist before licking at the length of Holmes’s cock and pulling it into his mouth. Watson moaned around the shaft in his mouth as Holmes rubbed his fingers in the precum at the head of Watson’s cock and Holmes’s tongue teased his erection. Holmes turned fully onto his side and wrapped his lips around Watson’s cock, using his hand to alternate between fondling the doctor’s balls and teasing the base of his cock. Holmes could feel Watson’s tongue moving against his erection as the man sucked at him, and Holmes tried to copy him, wanting to make Watson feel as good as he was making him feel. Watson made a blissful sound that spurred Holmes on even more and he quickened his movements, desperately sucking as though he were starving for it. Holmes moaned urgently and pushed his feet against the bed frantically, his legs were still tied together by a tangle of clothing. Holmes could feel himself getting closer and closer to release and moaned as he sucked Watson’s cock whilst having his own member fervently pleasured. He only managed to get out a few words of warning before orgasm gripped him, but Watson continued to suck at him and even after Holmes had finished Watson continued to lick away the last of his seed. The doctor allowed the other man’s cock to slip from his mouth and he licked away a trail of cum from the corner of his lips as he turned to look at Holmes, who was leaning on his side with his dressing gown pulled down over one shoulder along with his unbuttoned shirt revealing his bare arm and chest. Panting, Watson watched Holmes suck, lick and mouth at his aching cock. The doctor reached across and touched Holmes’s shoulder and neck then ran his fingers through the detective’s dark and dishevelled hair, un-tidying it even further. Holmes moaned around Watson’s cock as the man stroked his arm, neck and hair, the resulting reverberations around the Doctor’s cock feeling so good mixed in with the other sensations on his cock that Watson found himself moaning right back.
“Ahh… Sherlock… I’m almost there. Oh god.”
Holmes pulled away slightly as Watson came, keeping pressure on the other man’s balls and the base of his cock with his hands as he tried to do what Watson had done for him. He kept his mouth around the head of the doctor’s erection, keeping the pressure tight around him and lapped at the cum with his tongue, intrigued by the new flavour and getting used to the feeling of having a man cum into his mouth for the first time.
Watson lay flat on his back, panting with exhaustion as Holmes released his cock from his mouth, lapped up a few last droplets before turning around towards Watson and laying down next to him so that they were laying face to face. Holmes was gasping for breath too and they were both unable to say anything for a moment and instead they just grinned at each other.
“You know Watson, I’ll definitely take you up your on your offer of lunch tomorrow. It would be my pleasure,” Holmes said, stroking the other man’s arm.
Watson’s smile grew, knowing that the detective wanted to spend lunch with him instead of those two gentlemen. “I’m glad,” he said, and moved closer to the detective.
“I won’t be seeing those men again,” Holmes assured him. His hand moved to stroke Watson’s hair. “Do you mind if I sleep in your bed tonight?”
“Not at all, old chap.”
Holmes smiled and pulled off his already dishevelled dressing gown and they both climbed under the covers together.
The end.
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Sherlock Holmes and the Blackmail case