I Want You
Summary: Watson offers an alternative to cocaine. Watson/Sherlock
Pairing: Watson/Holmes
A/N: Edited by the always lovely Aerodynamics. Also my first Sherlock Holmes fic.

"You know I don't approve of that," I said curtly, watching Holmes with a growing intensity.

A tourniquet was tied around his arm, and he was tapping his forefinger upon a vein. Between his teeth he held a syringe. I was pretty sure it was filled with cocaine. No matter how many times I told him of my disapproval, he bluntly ignored me and went ahead and continued his activities. I pressed my tongue to the back of my teeth, crossing my arms over my chest.

Holmes lifted his head the slightest bit, glancing at me, then looked back down. "Indeed I do, Watson," he said bluntly, plucking the syringe from his teeth and positioning it properly. "But it's simply a matter of want."

"Want or addiction?" I questioned, entering his quarters and approaching him after closing the door. I seated myself on a footstool near his chair.

"Want," he answered firmly. "I can stop whenever I desire, my good doctor."

"You are addicted, Holmes. Do not deny it."

Holmes ceased and gazed up at me, his dark eyes focused and his brows furrowed. "That is quite the deduction, Watson," he said, no anger in his voice. Oh, but it was stern nonetheless.

"Which is entirely true," I countered, raising my brows.

"Watson, do you mind?" asked Holmes, the anxiousness coating his voice thickly as he nodded at the door.

Snorting, I reached out and seized the syringe from his fingers. It had yet to penetrate the skin, so it had caused no harm to him. Holmes sneered, pursing his lips and watching me.

"I do mind, Sherlock; as should you," I said, placing the syringe on the table close to me. "Being a doctor, I highly advise against the use of cocaine. As I've told you many times before, you should be aware of my protest against it."

"Of course," he answered. "But does that mean I will accept such protest and terminate my actions? No, it does not."

Holmes reached forward for the syringe, but I swatted his hand away before it was within reach. The detective recoiled his hand back into the security of his own person. He looked at me with an abundance of irritation in his features and gritted his teeth.

"As much as I value your opinion," Holmes hissed, "I would have to ask you to mind your own business, Watson."

Again, his slender, pale hand reached for his syringe, and again, I smacked it. Holmes uttered a small noise of protest, sending me a glare. I just stared right back at him, not allowing myself to give up. He reached for it once more, and this time I seized his wrist in my hand. For a moment, he struggled against my hold on him, sneering at me. Abruptly, he lurched his body forward, reaching with his other hand for the syringe. I caught him and pushed him back to his seat on the couch. He rose to his feet, tugging me with him since my hand still took hold on his wrist.

"Watson," he said in a warning tone. "Release me."

"No."

He lunged for the syringe again, this time sending us toppling over onto the floor. I gasped, grunting and looking up at Holmes, who had fallen on top of my chest. He looked at me and then proceeded to reach for the syringe. I grabbed his arm and held him back, making him strain against me. I pushed him to the floor and held his shoulders down to the floorboards, straddling his hips. He thrashed, hissing and kicking his legs.

"Watson! Release me at once!"

"So you can retrieve the drugs? I think not."

His dark eyes narrowed at me, and he flared his nostrils. It was a meek attempt at intimidation.

"Besides…" I trailed off, making Holmes cease his struggles. "I do believe I have an alternative to cocaine."

Holmes raised his brow in curiosity. "Do tell."

Without hesitation, I forcefully crushed my lips against the detective's. His eyes widened and he began to thrash against me again, groaning. A small gasp escaped into the kiss, allowing the opportunity to arise for me to push my tongue through his teeth. Holmes tensed up, refusing to move an inch. Or more so, he couldn't move. The stale taste of tobacco transferred onto my tongue, which only made me deepen the kiss more, to see if I could suck the taste clean from his mouth. Holmes whimpered, his struggles dying down. Once I felt it was safe, I slipped my hands from his shoulders and into his locks. Immediately, his hands shot up to my lapels, fisting them and pulling me closer. Fair enough.

Slowly, I pulled from his mouth. The usually proper detective was flushed, his lips bruised and eyes wide. I smirked, feeling his chest rise and fall against mine with his breathing.

"Well…" he drawled, clearing his throat. "That is quite the alternative."

He pulled me down, capturing my mouth with his and slipping his arms around my shoulders. I complied, rolling my lips against his. Then I trailed my mouth from him, moving down his jaw and to his neck. Holmes tilted his chin upwards, allowing me to continue my path. Swiftly, my fingers unhooked the buttons of his waistcoat, pushing it aside to work on his shirt. A small hiss slipped through his teeth, his fingers reaching up and gripping my shoulders.

"Mr. Holmes! Mr. Watson!"

We both halted and peered over at the door. A brisk knock on the door was given after a mere moment.

"Are you both alright?" Mrs. Hudson questioned, pounding on the door once more.

"Quite so," I answered, disappointment on my face. Holmes noticed this and simply shrugged his shoulders. I leaned down and sunk my teeth lightly into his jaw, making his hips arch against mine. He hissed at me, glowering once more and pushing against me. I lowered my eyes at him, and he shoved again.

"Off."

I complied, rising to my feet and offering the detective a hand. He swatted at it, pushing himself to his feet. Then he began to readjust his clothing, fixing the buttons.

"I heard a crash," Mrs. Hudson continued, the worry evident on her voice.

"It was nothing," Holmes said. "No need to worry."

"Well…" She seemed unsure of Holmes. "I have brought tea."

Holmes ran a hand through his hair before nodding at me. He then pulled the tourniquet from his arm and tossed it onto the table along with the forgotten syringe. The detective cambered over to the door and opened it, granting Mrs. Hudson entrance. As he did so, I seized the syringe and pocketed it.

"What was that ruckus?" she inquired, glancing at me.

"Nothing," Holmes threw in, pointing to the table. Mrs. Hudson placed the tea on the table where Holmes instructed. I could tell she was apprehensive about it, wanting to understand what was going on. But she simply nodded and walked out of the room briskly.

Holmes peered over at where I was standing. As he did, I simply shrugged my shoulders and started for the door.

"Watson," he called. "I expect my alternative when you return."

I smiled to myself and looked over at him. "Indeed."