Helloha once again, It's been a while I know, but as a forgiveness present, I bring you this Fanfiction. Yay!!!! 3

Holmes x Watson.

Of course, it's a yaoi fic, meaning that there are mature scenes between two smexi men in this fic. If you don't like Yaoi fics, that's ok, just press the back button.

Enjoy!! :P

The rain poured down without hesitation. Water pelted down on the rooves of the houses and local businesses, all the way down Baker St. The sound was deafening, even Mrs. Hudson couldn't even hear the kettle scream at its boiling stage, let alone her own thoughts. But even with the winter storm thundering down, she could still distinguish two voices from the rain any day.

Sighing to herself, a smile at the corner of her lips, she walked out from the kitchen, straightening her apron while wiping off the crumbs from her evening tea. She mumbled cursively to herself as she would be the one to clean those up, and stood quietly, waiting as the voices grew louder as they approached.

She jumped abruptly as the wooden door slammed open, hitting the wall behind it, causing frames to fall and shatter on the ground. A hand came up to catch the door from its return.

Watson stood hunched over in the doorway, his focus on the ground below his feet, puffing harshly. He was soaked though each layer he had on. His matted hair dripped rivers over his eyes, his hat now deformed and had a slight red tinge as it sat in his free hand, along with his cane. Watson heaved in a slow, deep breath, and turned his head to his right, watching as a perfectly dry man walk up and past him as if he was the door man.

"I can't believe you would use me as some kind of bait!" Watson exclaimed as he watched Holmes shake off the umbrella of its loose droplets of rain and place it in the holder underneath the hat stand, "No, I'm sorry. I take that back. What sane man would ever believe that you would do something like that to a man that has saved your behind more times than all the nine lives of each cat put together in London! My mistake."

Watson took a step inside his warm apartment and closed the door behind him softly.

"Good evening Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson." Mrs. Hudson quickly was at Watson's side, taking his hat, waistcoat and jacket from his hurting body. He smiled thanks to her, running a hand through his hair.

"Good even Mrs. Hudson. Would you mind bringing me my surgical case? Someone seemed to lose my other one."

She smiled and nodded, heading off into another room. Sighing, he turned his attention once again to Holmes, frowning as he placed his wet coat and waistcoat onto the side rails of the stairs.

"Oh, come on Watson. You had the right structure for this case, and was it not successful? Why, if it were me, we might not have caught the man behind those kidnappings."

"Indeed, you are correct, "Watson started, regretting saying that out loud, "but I was kidnapped and mistreated for three full days! The slashes on my back are just beginning to heal now."

"Watson, my dear friend, you are like a cat. You always land on your feet. And if the day comes where you don't land on your feet, I will always be there to catch you."

There is no understanding that man! Watson thought, watching the detective limp up the staircase. He shook his head, bringing his hand to his face and pinched the bridge on his nose, trying to wrap his mind around that so called human he respected.

Mrs. Hudson rushed back in, holding his black briefcase and an extra roll of bandage material. He thanked her once again with a nod and followed Holmes up the stair, looking at the small blood droplets that sank into the cracks in the wood.

----

"Sit still Holmes!" Watson urged while at the same time commanded through gritted teeth as he help a pair of small scissors between them.

"It's very hard when you are stabbing a needle in me like I am a ripped pair of trousers." Holmes whined; a painful groan followed after it as he watched the needle pierce his skin over his thigh, a white line followed it, disappearing for a moment before the needle exited out the other side, drawing the sliced skin together.

"The morphine should take its affect on you soon." Watson softly informed, concentrating fully on stitching up the bullet wound that caused Holmes' limping. He didn't even inform Watson of his condition. The damn stubborn idiot.

Holmes studied Watson, watching the intensity in his eyes as they followed the movements of the needle through his skin, Watson's eyes flickering over his skin for a few seconds before continuing to patch him up. Holmes' eyes drifted down to the hand that was clasped over his thigh, just above his wound. He could feel his pulse quicken with each throb under Watson's large hand.

"There. Done. I think you will survive." Watson broke the silence, removing his hand from Holmes' thigh, taking the scissors from his teeth and cut the excess thread, and began to wrap the material bandage around Holmes' thigh, officially finishing his work on his friend's thigh.

Watson stood up from his bar stool next to Holmes' leg, and limped over to his surgical case, dropping the needle in warm water and watched how the blood stain the water. He then placed the rest of his stitching material back in its rightful place. He turned around, placing his weight on his arm as his hand clasped at the table, a shock of pain travelling up his leg. He looked around Holmes' room, thinking to himself how someone could ever live in such a messy room. His focus left the room and he stared at the man, his eyes focusing on his lips as they curved into a smirk.

"Well, I would say and confirm that the morphine you have given me, is now working quite well." Holmes said out loud, his words relaxed and pain free. He let his head fall back on the head rest of his chair, taking in a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the drug take its course of his body.

Watson was always weary of giving Holmes medicated drugs; he was always worried that they wouldn't work as his immunity to drugs was always so high with his other drugs he used on a weekly basis. So after he watched Holmes for a few seconds, his anxiety left and he began to treat himself. Holmes for some reason would get the worst or the fewest injuries, and every time Watson would be the one to take care of him. Watson, scratching at a small graze just under his rolled up sleeve, cleaned himself up of the blood. Then he started on clearing up Holmes' leg and other cuts over his body. There was nothing he could do for the bruised cheek bone that had been hit continuously in the same spot, splitting the skin. A split lip would heal in time and …

"I missed something…" Watson mumbled to himself quietly as his eyes fixated on the deep slash running down Holmes' neck, right over his vein. He studied it, not wanting to touch Holmes; he didn't want to take Holmes away from his relaxed state. Dry blood cracked as Holmes swallowed, allowing fresh blood to slowly ooze from the wound, creating a red trail down the strained tendon. A quick flash of excitement ran through Watson's mind. He shook his head, taking a step back from the man, trying to rid the thought from his mind. But it stayed. These small flares of excitement had been occuring a lot lately for some reason. Watson knew what the reason was but he didnt want to admit it.

Watson wasn't a man that would allow himself to give in, but this time he did, seeing this as the only opportunity he could get. Taking a slow step forward, he placed a leg over each side of Holmes' body and slowly sat down on his thighs, making sure he avoided the wound. He froze when Holmes groaned from pain. He knew that taking advantage of a human, let alone a man who was medicated was wrong, but in an instant, he found himself leaning into Holmes' neck, his lips brushing over the bloody gash. He moved his hands to Holmes' arms, gripping onto them softly, but moved his lips away as the scene of how his detective friend got that slash that ruined his alabaster skin ran though his head as he closed his eyes.

--

A tall gruff steal worker grabbed Holmes from the ground after kicking him in the ribs a few times and placed the knife to his throat. Holmes groaned as the knife pierced his skin. The man smiled a greasy smile and moved his lips to Holmes' ear, whispering something that made Holmes squirm for his release.

Watson rushed into the room after finishing with the now unconscious man on the ground, hearing Holmes call for him. He pulled back the hammer and aimed at the tall man. His time in war paid off as the bullet blasted from the chamber and entered his capturers head. The knife fell from his hand as his body fell to the ground, leaving Holmes smiling to himself, which left Watson sighing at his friend, shaking his head.

--

Holmes never thanked him for taking his gun that he had forgotten once again. He smiled down at Holmes, and placed a kiss over the wound, eliciting a moan from the man under him, the skin vibrating under his lips. Smiling still, he opened his lips, letting the flat of his tongue press over the still bleeding injury, smearing the warm blood over his wet muscle. The taste was rich; metallic blood stung his tongue. Removing his tongue that had licked over the sliced skin, he replaced it by closing his lips over the wound while tracing the cut skin with the tip of his tongue. Edging his body closer to Holmes', his left hand moved up the thin yet strong arm, removed the clothing from his shoulder and gripped onto Holmes' shoulder, his thumb drawing invisible circles over the skin.

"Watson…" He heard his name come from his friends mouth, his named wrapped in desire. His voice was so dark, so deep and husky, it send a shiver down Watson's spine. Holmes was calling for him.

His hand soon moved away from his shoulder, coming to rest at the nape of Holmes' neck, running his fingers through the deep chocolate brown hair. They both were still in cold damp clothes. Watson was shaking before from the cold clothing, now they were warm from the heat from his body. He was still shaking, but he was now shaking from the adrenalin pulsating through his veins.

The moment now seemed timeless, as Watson continued to play and suck on the wound. He enjoyed feeling Holmes' stiffen every time he pushed his tongue into the wound. He moved away from the slash, blood now ceasing from the wound and latched his lips onto new fresh skin, beginning to nip and suck at it. He could taste Holmes on his tongue; his sweat, the remnants of blood, his unique taste of every aspect of Holmes. Another moan escaped Holmes' lips, making Watson slowly open his eyes, wanting to see his face.

Realisation of the situation set on him; he was marking his friend, who was medicated so he couldn't feel pain, which made sense as to why he wasn't recoiling when he played with his wound or yelling from the pain because he was sitting on his thigh. He must have given him too much morphine.

You damn sad fool John!

"Watson," he looked up at Holmes, seeing that his cheeks were slightly flushed, "why did you stop?"

"I'm sorry Holmes," Watson blurted out, already off of Holmes' lap, limping back against the table, "I…I don't know what came over me." He sighed deeply, placing his hand over his face to hide his shame.

"Well, I think you should not be sorry for acting on emotion. For what is it worth, it is human nature to act upon impulses of high arousal or heightened emotional state. As well as that, I swapped the morphine with some honey water. I wanted to see if-"

"You what?!"

Holmes, with a confused expression, sat up and placed his hand over his neck, a finger ghosting over the marks that Watson left on his wound and his neck, " I swapped the –"

"I heard you the first time. We are all born with ears for a reason," Watson stopped leaning against the table and stood up, "Why did you do that?"

Holmes was about to reply to the question, but closed his mouth.

Angered flushed through Watson, "Of course once again, the mighty Sherlock Holmes refuses to explain himself when it comes to the one thing that you cannot explain. Feelings!Emotions!And as well as withholding information, you always seem to withhold your plans from me, leaving me all banged up like always. Why don't you just say what you feel without deducing the situation at hand..?"

Watson stared at Holmes, waiting for an answer but he was only wasting time. He was so confused. Sure he loved Holmes as a brother, but he had never felt this intense heat consume his body before. Not to this degree anyway. He felt so embarrassed that he acted like that. He felt so foolish that he was caught, but he felt so aroused that Holmes was moaning his name.... that he might feel the same way as he.

Holmes stood up from his chair, putting his weight on his good leg and ran his hand through his hair, "What did it feel like?"

"What?"

"Tell me what it felt like when you were marking me."

His breath and explanation were caught in his throat. Watson stiffened defensively, "I'm not going to tell you that." Trying to avoid the subject, Watson limped across the room, grabbing his cane and made his way past Holmes to the door.

"It felt good, did it not?" Holmes asked, making Watson stop in his path, "Judging by your increased breathing and the slight blush of your cheeks, I can confirm that. You can verbally lie Watson, but your body and your actions will always tell the truth."

With the rain still pouring outside, the room got dark quickly. He watched the candles flicker around him, dancing to their own tune. He closed he eyes, hoping that this wasn't happening and breathed out, "I have left some pills for you on the table, take them accordingly when the pain starts to arise."

Watson made his way to the door, but with his limp, it made it easy for Holmes to pass him and stand in front of the door, locking it from the inside. He threw the metal key away into a stack of papers and looked into Watson's eyes.

"Holmes, move." Watson asked low in a threatening voice, he was already made a fool of tonight; he didn't want the situation to get any worse. He shouldn't have listened to that voice in his head.

"Watson, just listen to me for a moment." Holmes begged, taking a step forward towards Watson. Watson took a step back, trying to avoid Holmes' playful mind games and side stepped him, taking a key from his pocket and dangled it in front of Holmes' face. He looked Holmes up and down, looking at the ripped trousers where he stitched up his wound and placed the key into the keyhole, ready to turn it.

But once again, Holmes got the upper hand, taking the key from the door and placed and again, threw it away and moved in between Watson and the door, making his exit impossible for the time being. Holmes placed his hands on Watson's shoulders, trying to reassure him of what he was trying to do, but of course Mother Hen didn't want to listen this time, "Let me explain, then you can choose whether to leave or stay."

They both sighed at the same time. Watson shouldered off Holmes' hand and waited for his explanation.

But it never came. Holmes just stood there, his eyes flickering over Watson's face, trying to find some words to put together to make a sentence to justify his actions. Well, he didn't really see that he did anything wrong. It was Watson who instigated it, not him and he didn't even do anything, not including the moans and slightly grinding up against Watson's hips. But somehow he felt guilty for misleading him.

Words are mostly empty in an apology, so why use words when actions speak louder than them?

Holmes grabbed Watson's chin, pulling it down so they were face to face and placed his lips every so lightly over Watson's. The doctor's eyes widened and flickered over Holmes' face, his eyes were watching Holmes'. He slammed his hand onto the door hard, putting his weight on the arm and his good leg. Watson's other hand came up and cupped the back of Holmes' head, crushing their lips together, both their eyes closing.

Holmes moaned into the kiss, loving the pressure of Watson's lips against his. He let Watson take charge of the moment, pressing his body against his own while his leg slipped in between his legs, spreading them, and then rubbed his knee against his hardening member. Holmes gasped from the touch, automatically bucking against the knee and breaking the kiss, which gave Watson time to steal those lips back, forcing his tongue into his mouth to lick and play over Holmes' tongue. Their tongues duelled for dominance but Holmes just gave him, loving the feeling of Watson inside his mouth.

I never knew he could be so forceful, I might have to show him my gratitude, Holmes thought.

He mentally smiled as his hands fell upon Watson's hips, playing with his suspenders. His hand grasped onto the brown suspenders, pulling them towards his chest, making Watson come closer.

Watson couldn't even think; everything was flying out of his mind, leaving only Holmes in there, meddling with his body and emotions.

The need for sufficient air burned at his chest, so regretting his next action, he pulled away. He heard Holmes breath in low, licking his lips.

"I think I might… stay and here you… out," Watson said slowly, giving his air deprived lungs the air they needed.

"I'm glad you could see it my way Watson." Holmes smiled, giving Watson a small kiss before flipping them both around so Watson was now pinned against the door, the slashes on his back screaming in pain as his back met with the door. Watson growled low, his eyes closing to deal with the pain. Then suddenly the pain was gone as his mind had forgotten it. Holmes' lips were on his neck, marking him with sharp bites and nips, wanting Watson to know that he was his and vice versa.

"Holmes…don't bite…ahh…marks…Mary…" Watson moaned out, pressing his aching bulge against Holmes' hip, rubbing against it.

"But…you…taste…so…good." Holmes answered in between sucks and nips. While he played with Watson, his hands moved to the doctor's shoulders, pulling off the suspenders with easy tugs. Then, his hands moved to his shirt, already opening up the buttons with nimble fingers.

"Holmes, what are you doing?" Watson asked, apprehension beginning to tense his body up, drawing him out of the moment, but Holmes just kissed his cheek with a smile and moved down to his clavicle and bit down playfully, his lips soothing the sting. Watson relaxed his weight against the door and succumbed to Holmes' devilish mouth over his body.

Now with his shirt open, Holmes' hands roamed around over his chest; feeling the soft hair over his pectorals, swiping the side of his thumb over his hard nipple, tracing each rib over his sides and his abdominals. He licked over his collarbone, liking how Watson tensed up as he lightly touched his abs.

Watson moaned low, grabbing onto Holmes' hips, bringing them closer to his own; one hand laying over it while his other slid up Holmes' back. His hips acted on their own their own, grinding so he could relieve some of the tension building up inside of his trousers. Watson could already feel the tight sensation down in his stomach begin to grow.

Already seeing the signs that he needed release on Watson's face, Holmes thought it was about time to help him. Holmes moved away from Watson's body, the cool night air stinging his chest, and crouched down into a kneel, his fingers already pushing the buttons through the holes and grabbing Watson's already hard, leaking manhood, and kissed the tip. He liked the reaction he got from Watson as he yelped from the action. Holmes looked up at Watson, waiting for him to look down.

"Holmes, just…don't tease…please…" Watson was a begging mess, and he hadn't even started yet, but to put him out of the distress he was causing Watson, Holmes opened his mouth, allowing Watson's erection to slide in.

Watson cried out from the warmth around his arousal as Holmes began to suck around him. Placing his hands on Watson's hips, Holmes began a steady pace of pleasuring Watson, hollowing out his cheeks with the flat of his tongue pressing up under his shaft. Looking up at Watson, Holmes watched Watson bite down on his bottom lip, gasping every time his mouth closed over his erection. Watson grabbed hold of the door knob, his grip hard around it.

Holmes, smiling, hummed to himself, letting the reverberating air in his mouth stimulate Watson's member even more before coming off, making Watson groan from the loss of friction.

"Holmes…don't stop…" Watson pleaded, his hand cupping Holmes' chin, staring into his eyes to show how close he was.

"All in good timing, old boy." Holmes smiled, kissing the palm of Watson's hand before going back down, and licking the underside of Watson, dragging his canines above and below, pressing against the pulsating vein which elicited a gasp of pure passion from Watson as a hand threaded itself into Holmes' hair, urging his mouth to continue with what it was doing before.

Holmes laughed, and opened his mouth again, taking in all of Watson to hear a muffled cry of relief.

"Holmes…ahhh…so good…mmmph." Watson tried to keep control of his words but they just came out as if his brain wasn't even in action anymore. Then he moaned out loud, his hand grabbing handfuls of hair as Holmes pressed the tip of his tongue into the slit, making him buck hard into his mouth.

Then came a loud knock at the door, the same door that Watson was leaning on while Holmes was giving him the time of his life. It was interrupting their moment.

"Dr. Watson, are you alright in there?" Mrs. Hudson asked from the other side of the door, lightly tapping at the door, making Watson's back begin to hurt again.

Watson placed a hand over his mouth as Holmes continued to suck and taste his aroused member, not wanting anymore noises to come out that would hinder the situation. Of course, Holmes would'nt help him out as he sucked harder, his tongue swirling around his crown.

"No, everything is…ahhh…fine. Holmes is,'" he stopped, suppressing a moan as he pressed the back of his head against the door, "…he is fixing me up at the moment."

"It doesn't sound like he is doing a good job, do you want me -"

"NO!" Watson yelled, as Holmes took the opportunity to suck harder around him, making Watson weakly moan as the warmth in his stomach increased at a fast rate, making his torso muscles tighten, "Holmes is doing a fine job at it, there is no…oh god…uh, need for your assistance."

There was a pause; Watson knew she was listening to them. He didn't know what to do; he had never been in a situation like this.

"Watson, is this the right way for this?" Holmes playfully asked, kissing the tip over and over again, making Watson silently moan up to the ceiling, closing his eyes.

Watson clued on fast, "Yes, that's fine."

Holmes smirked, liking having Watson at his mercy. They heard Mrs. Hudson walk back downstairs. The pressure of her noe gone. Watson, now on the edge, pleaded forcefully to Holmes to keep continuing. Of course, Holmes obliged, taking him in once more, and quickened his actions. He could sense the doctor's climax just about to come, so he reached down to cup Watson's balls, pulling on them slightly as he sucked hard around him. That was it for Watson as he threw his head back and moaned loud, bucking into Holmes' mouth as he came hard, his whole body shuddering. Holmes sucked down all that Watson gave him, swallowing down the thick white liquid, chocking a little as Watson bucked hard down his throat. He took Watson's now flaccid length from his mouth, forcing the rest down his throat. He wouldn't admit it, but he liked the taste of Watson.

Watson's legs gave out on him, causing him to fall to the ground, panting and breathless. Holmes, licking the stray liquid away from the corner of his lips, looked over at Watson as he fixed him back into his trousers. His face was in pure bliss; flushed cheeks, closed eyes, open mouth that was panting harshly, pulse rushing…what more could Holmes ask for?

"Holmes, –" Watson didn't even get to finish his sentence of gratitude as Holmes placed his lips over his own with a soft kiss.

"Yes, I know, Old Cock. Come; let's get some sleep before that nanny tries to interrupt us again."

Hope it was worthy of a yaoi fic between Holmes and Watson. :P
I love Seme Watson, but Seme Holmes like this....yummi :P
Reviews are always nice, thanks for reading!!! :P