Title: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words
Rating: M/R/15 (Rating for theme, slash and kissing)
Disclaimer: I didn't create Sherlock Holmes & Dr Watson I am merely playing with them.
Author's Note: Sorry, plot hedgehogs wouldn't let this drop. What took place after Holmes and Watson talked. Again I'm not too happy with parts of it, can't say what for spoiler risk.
Help: I am looking for a beta reader, someone who is willing to read Harry Potter, Sherlock Holmes and maybe some original stuff. Please check out some of my earlier work, I am very fond of making people OOC.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Chapter Two

The next morning I woke late.

Holmes' words had been going through my mind all night, how long had he wanted to tell me? Had he ever intended to tell? How was he expecting me to react now that I know, how would our relationship change? A long with my questions I had my worries. My feelings confused me, how did I really feel about his confession?

His unsteady step on the stairs after he left my room confirmed my suspicion that he had been more than merry; I hoped that he did not regret confiding in me.

I dressed quickly and hurried down to breakfast.

---

"Good morning." I said upon entering the sitting room, my friend did not look up from his newspaper or acknowledge my greeting. I sighed and sat down opposite him.

I proceeded to eat the delicious breakfast Mrs Hudson had prepared in silence. Holmes had not touched his, which not in itself unusual did suggest to me that he was distracted. As he had no case at present, I could only assume that our conversation was indeed playing on his mind.

"Holmes..." I started to say.

He laid down his newspaper and consulted his pocket-watch. "I have business elsewhere today, Doctor."

Doctor. My heart sank.

"Will you be back for lunch?" I asked as he pulled on his thick overcoat.

"No." He took his top-hat from his hat stand, "I do not anticipate being back until late."

"We...I..." I could not find the words for what I wanted to say.

Before leaving he turned to face me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "If I see my middle name appear in any of the stories you keep insisting on inflicting on the public, there will be trouble."

I smiled to myself as he left.

---

As it happened I hardly saw my friend that week, he left before I rose and did not return until I had retired to bed. Despite his allusion to what had taken place it felt like he was avoiding me, was he ashamed?

I wished I could speak to him and reassure that whilst I was not overtly comfortable with the idea of two men being intimate, I did not think anything less of him.

I tried to spend my days sorting through my old case notes but I found that my mind was constantly drawn to Holmes. Why had he allowed himself to be photographed? Was Victor Trevor planning or had tried to, blackmail him? How had Milverton obtained them, had there been more to the Milverton case the Holmes had not divulged?

At night I dreamt of him and his exquisite hands.

---

Almost two weeks after Holmes had come to my room I finally found myself once again in his company. I wanted to broach the subject with him but I could not find my words and when I did, I found that I lost my nerve.

Once I went to his room, but could not bring myself to wake him.

Holmes was in an odd mood; he spoke to me at length on various topics that interested him, other times he was quiet and any attempt at conversation brought a gruff response. I could not leave the subject alone, I needed to talk about it.

My opportunity came late one evening.

Holmes was stretched cat-like in front of the fire, his eyes half closed and a delicious smile upon his lean face. I tried to concentrate on my book but Holmes occupied my thoughts, would he have chosen to tell me his secret if I had not found those pictures? These thoughts were infuriating, why was he occupying my mind so much?

"It's rude to stare." My friend murmured sleepily.

"I was just thinking that I hadn't seen you much lately." I replied, trying not to show that he had startled me.

"I have been somewhat occupied." Stretched and stood up. "I think I shall retire. Good night." I watched him cross to his bedroom and realised that I would not have better opportunity to speak to him.

"Holmes," I stood. "We need to talk."

He stopped, his back to me, a long hand holding the door frame. "About what?" He enquired.

"The other night."

"I've said all I need to say on the subject."

"I haven't. We need to talk whilst...whilst we're both sober."

He turned to face me. "If you cannot discuss something sober then it's something you should not discuss at all."

"Bollocks." I snapped. "I don't need to hear excuses, Holmes, I need you to sit down and talk to me."

"Drop the subject, Doctor." He moved to close the door, but I intervened to stop him.

"I'm afraid I can't."

He looked hard into my eyes, his expression unreadable. "What do you want to know?" His voice was harsh, "you want to know specifics? You want to know who I am thinking about when I..." He swallowed hard, "this is something about me that should not be discussed. Good night."

He closed the door with a snap.

I took a breath to steady my nerves and reached out to take the door handle.

Holmes was sitting on his bed, his fists clenched as though he was struggling to contain his emotions. I walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, his entire body tensed against my touch.

"Holmes..."

"Don't."

I removed my hand. "You may not want to talk, but I do." I sat down next to him, "I don't need to hear anything that's...private, but I have questions."

"Concerning what." It didn't sound like a question.

"Those pictures...why? What possessed you to..."

"What indeed." He mused, "it was something that just..." He shrugged

"How did Milverton..."

"The same way he received all his information."

"Milverton's death..."

"Was a fortunate accident." He answered quietly.

I leaned over and placed my hand on his. He made no effort to move away. Feeling braver I took his hand gently and held it between my mine.

"If I hadn't seen those pictures, would you have told me?"

"No."

I watched him closely wishing I could make sense of the feelings that were rushing through my body. I desired Holmes as much as I had desired my dear late wife, as much as I suspected he desired me. I stared at his beautiful thin mouth and watched as he chewed his lip. Instantly I knew why he had never told me and why he had not wanted to discuss the issue, and I also knew what I wanted to do.

"Holmes."

He turned and I leant forward kissing him gently on his lips forcing my tongue into his mouth. He tasted of tobacco and cinnamon, the flavours merged together in an almost intoxicating manner. I had never kissed another man before, there was something exhilarating about the experience.

At first Holmes returned my kiss with equal passion allowing my tongue to explore his mouth, his own darting between my lips. I still held his hand between mine but I wanted to touch him further, to run my hands over his strong body, despite my passion I was afraid – I had never felt for another man like this.

I risked placing my hand upon his thigh, he froze and pulled way moving quickly to stand by the window, his back to the room and to me. I had gone too far.

"Why?" He asked in a strained voice.

"Isn't this what you want?" I asked.

"John..."

"I'm willing to learn."

"No."

"Why?" I crossed to him putting my hand on his shoulder, he moved away and I let my hand drop "I'm offering you what you want."

"It's not what you want." He said quietly.

I snorted, "you can't possibly know that."

"This isn't you." I was surprised to see tears rolling down is face. "You don't share my inclinations, even if you did...you're my friend."

"Can't I be more?"

He angrily wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. "I have had many acquaintances in my life, but never one I could call a friend. I do love you, John, but it's your friendship I value above anything else."

"I think I understand." I said finally, as much as my own thoughts confused me I understood then why Holmes was so afraid of his own feelings. "Sex is just sex, you have no understanding of love, you trust me enough to call friend and for that, Holmes, I am honoured."

I held out my hand. He looked down at it and laughed, soon I too realised how ridiculous my gesture was, considering the recent actions, and joined him in his laughter.