This is Different
"Well, this is different…" I grumbled when I had found a highly intoxicated Dr. John Watson lying on the doorstep of 221B Baker Street. It was the middle of the night and I was just about to retire to my bedroom when I heard a ruckus outside the front window. My curiosity drove me to investigate, and what did I see? None other than my former flat-mate John Watson stumbling about. I was quite unaccustomed to such behavior from Watson, so I rushed down the stairs, momentarily forgetting about our squabble over Mary.
Watson had moved in with Mary after their wedding nearly two months ago. Since then I had been dealing with cases alone. But, this didn't bother me nearly as much as the fact that I did everything alone nowadays. I desperately missed having Watson around, not only for cases, but to talk to as well. Watson was my best friend, and I wanted him back. But, of course I had told Watson nothing of the sort, for I do not talk about my feelings. I simply shiver at the thought of doing so.
A low groan brought me out of my musing, as I looked down upon the seemingly lifeless form of my friend. I am not one for niceties so I nudged Watson in the side with my boot. This however received no response. Sighing audibly, I bent down and lifted the barely conscious form of Watson up over my shoulder, and carried him upstairs to my bedroom where I lay him gently down onto the bed. I sat on the side looking at my friend.
I watched him as he muttered quietly, too quietly for me to hear. As I looked down upon Watson, I simply watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the light fluttering of his eyelids, and the red tint in his cheeks. I reached out to brush the side of Watson's face lightly, letting my need overcome me. I needed Watson, and I needed him now. My fingers gently traced down to Watson's jaw, whose eyes shot open. I pulled away, embarrassed at being caught. But, Watson did something unexpected; he looked deliberately into my eyes and grabbed my hand, pulling it to his cheek where he held it.
Although delighted by the response, I narrowed my eyes in concern and suspicion. "Why are you here?" I asked quietly. There was a long pause in which Watson simply looked up at me with his dilated eyes, all the while holding my hand firmly to his cheek. "I was wrong." was all he replied. I sighed and said "I realize you are drunk Watson, but you're going to have to articulate as to what you are talking about."
"Mary, I'm talking about Mary, Holmes. I tried to run from… you. I tried, I tried so damn hard to run from you, but it didn't work… It doesn't work, and now I realize that it will never work. I've just had a row with Mary, I told her everything. That is why I am here Holmes." I sat quietly contemplating Watson's response, and finally asked "You tried to run from me, whatever do you mean? And what, may I ask is it you told her?"
"Of course I tried to run from you Holmes, you had me for far too long. It was affecting me far too much… As for what I told her, I told her that I don't love her, and that I never really have. I told her she is my friend, and nothing else. I told her I couldn't possibly love her… not in the way that a man loves his wife. When she asked why, I finally told the truth, and do you know what? It felt damn good to actually say it aloud. I told her that I have been in love with someone else for years, and that I would always love them no matter what." Watson finished.
I had closed my eyes as he spoke, and breathed evenly, refusing to open my eyes to meet Watson. I could feel my hand being held tightly in Watson's and finally I was ready to speak. "Who is it that you have loved all of these years then Watson?" I huffed out, regretting the words already. His leaving had proven that he would never love me in the way that I secretly loved him. But now with a surge of hope, my temporarily mended heart was ready to shatter all over again.
The silence seemed to carry on for an eternity, and then to my surprise I heard Watson chuckle and shift his weight. I still refused to open my eyes, but cocked an eyebrow in question. It was then that I felt a breath against my earlobe that sent a shudder down my spine and heard a whisper, "Did you really need to ask that question Holmes?" Watson's hand still held mine but the breath had gone from my ear. "Yes." I whispered back, my eyes still closed, "I need to know..." There was another slight pause, "Well, this should answer your question then old boy," Watson slurred slightly. It was then that I felt a hard, urgent pressure on my lips causing my eyes to fly open in surprise. "W-watson," I stammered against the kiss, Watson replied by shoving his lips even more forcefully into mine and twisting his hand in my hair. I moaned and finally stopped resisting and let my own need take over. My hands grasped Watson's shirt and pushed him down onto the bed and straddled his waist, never breaking the ever deepening kiss.
My lips travelled down Watson's jaw leaving a trail of wet kisses until I found his neck. I nibbled playfully, causing Watson to chuckle softly. To this I replied with a sudden growl and bit down with a bruising ferocity that quickly changed Watson's chuckle to a low moan. "H-Holmes…" Watson groaned, I smiled into the crook of his neck and gave the mark a soft kiss. "My apologies Watson, I simply can't help myself when it comes to you." I laughed softly and pressed another light kiss to his jaw. "I never could old boy." I brought my mouth up to meet his again, lingering there. Reveling in the taste of him, of Watson, 'Finally' I thought, 'finally mine.'
Fin
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