INDIA
Sherlock moaned, a decadent hum of contentment. "Please. More….. Hmm. That's it. That's perfect. Harder. Just there… Dig deeper….." He arched his head back and looked up at the sky with dreamy eyes as he hissed, "Fuck. God, yes…."
The sole of his right foot rested on Vedant's chest, his long toes digging into the flesh as Vedant leaned forward and massaged his legs. Pudgy hands improbably seemed to be writing symphonies as the fingers moved from the crease of Sherlock's groin, down his thighs and back up again in hypnotic circular motions.
Kesh sat on the lounge wearing only a towel around his torso, oil-slicked body gleaming in the afternoon sun. He pulled a pillow on his lap trying to hide his growing arousal as he stared. At Sherlock's naked legs, the snug fit of the black boxers around tanned thighs, the faint outline of his cock in the bulge over which the fabric stretched, the skin shining as the oil was rubbed in. Creamy skin, now tanned in the Indian sun. A smattering of hair on the generously freckled chest, pebbled dusky nipples moving with each breath. Stop it, have some control. Think about something else. He's saying such things to tease you. Oh, God…
Sherlock's eyes drifted knowingly to meet Kesh's, his lips curled up in a sly smile.
"I'd like to take you to London with me, Vedant. You can give me massages twice a day. Kesh can watch."
Vedant gesticulated excitedly with one hand, oblivious to the sub-text. "Sir, if I didn't have a family, I'd never let you and Hrishikesh bhaiya out of my sight. I'd come and stay with you in foreign. Cook for you. Give you massages. Iron your clothes. Clean your house."
"Hmm….." Sherlock hummed.
Kesh cleared his throat, "Perhaps that is enough, Vedant? We would like to rest now."
Vedant nodded agreeably as he stood up, gently depositing Sherlock's leg on the soft daybed. He started to fold the towels and tidy things.
"Bhaiya, what time should I come to pick both of you?"
"Five? I'd like to be there by six in the evening. I don't want to keep everyone waiting."
Vedant nodded, "I'll pick you and Sherlock Sir up at five then." He did Namaste to both Sherlock and Kesh as he left.
Putting the pillow aside, Kesh lay down on his tummy, chin propped on his interlaced fingers. Sherlock appeared lost in his own world as he lay gazing up at the sky. His body gleamed from the massage as it lay sprawled on the pristine white sheets. One hand moved up languidly, long fingers seemed to be writing something in the air. A flick of a wrist as he dismissed what he had written. The fingers came down. Pads of his index and middle finger traced his lips. Lazy reflective movements over the plump lower lip and then the upper lip, dipping into the cupid's bow, moving from one edge to another. To and fro. To and fro. Dreamy aquamarine eyes followed the slow moving cumulus cloud overhead. Traced the movement of the swaying branches of the huge banyan tree to his left. The fingers halted mid-motion, the hand went up again to trace another note in the sky.
Kesh watched. Hypnotised. Aroused.
This was his favourite way to pass time. Watching Sherlock be himself. He could watch him for the rest of eternity, given a choice. Is there anyone else in the world more fortunate than me? I can walk up there and kiss him, hold him, make love to him… His eyes moved from the mesmerizing fingers down the recumbent form. His mouth flooded.
Keen blue eyes flicked towards Kesh suddenly. Sherlock smirked.
"I'm trying to compose."
"I can wait."
Sherlock pouted. "I feel like a puddle, Kesh. Like my bones have melted." Kesh chuckled.
An eyebrow rose suggestively, "Perhaps you can help?"
"How?"
Sherlock crooked a proprietary finger, "Come here."
Kesh stood up, gaze locked with Sherlock's. He removed the towel and flung it over the lounge as he neared.
Pupils widened as Sherlock bent both his legs and spread them.
"Come here," he repeated, voice suddenly husky.
Kesh braced both hands on either side of Sherlock's head as he lowered himself, his legs scissored by Sherlock's.
"You are so beautiful," he murmured softly as he brought their lips together, his erection rubbing against Sherlock's crotch. "I could look at you all day." Lips parted as they kissed, leisurely long sloppy kisses as though they had all the time in the world. "I don't want to do anything but look at you all day." Their bodies slipped and squelched, the oil making everything smooth and slithery.
"Love you," Sherlock murmured in Kesh's ear as Kesh bent down to nibble down his neck. He inhaled deeply searching for the familiar sandalwood smell. An irritated huff at the massage oil masking what he'd come to expect each time he held Kesh in his arms.
He pushed down gently on a shoulder, "Go on, then. I could hear you drooling from over here."
Kesh slid down slowly, pausing to suck on a pebbled nipple. Sherlock held his head close as he tilted his head back and moaned with pleasure, the vibrant blue of the sky reflected in his wistful eyes. Kesh moved lower and hooked his fingers in the waistband of Sherlock's boxers. Sherlock gave a loud sigh as he raised his hips. "I feel lazy. This is the last time I help you today."
Kesh bit the inside of a thigh, "Then lie back and enjoy. Compose."
He got to work, nuzzling against the half-hard cock. Picked up a testicle in the limp sac and swirled it in his mouth, sucking gently. One then another and then back to the first one. Rolling each one, licking the sac, inhaling deeply.
Sherlock moaned softly as Kesh took his now hard length in his mouth. One hand moved down to gently tangle with long locks, "Slowly. Don't distract me."
Kesh took his time, savouring, sucking. Shallow teasing movements. Long deep ones. Gentle sucks. Tender nibbles. Broad wet licks over the slit, just like Sherlock liked. Mouth moved down to engulf as much of the long thick length as he could manage. Swallowed while he held Sherlock deep into the back of his mouth, a movement that usually drove Sherlock crazy. Thumbs caressed the smooth inner thighs in soothing motions. Moments passed. Sherlock composed, hands moving against the blue sky as though conducting a symphony. An occasional moan. Brow furrowing, face expressive. A sigh.
"I feel like a ruddy Sultan. Being serviced by his subject."
Kesh choked as he tried to swallow his laugh.
Sherlock pulled on his hair roughly, his chuckle deep, "Kesh! Don't laugh while you have my cock in your mouth!"
Kesh nuzzled against Sherlock's groin, "I'm trying my best, my Sultan."
Sherlock snorted. He twisted to grab hold of the bottle of massage oil and tossed it to Kesh.
"Fingers," was the brief order. Kesh rubbed his nose against the saliva slick hardness as he squeezed the oil on his fingers. The heel of a foot came up and nudged Kesh's naked arse. An imperious voice. "Get to work. Mouth and fingers."
With exquisite tenderness, Kesh started to prepare Sherlock even as his mouth pleasured him.
"You're so relaxed," he murmured against the warm skin.
"Hmm….." Sherlock hummed absently, barely registering the fingers slicking him up and opening him. Lost in his head as the melody took shape. Slowly, Kesh scissored his fingers, careful not to stimulate too much yet. His head bobbed up and down in tandem with the gentle preparation.
Sherlock's gaze sharpened, the movement of his hands got faster as the music wrote itself in the sky—born of love, born of joy, born of contentment.
"Just like that. More…..A bit faster now." Voice husky, sensual. Kesh increased suction and caressed the sensitive gland inside with light touches.
Sherlock thrust up and down slowly, moving in tandem with his hands now flying as the music blossomed in his mind. "Yes… Fuck. Yes….." Notes written across the canvas of the blue sky ascending, moving faster, as though spiralling towards the heavens. His hips moved roughly now as he thrust in, enjoying the slippery warmth of Kesh's mouth. Hands came down to grab Kesh's head holding him still. "Fucking hell. Yes… just right. Fuck…." Body and mind chasing the imminent crescendo, eyes darting to and fro as though reading something in the clouds above.
Kesh went passive, mouth a willing vessel as Sherlock's thrusts sped up, the balls drawn up and tense, the hands in his hair now tight and pulling, Sherlock's mouth open as he panted.
The score reached completion in his mind at the same time as Sherlock gasped, "Fu… Kesh…. Oh..oh…..OH! FUuuuCK." Body arched up as warm release filled Kesh's mouth in powerful pulses. A slow sink down. Breath leaving in short bursts as his legs sprawled apart. A satisfied groan as slick lips licked him clean. He gave a long contented sigh.
"That was perfect."
Moist blue eyes looked down at Kesh.
"Come here." A quiet murmur. Hands pulling at Kesh, "Come here, love." He brought their lips together. A languid sweet slide of lips, a mingling of warm breaths as they shared the taste of Sherlock's release.
"Have me," Sherlock whispered against his lips. A gentle touching of foreheads.
"Are you sure?"
"Have me," he repeated. Kesh smeared some more oil, slicking his already greasy hard length. Sherlock watched with sated eyes as Kesh hesitated again. They didn't do it this way often, already set in their preferences. Which only made each time feel new, unchartered.
"Come here," Sherlock pulled him closer, his large palms cupping Kesh's face. "Keep your eyes on me."
A thick head breached him, moving in ever so gently as though he were made of spun glass. Kesh was braced above, both elbows bent on the sides of Sherlock's face. Two pairs of eyes widened as the length slid smoothly in.
"Ah…." A gasp escaped Sherlock as his eyes darted all over Kesh's face. Full, so fucking full. Why don't we do it this way more often? Love the stretch. Love the awe in his eyes. After all this time he still looks like he can't believe he is allowed this. That this is HIS to have.
He gathered Kesh close, face buried in his chest. "Give me a minute," he murmured.
Gentle hands cradled his head, light fingers brushing back the wet locks. "Sherlock?"
Sherlock's words were muffled against Kesh's chest. "You. Only you…." He broke off, the feeling of completion, of love too intense to put into words. He looked up. A radiant smile grew as he leaned up. Soft lips grazed against the side of his mouth.
"Only me?" Kesh chuckled even as hungry eyes darted over Sherlock's face.
"Stay." Long legs wrapped around Kesh's waist, strong muscles locking him in place. Sherlock's grin turned cheeky. "Want to try something."
He squeezed his sphincter rhythmically, in a milking motion.
"Oh God…." A harsh breath escaped Kesh as his fingers grabbed at the pillow next to Sherlock's head. Sherlock bit his lower lip as he did it again. And again. And again. Enjoying the growing desperation on Kesh's expressive face.
"Please, Sherlock..."
"Like it?" An eyebrow arched innocently.
Kesh huffed out a laugh. "Yes!"
Sherlock pulled him closer and rubbed their noses together playfully. "Love you." Nipped his nose. "Enough with the teasing." He slackened the grip of his thighs, spread them invitingly. "Go on."
"I love you." Kesh nuzzled against Sherlock's cheeks. "So much…. so much. You are everything. Everything." Tender eyes locked on to Sherlock's as Kesh started to move.
Long, slow thrusts. Hips parted and then moved together as though slotting against each other, a perfect fit. Fingers intertwined. Moist breaths against parted lips as their bodies danced in a rhythm as old as mankind. Kesh buried his face into Sherlock's neck as he built towards an inexorable climax slowly, steadily. Loving fingers passed through Kesh's long locks as Sherlock held him close, whispering endearments he'd never imagined he was capable of. "I love you….. my beautiful Kesh….. You are mine, aren't you? It's fine…. You're not hurting me….. You can go harder. Come for me, my love. Shh…. It's okay…. I've got you." He held him close as Kesh spent himself with a quiet gasp, fingers digging into Sherlock's arms. As Kesh came down from the high and looked down with eyes that held awe and boundless love. Sherlock cupped his face, soft lips pressing again and again to the dimples next to Kesh's lips, his favourite among all the features of that beloved face.
"I love you," he murmured, smiling.
Kesh slid down slowly, his face on Sherlock's tummy, arms spread protectively around his hips. They lay quietly, getting their breaths back. Feeling lazy. Sherlock's fingers stroked Kesh's hair in soothing circles as they looked at the distant snow-capped mountains, their eyes drifting close.
"I've finished composing. It is beautiful."
"Hmm…."
Quietude reigned for a few moments. Then Sherlock yawned loudly. "Your come is dripping down my arse," he complained.
"Hmm…." Kesh smiled against the flat stomach.
"These sheets need a clean." His words sounded slurred.
Kesh laughed softly. Sherlock pulled his hair.
"I need a clean."
Kesh licked a broad swathe of smooth skin. "Stop complaining. I'm trying to sleep." His head bounced as Sherlock laughed. Sherlock pulled another pillow to prop up his head as he stared sleepily ahead. It was a while before he spoke.
"Each time I come back to India, the urge to stay grows stronger. I ask myself if I really want to go back….. It feels like home over here."
When Kesh didn't respond, he raised his head, frowning. "Kesh?"
Kesh turned around slowly till he faced Sherlock. Gentle hands caressed Sherlock's bare chest.
"What is 'home', Sherlock?"
Sherlock blinked at the serious tone. His eyes narrowed as he thought.
"Belonging. Safety. Acceptance."
"So it depends on a person or a group of people. Or a situation, a place?"
The frown deepened as Kesh watched patiently.
"When you think of home in these terms, you are giving agency to the world around you. To factors outside of yourself. The surest way to misery. Because if the person is gone or you are far from your physical house or in the midst of a new situation you feel unhappy. You feel out of place, not 'at home'."
A thoughtful finger ran over Kesh's sharp features absently as Sherlock thought about this.
"What else can 'home' mean?" Kesh urged gently.
"Happiness. Contentment," Sherlock answered quietly.
Kesh smiled. "Ah… Contentment cannot be conferred by the outside. It is born inside of you. That is why some people can 'feel at home' even outside of the home. It is possible to feel at home anywhere." His eyes were alight as he kissed Sherlock's chest. "Santushtah satatam Yogi," he murmured. "A Yogi is one who has Santushti everywhere."
"Santushti." Sherlock rolled the new word around in his mouth.
"Hmm…. In simple terms it means contentment. But if you break it down in Sanskrit it means something more."
"What?"
"Fullness. A feeling that one is full within. And that is how one should be 'at home' no matter where or with whom he is."
"Become fullness? How?"
"Simple. When do you feel empty?"
There was a pause as Sherlock thought. "When I feel I need something to fill me."
Kesh nodded. "Desire. You then desire what you feel you lack. Any desire takes you away from yourself. Takes you out of the state of fullness. For a period of time you then enter the world to fulfil that desire. So you are not full, you are not content. You are not 'at home'. Do you see?"
"Santushti….." Sherlock's voice trailed off. Kesh watched as Sherlock's gaze turned inwards. He waited patiently.
When Sherlock focused on him again, he continued. "So you have to decide what you mean by home. If it is India, the people here, even me….. then you can think about staying here. But if it is a state of mind inside of you then it does not matter where you are."
Sherlock looked thoughtful as he traced Kesh's lips with his thumb.
"There is a saying, 'The poor man who desires nothing, owns the world!" Think about it. Before you make any decisions." Kesh kissed the thumb. "Now I'd really like to take a nap in just the position I am in."
"Hmm…." Sherlock pressed a warm palm gently over Kesh's eyes. "Sleep." He lay there for a while looking up at the sky before his eyes closed as well.
LONDON
Gosh it's freezing in here, Molly thought as she gave a little shiver. Need to get Stevie to adjust the thermostat again. Placing her gloved hand gently on the forehead of the cold stiff body of the 50 year old corpse on the autopsy table she whispered gently, "I'm going to have to open your skull now. It's standard protocol for unexplained death. Ummm….. Sorry!"
She picked up a wooden block and placed it gently under his head. Picking up a scalpel her efficient hands expertly made a cut from behind one ear to the crown of the head to the other ear. Working on autopilot now, her mind went back to the unexpected conversation she'd had with the Director of Pathology Services, Dr Larsen, the previous day.
"Dr Hooper, your recent published papers on "Gastric mucosal lacerations following drowning" and "Post mortem radiology for penetrating trauma" have brought some much-needed recognition to the vital work that this department does. Just because Pathology is not a glamorous branch like Surgery, doesn't mean that we aren't damn good doctors, does it?"
Dr Larsen leaned forward on her desk, her hazel eyes sharp as they fixed on Molly.
"I have some good news. The Director of Hospital Services is planning to allocate a portion of the annual Government Grant that St Bart's attracts to our department. I suggested to him that further research on the topic of penetrating trauma and how post mortem imaging can contribute towards precise and indictable evidence without additional cost would be an appropriate area of research."
She'd pursed her lips as Molly stared at her, tongue-tied.
"Brighton and Sussex Medical School are currently also developing research in the same area. I'm proposing to send an experienced and senior pathologist to both spear-head and co-ordinate the combined efforts. And I'd like to propose your name as our candidate. You're certainly qualified and you don't have a family dependent on your presence in London."
Molly pushed an errant lock of hair behind her ear as she looked on, heart pounding. Nothing like this had ever happened to her in her years of working at St Bart's; she was conditioned to being overlooked repeatedly.
Dr Larsen's eyes were soft as she continued to explain.
"I'd really like you to accept this position. You'd still be working a few part time hours at Bart's but for the next two years the majority of your time will be spent in Sussex. You'd be the principal co-ordinator and decide how to proceed. It will be a big boost to your career." She leaned back as her hands moved vaguely in the air. "Frankly, I see it as a stepping stone to bigger and better things. You've been stuck here doing autopsies and attending court. It is good to try new things." She'd then elaborated the hours and precise work that would be required.
Deft hands cut through the dural reflections between the cerebrum and cerebellum and lifted the brain out. She placed the brain in a steel bowl and then on the electronic balance. Noting down the weight and external examination. She then proceeded to take slices for fixation. Her mind drifted once more to the past…. To India this time around.
INDIA
She had woken up early and ever so carefully slid away from the bed so as to not disturb Mrs Hudson. Coming downstairs she'd made herself a cup of tea and then carried it outside into the garden, her I-pod in the pocket of her nightie as she listened to some soothing music, a throw-rug bunched in her other hand.
Not expecting anyone else to be awake, she stopped with a sudden gasp as her eyes fell on the vision before her.
Under the large banyan tree sat Kesh.
Wearing only pajama bottoms, naked torso gleaming. Meditating. Realising that she had not actually disturbed him, Molly debated. Should I go back in? Will he hear me? Can I stay here? Oh my God! Look at him! She stood rooted at the spot for a few moments and then before she knew it, her feet had carried her to the lounge chair some distance away. She sat back and sipped her tea as she looked curiously.
It was like STILLNESS had taken on a human form. Chiselled body radiating peace. Beautiful sharp features in repose as long curled locks blew gently with the wind.
Molly shifted slightly to tuck her cold feet inside the throw-rug, gazing dreamily as the pre-dawn sky lit up the scattered clouds into the first muted shades of reds and oranges. Her eyes flicked back to Kesh and then back up. Then drawn back down to earth as though hypnotised she stared some more with unblinking eyes.
She'd sat there for a long time as the day dawned, listening to her music and yet aware of the birds, the wind, the changing colours of the sky above. The air smelled of the verdant wet grass, the very atmosphere as though suffused with peace.
Finally Kesh's eyes opened. Slowly. Unfocused. Calm.
He blinked slowly as though trying to return to the world at large. She watched fascinated. Rapt. Stunning! Is it a wonder that Sherlock fell in love with him? With THIS? Who wouldn't?
His eyes widened as he finally noticed her. He stood up hurriedly, apologizing as he turned his back and quietly pulled his t-shirt on. Turning back to her with a smile on his face, "Molly? I'm sorry I didn't know you were here."
She stood up as well, throw-rug falling to the ground. She gave a self-conscious laugh as she bent down to pick it up. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. It was….. I was just…." Her voice trailed off.
He smiled. "Do you want to go out for a little walk? We might get to see some peacocks in the wild, if we're lucky. This is the right time for it!"
So they'd walked.
Looking out for peacocks. Periods of amiable silence alternating with periods of talking and laughing. The fresh mountain air and Kesh's easy presence. Her tongue loosened as she talked about herself, her childhood, her work. Kesh's firm hand steadying her as they went off the beaten path into the jungle. Snippets of dialogue made in an ostensibly desultory fashion which had then morphed into one of the most significant conversations of her life- once she'd taken the time to recall and replay the words in her mind, again and again.
It is a mistake to lead a life for someone else. One should live for oneself. Life is an opportunity for inner growth ….. Sherlock respects you. He respects the work that you do, your courage, your steadfastness….. He believes in you.….. You are a specialist, aren't you? Post-graduation in Forensic Pathology! So you are a more qualified doctor than even John…..
It is an atrocity to try to tame or cage a wild animal for one's own satisfaction and pleasure. Similarly it is a grave injustice to try to pull greatness down so that it can become ordinary and relatable and less frightening… Sherlock Holmes is a great man. Let him be a great man. Enjoy the pleasure of watching him. Celebrate the fact that we belong to the select few who are found to be deserving enough to be allowed to glimpse at a great mind….. Sherlock loves you. Just because he chooses to share time with me does not mean that you are any less significant to him…. If you want to express your love for him, do it by being the best possible YOU that you can be. And then watch his eyes light up with delight and love….
You are so very important to him. So integral to WHO he is… Your unflinching un-conditional love for him is one of the key touch-stones of his life. 'Molly loves Sherlock', is a cardinal truth for him; one of unmeasurable solace and validation. He told me once that it is one of the purest things he has experienced. Please let him have that, there is no one more worthy of it. He holds the feelings you have in the highest regard, it is one of the few things he deems worthy of his deepest respect. In many ways it tempers his natural arrogance. Humbles him.
'Sherlock loves Molly' is an equally inviolable truth. Celebrate it, as I do!
LONDON
Molly bit her lip as she mechanically started to close the Y-incision on the man's torso. Thinking. Churning. Savouring Kesh's words in her mind.
"What time for lunch, Mols?"
Molly took in a sharp breath as she turned to face the petite figure of Claudia, her friend from Microbiology. She giggled.
"Sorry! I was just….. lost in thought."
"I can see that." Claudia stepped into the morgue. "Is this still about Sussex?"
Resuming the final stitches to the groin, Molly nodded. "Can you get my phone out of my purse? Keys in my pocket." Claudia stepped closer and wiggled her hand underneath Molly's apron and into her trouser pocket. "I emailed Sherlock this morning. Wanted to ask him what he thought."
Keys in hand, Claudia rolled her eyes as she stepped towards the staff lockers. "Of course you did!" she mumbled.
"Stop it!" Molly laughed. "It is a big decision. And he wouldn't like the thought of not having me here for post-mortems and lab work, I don't think! I'm not sure what to do!"
Claudia rummaged through the purse. "Can you blame him? Who'd like to lose an assistant who never complains, works late, is available 24/7 at his beck and call, who worships the ground he walks on….."
"He does NOT take me for granted. Why can't people see that?" Molly cried out.
Claudia looked up from the phone.
"Found it!"
"Read it. Quickly!" Molly said, hands paused, needle holder and forceps hovering above the dead body.
Molly. This is excellent news! In my view, it is time to move beyond what you've been doing for many years now. Time to seek new vistas and experiences. Kesh concurs.
A childhood friend of mine lives in Fulking and runs an organic farm there. He lives alone on a rather alarmingly large property and I'm sure he'd be delighted to have you as a house guest on the days you need to attend to your research and mentoring duties at Sussex. I propose to you that you consider this as an alternative to renting a flat in Sussex.
His name is Victor Trevor. We used to play pirates when I was a child. His name was Redbeard and mine was Yellow-beard. And I'd always win. I was always the one to take him captive! Remind him of that, would you, if he were to ever get too cocky?
Please let Mrs Hudson know that Meera has bought the right sized bangles for Mrs Turner.
Keep me posted on any developments at your end. Expect an email with Victor's contact details soon.
SH.
Claudia smiled indulgently as she put the phone back in the purse. "Happy now? I'll wait in the cafeteria for you."
Molly nodded. A radiant smile hovered on her lips as she tied the last knot on the Y-incision.
"There, all done," she whispered gently as she covered the naked body.
To be contd...
