This is a collaboration with Spy'd R and was written in a RP. I took Holmes and she took Watson... So I hope you enjoy this thing. :)

~1~

To get Holmes out of Baker Street was a feat. To get Holmes out of London and into the seaside was what could be called an achievement. Several days before, a women, Mrs Cartwright, had reported her husband, a photographer, missing. She had visited London to see her sister, who had in turn advised her to consult Holmes, who was very obliged to take the case. After weeks of boredom and the 7% solution screaming at him, he had no other choice. That is why both he and Watson were sat in a first class carriage to Blackpool.

Several hours had gone by now; in silence. Watson had enough of hearing only the rattle of the train and began to talk; hoping, yes almost praying, that Holmes would respond at all.
"Have you reached any vital conclusion yet, Holmes?"

Holmes' gaze remained at the rolling hills and appearing sea.
"I cannot theorize without data dear Watson. You of all people must know that by now surely?"
Watson sighed desperately. "Yes Holmes. I do know, but to tell the truth, I am weary of the silence. You have not uttered a word, since we left Baker Street."

Holmes turned to face him now.
"Oh my dear chap! I am terribly sorry." His voice was filled with
apology and slight jest. "What is it you wish us to talk about?
British birds? How Mrs Reynolds is keeping after her fall?"

"I would like to know more about the case, for, as you know, I came in when Mrs Cartwright was almost finished with her story. It seems to be a very complicated matter, is it not?"
Watson asked, merely not to bore his friend.

"Mr Henry Cartwright was reported missing two weeks ago when he failed to return home after meeting a potential business partner. After day three of the search for Mr Cartwright, the police presumed him dead and called it off almost immediately. However, Mrs Cartwright told me she still believes he is alive and I do too, but I do not believe Mrs Cartwright will be happy when we find him. "

Watson chuckled in amazement and amusement. "Well, well, Holmes! You astonish me once more! Do you think the man has a love affair? But if that is so, why haven't you told her right then? If I may remark it; this is what you usually would have done."
It was only a matter of fifteen minutes, until the train would reach its destination.

"I fancy some drama in this case Watson… Ah! We appear to have arrived." Once out on the platform, they collected their luggage and left the station to find Mrs Cartwright and her son waiting for them.
"Oh, hello Mr Holmes, Dr Watson! Over here!"

Watson immediately rushed over to the woman, whereas Holmes took his time to approach her.
"Good day, Mrs Cartwright! Have you received any news from your husband yet?" the doctor almost chimed. Mrs Cartwright's smile fell as she shook her head.

"I'm afraid not,but I still have hope. Little Peter here does too." She looked down at her son, pushing him forward a little.

"Say hello to Dr Watson and Mrs Holmes, Peter."

With a very timid kind of tone, the boy finally greeted the two visitors. Then Dr Watson declared, "I am sure, Mr Holmes will soon find your husband. He assured me only moments ago, that he is confident, to find your husband alive."

Holmes nodded and greeted both Mrs Cartwright and her boy.
"Oh the news is most welcoming Mr Holmes, truly. I am just glad to
know my thoughts are no longer alone. Oh, you do have accommodation to
stay in?"

"An Inn would be just fine, Ma'am", replied Watson, hoping that she would not insist, for he hoped on a quiet night together with Holmes. The journey had after all been quite exhausting.

"Of course. There is the old Fox and Hound just down there. I'm sure
they can make space for the great Sherlock Holmes." Mrs Cartwright
said with a smile. "When shall I expect you tomorrow gentlemen?"
"Ten." Holmes replied. "I'm sure I can wake Watson by then." He shot
his friend a smile.

Watson returned the smile, but with a somewhat warning expression in his eyes.
After they had parted, the doctor whispered to Holmes, "You have once again, read my thought like an open book, am I right?"

Holmes shrugged his shoulders and turned to him with a smug look.
"Perhaps. Most likely yes. Come on, let us find this inn and then you
have me all to yourself."

After arriving at the Inn, which had, as fate seemed to wish, only one room left; but with two separate beds.
"For you two gents, always!" The landlord had cried with excitement, for he knew exactly who these people were. Had he known, why they stayed here, he wouldn't have been so overjoyed; Watson had thought by himself.
But now they were safe and sound. Holmes, tucked in his favourite blanket, which had been almost as good companion during the cases of the "Musgrave Ritual" and "The Devil's foot" while Watson himself was seated, without any kind of blanket on his own bed; looking at his…friend and then down to the glass of excellent Scotch he held in his hand.
"Cheers, Holmes! To life!" Watson said, standing up, and approaching his companion.

Holmes grinned. "Yes, to life. And us and other things."

Watson now sat down next to Holmes on an old, somewhat tatty fur that seemed to have been a brown bear once. His hand gently slid under layers of blankets, jackets and waistcoats, until it came to a halt on only one, warm, slightly damp layer of white cotton shirt.

Holmes shuffled a bit. "Watson, now is not the time nor place and I'm
on a case and you know the rule about…"

"Now it is me to break with the rules, Holmes…" Watson whispered seductively into his ear. "I am sure; it will help your thinking too. Just this once…" there was a pause, before Watson finished the sentence "…Sherlock."

Holmes sighed and bit his lip, turning to him. "Fine. But this once.
But are you sure you they won't hear us?" He looked down at the
floor."

"Then we need to be silent…" Watson said and grinned, for his trick had worked. Holmes could never resist, when his first name came into play. "And now…please, let me take that rug away."

Holmes pulled it away from his shoulders and passed it to Watson.
"It's not a rug," He informed, lying back. "It's a blanket… Oh at
least it isn't too springy."

Watson pressed a finger on Holmes' lips. "You can tell me later, my dear. Now focus on me."
He opened the lying man's jacket very slowly. When he had done so, Watson made a move to sit on Holmes' waist to remove his waistcoat too.

Holmes reached up to kiss him, worming a hand into his soft hair.
"This is extremely inappropriate Wat… John." He muttered between
kisses.

Watson bent down, leaning on his hands to kiss Holmes' neck. He had learned in similar nights like this that his friend reacted strongly to this. The doctor inhaled the pleasant scent of the detective's soft skin. And then he let go of the air in his lungs, to take in a new portion of the smell he loved so much. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale… Holmes smiled, his hand moving Watson's face further into his neck.

"That tickles." He murmured, wrapping a leg around his friends.

Watson lowered even further down to his friend, kissing his long, slender neck now. When he was done there, leaving Holmes panting, he made his way up to the detective's hair, breathing in strongly, the intense smell of pomade. After that, he decided that it was time to release Holmes from these utterly distracting clothes.

"You do not talk…" Holmes moaned, as Watson's attention averted to
other places. "Have you locked the door?" There was no reply, just hands at his hips.
"Watson?"

Watson stopped and lowered down to Holmes' ear one more. He whispered, "You need not worry. All is safe as long as we are silent. We should probably move to the bed…" there was a pause and a sly grin. "…my man."

Holmes smiled and nodded.
"Alright, let's do that before we carry on. I want to fall asleep
beside you and not in a cold bed."

Watson checked the door before proceeding to the bed, where Sherlock Holmes was already waiting. He wore nothing whatsoever except for his own skin and a blanket which Watson had before so shamefully misnamed.