The Case of the Damage Doctor

I ascended the stairs of 221B Baker Street, thought I am certain that if my colleague Dr. John H Watson were to write one of his popular stories, he would no doubt have used some romantic flourish such as loped or dashed. I however am not given to such romanticism and shall stick with ascended. I was looking forward to seeing my companion as he had been a much requested individual of late. Leaving the house while the sky was still dark and not returning until long after the dinner hour. Most days barely sparing me a greeting before going to his room to get as much sleep as he could.

An influenza outbreak had struck London and every half competent doctor had been in high request and as that Watson was much more than half competent, his presence had been requested by many. Fortunately the outbreak was finally coming to an end and I had been informed by one of my Irregulars that Dr. Watson had returned home several hours ago.

I will admit, to only myself mind you, that had I not been in the middle of proving a man guilty of murder, I would have rushed home to make sure that he was in good health. It always concerns me when he has to take care of so many sick. I might have rushed through my explanation to Gregson but he had understood the basics of what I was telling him. Once I had seen to my companion I would return to Scotland Yard to confirm that everything was proper.

I opened the door to the study that Watson and I shared, ready to greet him but the moment I laid eyes on him I was silenced. He sat in one of the upholstered chairs in front of the unlit fireplace. His left leg was stretched out on a footstool and even though he was asleep his face was creased with pain and his left hand clenched his leg right above the area he'd been shot in while in Afghanistan.

I went downstairs just long enough to request that Mrs. Hudson not bother us for the rest of the evening. I explained that Watson was tired as needed as much rest as he could get. She informed me that she was planning an evening out and would lay out a cold dinner should Dr. Watson or I require something.

I returned to the study and shut and locked the door. I noticed that the room was slightly damp and chilly. I knew that neither condition was good for poor Watson's injuries. On the table next to him I saw that bottle that he kept his Laudanum in. He only took this particular medication when the pain was excruciating because it rendered him unconscious for twelve hours at the least.

I lit the prepared fire and quickly moved about to collect the items I needed. My dear Doctor spent much of his time caring for me and always pushed away my attempts at reciprocating. I went to my room and found the flat stones that I had purchased in Tibet while I was hunting down Moriarty's gang. The old monk I had stayed with instructed me on their usage and I bought them with the intention of using them to help soothe the pains from his wounds. I located a bottle of oil that warmed muscles at the bottom of a case in my closet.

I placed the stones in the pot of water that I had set over the fire and the oil I placed on the hearth close to the fire so it would warm but not get so hot it would burn skin. While I waited for the stones to heat I set to work removing Watson's collar and cuffs. I unhooked his braces and unbuttoned his shirt and gently pulled it off of his left side. Even though I knew the medication he took would keep him unconscious I still took my time removing his undershirt. I had no wish to cause anymore strain on his shoulder even though I knew he would not feel it.

I placed a blanket over him while I went to check the stones. It would not do for the good Doctor to catch a chill while I was trying to make him feel better. I fished out one of the stones with a pair of tongs and tested the temperature carefully with the back of my hand. It was a little warmer than I would have liked so I wrapped it a few times in a towel before placing it over the scar on his shoulder.

I must admit to mixed feelings about his scars. I abhorred the pain they must have caused him when the wounds were fresh and I hated even more the pain that they continued to cause him, but without them I never would have met him and if I was honest with myself, my life would be empty without him to share my work. I gave myself a small shake, there was no excuse for thinking such overly romanticized thoughts.

I placed a piece of fabric over the stone and towel and tied it in place. I pulled the blanket back over his upper body and started on the buttons of his trousers. I was grateful that Watson had taken his medication because without it there was no way he would have slept though me undressing him and one would think that as long as we had been living together he would be less modest about his body in front of me, the opposite seems to be true. The longer we've lived together the more private he gets. I suppose it might be a reaction to me being able to tell his every move from the dust and mud covering his shoes and trousers.

Removing his trousers and smalls took a bit more effort and time than I had anticipated and by the time I was finished the stone on his shoulder had cooled. I deftly untied the fabric and replaced the stone with another from the water. I placed the used stone back in the water to rewarm. I removed another stone and placed it against the scar on his leg in the same manner as his shoulder. I took great care to keep my gaze on his leg and not further up. Despite the many years that I had desired the good Doctor I would not betray his trust in me.

Once the stone was in place I laid a towel over his groin area, less for his modesty and more for easing of temptations. I collected the oil from the hearth and dripped a little onto my arm to make certain it had not been over heated. It was at the perfect temperature so I once again removed the stone at Watson's shoulder.

I poured some of the oil into my hand and gently started to massage it into the smooth skin surrounding the scar. I would eventually work directly on the scarred area, but I wanted to loosen up the surrounding muscles, otherwise the area right around the scar would tighten again and would become even more painful from the repeated cramping.

As painful as his shoulder must have been, it did not take long to get the muscles relaxed and loose. I removed another stone from the water and placed it against his shoulder. The heat would keep the muscle loose and prevent the cramping from returning.

I took a deep breath and turned my attention to his leg. I must admit that I quite impressed myself with my ability to remain professional as I massaged the tight muscle in his thigh. I was able to retain that professionalism right up until he moaned my name and he shifted position. The towel fell from its location and there, barely a hands breadth away from where I was touching his leg was his most very erect penis.

I jerked my hands away and forced myself to look elsewhere. Sadly, it was all for naught as he once more called my name, and his right hand reached out and found my shoulder. I looked up at his face, fully expecting that despite the drug he had taken to find him watching me. To my surprise he was still firmly in the arms of Morpheus, oblivious to the world.

I slowly reached forward again and placed my hand against his leg and rubbed gently at the raised scar tissue. The emotions that flickered across his face fascinated me. I could see a mixture of lust and want wound together with pain and sadness. The pain I could quickly figure out as being related to the cramping of his muscles that the hard work he had been doing caused. The lust and want were also obvious even though I attempted to keep my gaze away from that portion of his anatomy. The cause of the sadness however eluded me. To my knowledge nothing had been bothering him of late. Of course it was possible that it could have been related to the outbreak of sickness that he had been dealing with, but that was incongruous with the rest of the evidence at hand.

I leaned forward and looked closer at his face. He was a handsome man. That had never escaped my notice. It would have been impossible to have not seen how others flitted around him, drawn not only to the beauty of his body but also of his soul. He was a good man. I often had cause to wonder just what it was that made him stay at my side. I knew it was not for my personality. There were days when I wanted to escape from myself. At times I suspected it was the work. Helping people, John was always interested in helping people. I did the work for the knowledge, for the chase; he did it for the chance to make someone's life better, or easier. He was too good of a man for me, but I would not have been willing to give him up for the world. I had done it once when I had faked my death and I didn't have it within me to attempt it again.

His head flexed back and his back arched. Once more he called my name, his left hand dropped into his lap and started to curl around the hardened flesh that I was trying to hard to ignore. The right hand which was still grasping at my shoulder slid up into my hair and pulled me forward.

"Please, Holmes. Sherlock don't-" his words trailed off as he pulled me closer.

As much as I often abhor admitting it, I am only human and I could no longer ignore my own needs in the face of such temptation. My hand moved from his thigh and wrapped around John's erection and hand. John inhaled deeply and released his hold on his prick. I grasped the hard column of flesh and slowly ran my hand up and down the length. A small amount of fluid appeared at the tip and I could not stop myself.

I leaned forward and lapped at the head of his erection. Bitter salt flowed over my tongue. It was at the same time the most exquisite flavor and quite unpleasant. It was like nothing I had ever tasted before and I knew that I must have more. I closed my lips over the tip and sucked, bringing more of the fluid into my mouth.

Watson's hips jerked and his cock slid further into my mouth. I glanced up and despite everything John was still oblivious to the world. I pulled away and grinned as his hand tightened in my hair. If this was only going to be a dream to him, I would make sure that it was going to be the most unforgettable dreams he'd ever had.

Once again I leaned forward but instead of taking his erection in my mouth I licked up the underside from base to tip. His hips jerked once more and he moaned. I had to shift position as the sounds he was making was going directly to my own trapped erection.

I used the hand I already had wrapped around his flesh to position it for the best angle to allow me to take full advantage of him. My other hand dropped down into my own lap to release the buttons of my trousers. I could not stop the small gasp of relief as my erection was freed.

I wrapped my mouth around John's prick and sucked as I sank down upon it. The hand that he had wound in my hair loosened its grasp and it cupped the back of my head. I stopped when I felt it at the back of my mouth. I was uncertain if I could take anymore of the hardened flesh inside me. I slowly pulled back off and his hand once more tightened in my hair.

"Sherlock, God, please, don't stop," he moaned.

For once I obeyed his order and I slid my mouth up and down his prick. His hips joined the motion and it wasn't long before I was forced to pull off as a deep thrust made me gag. I coughed as I tried to regain my control. To my surprise the errant thrust had done nothing to reduce my lust for the good doctor. If anything it seemed to have only heightened it.

With the new knowledge of John's behavior I once again applied myself to his erection. This time I focused at the tip to start. I ran my tongue over the head and delved slightly into the slit that had started leaking the bitter fluid constantly. I found myself growing quite fond of the bitter flavor.

While I focused on the tip I used my hand to stimulate the rest of the column. John's foreskin slid along the shaft as I pumped. Finally I could take no more and slid my mouth further down. I was quite unprepared for John's reaction. His hand pushed my head down while his hips snapped upwards and I found my lips stretched tightly around the base of his cock as I swallowed as best as I could in an attempt to avoid regurgitating the small dinner I had ingested.

His free hand joined the one wound in my hair and held me in place while his hips thrust. The sudden action by my dear doctor caught me by surprise and I was in no position to protest his treatment of me. Not that I would have had I been able. I steadied myself with my hands on his thighs and as I became accustomed to his movements I started adding suction. His hands tightened in my hair and his movements became stuttered and less rhythmic.

Finally he cried out my name and my mouth was filled with his emissions. I attempted to cry out as I reached my own climax. His hands fell from my head and I pulled off of his still hardened flesh. I swallowed the semen that remained in my mouth and bent my head once more to lick up what had spilled during my own pleasure.

His hips twitched as I lapped at his sensitive flesh. Once I had cleaned him as well as I could with my tongue, I used one of the cloths that I had brought over earlier to finish the job. I could no longer avoid the issue and I looked up at his face. The lines of pain that had been there previously had eased and he appeared to be sleeping easily. I tucked myself back into my trousers and cleaned up the area around me. Fortunately most of my own come had landed on one of the cloths and it was only but a moment to clear out any signs of what had occurred.

I untied the cloth that held the stone onto his shoulder and a eased him back into his clothing. I stood looking down at him and wondered if he would remember the dream that he had had. I looked at my bedroom door and then back at John. Leaving him in the chair was out of the question. He would wake sore and in pain, undoing everything that I had done this evening. I walked into my room to make sure that the path to the bed was clear and that my sheets were habitable.

After making sure that everything was ready I went back to John and carefully picked him up. I am quite fortunate in being quite a bit stronger than I look, and knowing a good bit about leverage. It did not make it any easier to carry my good doctor the thirty eight feet to my bed. I dropped him onto the mattress and pulled the blankets over top of him.

I will never tell John, but I spent a great deal of the night watching over him. Waiting until I could see signs of his waking. I had always worried me when he took the laudanum, even for a skilled doctor it could to too easy to misjudge and take too much. Once I could be certain that he would indeed awaken I took my leave and headed back to the main room.

I informed Mrs. Hudson that Doctor Watson would need a good hearty breakfast to start the day. While I knew that he would not be needed to help tend the newly sick, he would want to check on those whom he had already treated. His professionalism would allow him to do no less.


I stumbled into the rooms that I shared with Holmes. I took a moment to be quite grateful that he was not at home. He was busy helping his brother Mycroft with an issue that I had no need to know about. While I had been a bit miffed earlier about being left out of the fun, I was now quite happy to be alone.

I sank down into the chair with a wince. My leg and shoulder had not hurt this badly since the influenza outbreak two months ago. I dug into my bag and pulled out my bottle of laudanum. I rarely used the drug but tonight I knew I would get no rest without its aid. I cursed as I looked at it. I had used the last bit of it at Mrs. Wright's and had not had an opportunity to replace it. I dropped the bottle on the table and looked up at the ceiling. For a short moment I was tempted to dig into Holmes' slipper and use some of the drugs he kept.

I grunted as I attempted to find a more comfortable position as I massaged the cramped muscle in my thigh. I glanced over at the fireplace and gave quiet thanks to Mrs. Hudson for starting a fire. It had been a normal day of rounds. Nothing but the usual complaints of aches and pains with a sniffle thrown in for good measure, but the the previous case we had worked two days ago was still making its self known in the pain that coursed though my body. It had not helped that the day had been cold and wet. The chilly dampness had done my wounds little good and I could start to feel the heat from the fire helping to loosen the muscle. It was not long before the warmth of the room caused me to drift into slumber.

I rose from unconsciousness to pleasure. My back arched as warm suction surrounded my cock. My hands were buried in fine, warm silk threads. "Holmes," I moaned. I had no interest in fully waking. For too long and too often had I dreamed of Sherlock. I had no wish to have my dreams dashed against the rocky shores of reality.

The warmth pulled off of my erection and I moaned in disappointment and clutched at the silk in my hands. "Shhh, my dear, John. I will take care of you," Holmes whispered.

I moved my arm to pull him closer and was confused by a warm pressure against my shoulder that hindered my movement. My head turned to the side and my eyes fluttered open. Around my shoulder was a cloth that appeared to be holding a flat stone. I stared at the odd sight for a moment before I was startled out of my contemplation by that delicious warmth surrounding my erection once more.

I looked down and could not stop the moan that leapt to my lips at the sight that greeted me. Holmes' dark head bent over my lap was not something that I had thought to ever see outside of fantasies and dreams. In fact it rarely even occurred then. I had always envisioned myself as the giver not the receiver of such attention. Holmes never seemed to me to be the type to enjoy such activities so it was rather a surprise to see him.

It was then that I noticed that my hands were buried in his black hair. I couldn't help but wonder how long he had been at work on me. My fingers tightened in his hair without my permission and even though I had full intentions of stopping him I felt myself growing closer to completion. I tried to pull him away but his response was to only increase his efforts. It was only a matter of moments before I came to climax.

I slowly came down from the ecstasy that Holmes had brought me to only to find him suckling on my still hard cock. My hips gave a slight thrust as he moaned around my flesh. I focused my bleary vision on him and by the movement of his left arm he was obviously working to bring himself to the same place that he'd just brought me.

"Holmes," I said, my voice rough.

His shoulders jerked before he slowly raised his head and looked at me. The small amount of color that had been raised in his face by his exertions slowly drained away as his eyes met mine. "John." His voice was anguished and his eyes dropped from mine.

My hands quickly moved to cradle his face. "No, don't look away. I'm not mad, I just... I don't understand what's happened here. What brought this around?" To my surprise what I said was true. There was no question that I had every reason to be furious with Holmes but I just couldn't find any anger within me.

He sat back and looked to the side. I wasn't used to a Holmes who wouldn't look me in the eye. I felt more than a little exposed and reached down and tucked myself back into my trousers. I couldn't help but notice that Holmes' trousers were still open but he had either rearranged him or he had never removed his penis from the cover of fabric.

"Holmes, how did this happen?" I had the feeling that if I didn't try and start thing, he might never answer.

"It started two months ago. You had been exhausted from the influenza outbreak and your wounds had been bothering you. You had taken some of your laudanum and it was clear that while it had helped you to sleep, it had not done much to help with the pain. While I was... away," Holmes always hesitated when discussing the time period when I had thought him dead, "I had learned some techniques that helped with muscle pains and I thought that I might help you rest easier. I started with your shoulder. I had heated up some flat stones, you have one on your shoulder."

I looked at the stone wrapped to my shoulder. I could still feel the heat and I had to admit that the cramping of the muscle had released and the pain was greatly reduced.

"I had taken off your shirts to get the warmth closer to your skin. I then turned to your leg. That was all I had meant it to be. Some hot stones and a massage to help ease you, but during the massage you became erect and called out my name. I tried to resist, I swear to you, John, but you called my name again and reached out and grasped me by the shoulder. I could resist no longer."

I could see the shame on his face as he continued to look away. I reached out to caress his cheek and my breath hitched as he flinched slightly away. It hurt to think that he expected to be struck. I ran the backs of my fingers down his cheek. "Sherlock, look at me," I whispered.

He slowly turned his face towards me but his eyes were still lowered. "Please, look at me." Finally they raised and his eyes were looking into mine. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. His lips parted with a gasp but I resisted the urge to take advantage of the opening. I cupped his face with my hands and I could taste myself on his breath and despite having just reached fulfillment I could feel myself starting to harden.

I leaned back slightly. "While this might not have been my preferred way to find out that you felt the same for me as I do you." I paused for a moment. "You do love me, yes?" I asked. "This is not just a carnal want?" Sherlock shook his head. "It could only ever be love," he whispered.

I couldn't help but smile with relief. I had thought that Sherlock would never have risked everything had it been any less than love, but he had been know to surprise me in the past. "As I was saying, while it might not have been the best way to go about things, I can't find it with in me to be angry or upset. I only regret that I was not more involved in the proceedings."

It brought me no small amount of pleasure to see the surprise in Sherlock's eyes. Doing something that Sherlock had not anticipated was a rare but almost always entertaining activity. Once again I leaned forward and took his lips with mine, this time I took complete advantage of the surprise.

It wasn't long however before the shock of the evening had worn off for Sherlock and he quickly took control of the kiss. He buried his hands in my hair and stood up forcing me back into the chair. His mouth left mine and he stared down at me.

"My dear, John. How could I have ever underestimated you." His fingers rested against my lips when I tried to respond. "That was not a question that needed an answer."

I glared up at him for a moment before allowing my gaze to drop down the rest of the body. My breath shuddered as it fell upon the heavy bulge between his legs. I reached forward and pressed my palm against his erection. I looked back up at him as his hand clenched in my hair He had thrown back his head and sounds that from any one else I might have described as whimpers fell from his lips.

"Sherlock, I can return the favor you have given me," I offered, my voice trembling in anticipation. My other hand reached up to join the one already pressed against his hardness. I pulled open the front of his trousers and was about to free the erection trapped within when his hands fell on mine.

"No. The first time that we are truly together, it will not be a hurried affair in the living area." He stepped back and offered his hand to me. I looked at him for a moment in contemplation before placing my hand into his. He helped to lever me out of the chair as my leg was still quite sore. He took a moment to untie the fabric that held the no longer warm stone to my shoulder. He placed the stone carefully on the table. "Are you sure, John? There will be no going back from this. Once I've fully had you, I can never let you go."

"Yes, Sherlock. I am more than sure. I've waited for you for a long time, old friend." He gave me a smile before once again taking my hand. He led me to his bedroom where I could see he had already prepared it for sleep. My thoughts flitted back a couple months and I recalled waking in that very bed with no pain and almost boneless in relaxation. At the time I had wondered how I came to be in such a state, given that only one activity had ever relaxed me in such a way, and the last memory I’d had was sitting in the chair by the fire of the sitting room. Now I knew. A part of me wanted to be angry that Holmes had taken such advantage of my unconscious body, another part was jealous that he had memories of that first encounter and I had none, and the last and largest part of me was unbelievably aroused by the visions that my imagination conjured.

He quickly divested me of my remaining clothes and with far more gentleness then I'd ever seen him use, he guided me down under the covers. He'd placed a bed warmer between the sheets and my wounded limbs relaxed even further. I watched as his clothes joined mine on the floor and he wasted no time in joining me in the warm nest.

His arms wrapped around me and pulled me closer. I grasped the back of his head and pulled him to me. My lips took his and his moan echoed into my mouth. I tried to take control but eventually gave it up as his hands wandered over my body, lingering in places that made me shiver or arch. I thought I had wanted nothing more than his mouth to return to my cock, but when his fingers brushed against the opening to my body I could no more stop the words that leapt to my lips than I could stop the world from turning. “Sod me,” I cried.

His body quaked against mine. His head lifted and I looked into eyes that were black with passion. “I will not hurt you,” he growled. I could see how much my words had affected him. His hands practically shook and his breathing fast and shallow.

“You won't hurt me, Holmes. If you need instruction on how to prepa-”

“I know how to prepare a man for sodomy! It is not that, you idiot. Your leg is not up to strain that it would be placed under.”

I knew him to be correct, but in the state I was in I could not have cared less for my leg. I had been imagining him using my body for his pleasure for far too many months. “There must be a way, I need you most terribly.” I am almost ashamed to admit how I begged him.

His brow wrinkled in that particular way that indicated he was working out a puzzle. His hands all the while continued to caress and arouse. Finally when I though I could take no more, his face smoothed and he slid to the side.

“I will do as you ask, but you must do exactly what I tell you and do not move. Let me do the work,” he ordered.

“Anything,” I cried. He rose from the bed and went to his dresser where he removed a pot of Vaseline from a drawer. He returned to the bed and rolled me onto my side. He ran his tongue up the back of my neck to my ear. “Remember what you promised me, my dear Doctor. I do the work. If you move, I stop,” he warned before taking my lobe between his teeth.

He rolled me again until I was on my stomach. His hands ran along my spine and down to my buttocks. He spread the muscles and ran his thumbs along the crease and over the small opening. It was all I could do not to push back against them.

His hand fell away before returning, his fingers slick with the jelly from the pot. Two fingers slid inside. My hands clenched with the effort to not thrust back on those two wondrous digits. His mouth moved to my shoulders as his fingers slowly exited and entered my body. His lips and teeth suckled and bit at my flesh.

“Holmes. More,” I begged. His fingers pulled apart and stretched me further. This was an act that was never a difficulty for me. While I was most often the penetrator verses the penetratee, it had always been ridiculously easy to prepare me. One of my former lovers had remarked once that all I needed was a bit of something slick and to be bent over a desk. He had not been far off.

Holmes removed his fingers from my body and pulled me back onto my side so that my back rested against his chest. He slid his right arm under my body and grasped my left arm, keeping it clenched to my torso. He forced his left leg between mine and slid my leg over his so that the muscle was not in any way strained or pulled.

His cock slid easily into me and I bit my lip to prevent the cry that demanded to be released from escaping. I had no notion if the house was empty but if not, I had no wish to bring Mrs. Hudson running to see if anything was the matter. Holmes continued to push into me until he could go no further and there he came to a stop. I can not describe how it felt to finally have him fully inside me.

Still, as wondrous as it was I needed him to move. To take me, to own my body. My body could do nothing to encourage movement as he had told me he would stop. All I had were my words. I can not to this day remember what words I babbled but after a few moments of stillness he heeded my begging and slowly started to thrust. It was less than I'd hoped for but more than what he'd been doing previous.

I do remember begging for more, for him to go faster and harder and I could never forget how cruel he was in refusing me. I do not know how long he tormented me. Time was something that had no meaning that night. His hands and cock and mouth would bring me to the edge and he would stop and bring me back down. Over and over and over he did this until I could no longer remember my promise and my body strained take over, to force him. Only his arms and hands holding me down prevented me from moving. Finally and only then did he allow his passion to take over and my body was jarred with the power and ferocity of his thrusts. Had it not been for the hand he clamped over my mouth I surely would have brought the entire street to our doorstep, thinking that I was being murdered in a most excruciating way. And they would not be far wrong for I was convinced I was dying, for surely no human body could survive that much pleasure, that much ecstasy.

I can not be certain that I was not rendered unconscious but I can recall returning to myself for the last few of Holmes' thrusts into me before he spent his seed into my body. My shoulder still bears the faint teeth marks that are scarred into my skin from where he muzzled his cry at his completion. He apologizes to me still but I treasure it knowing that I was able to bring him so deep into his passion that he forgot himself and I know that for all of his words of regret he also cherishes the scars. Every time we make love his lips are drawn to that spot.

Once he had recovered he settled himself against me. His hips pressing tightly against my rear. His hands ran over my torso and every so often dipping down to caress my prick. I doubted that I'd be any good to him again that evening but his hands and the slowly softening cock deep inside me felt amazing.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked. His voice was roughened by the effort to remain silent during the height of his passion.

“Indeed. Most comfortable. If it would not insult you too terribly much I'm afraid that need to rest.”

I felt his nod against the back of my head and my hand grasped his hip as he started to pull away. “No. Stay. I want to fall into the arms of Morpheus surrounded and filled with you.” He relaxed and settled back against me.

“As you so desire, my dear John.” It was not long before I fell into the darkness and right before the darkness took hold I imagined that I heard Holmes whisper that he loved me and cherished me. I knew it was only my mind playing tricks with me but every fiber of my being wished that it was true.


It was still slightly dark when I woke and for a moment I was puzzled by the presence of another person in the bed beside me. It did not take me long however to remember the events of the previous evening. While I was still slightly abashed at being caught last night by the good doctor, who even now slept next to me, I could not find it within myself to regret any of it.

I sat up and peered at John through the dim light of the room. His face showed none of the tell tale signs of pain. This pleased me, as I had worried that the exertions of the night might have put a strain on his already stressed body. I ran my fingers over the marks I had left in his shoulder. They were deeper than I had thought they had been last night and had crusted over with blood. Once he awakened I would be sure to clean the wounds.

I am not one who leans towards romantic thoughts or speech but I couldn't help but feel as though I had been given everything I had ever wanted or desired. I had no qualms that my dear doctor loved me. No one who had seen him grieve at my death and had then witnessed his reaction to my resurrection could doubt that. I had no knowledge if he had been awake enough to hear the utterance of my feelings but I had hope that he had enough evidence to deduce them. However, knowing how lacking his skills were I had suspicions that I would have to relate them once again.

The clock in the parlor rang out the time and as much as I might have liked to have been here when John finally woke, I could not ignore the fact that Mrs. Hudson would be up shortly to see what we might wish for breakfast. I disentangled myself from John's arms and left the warmth of the bed. In only a few moments I was cleaned, dressed, and prepared to face our landlady. I could not stop myself from running a hand over his hair and dropping a soft kiss to his cheek.

It wasn't long after I had settled myself into my usual chair and opened one of my many books that I heard the woman's footsteps on the seventeen steps leading up to the rooms that we had rented. A soft knock sounded on the door.

"Come," I responded. The door opened and Mrs. Hudson entered. She looked around the room and frowned.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes." She glanced over her shoulder before looking back at me. "I couldn't help but notice that Dr. Watson's room was open. I expected to find him here. Has he left on a call so early?"

I had to fight a smile. I wouldn't do my reputation any good if it was known that I found the woman's worry over us endearing. "No, Mrs. Hudson. He is in my room. His wounds were bothering him a great deal last night and he took some of his medication. I didn't feel up to moving him to his room so I offered mine instead."

It was quite fascinating to watch the expression on her face vacillate from worry over the doctor's pain to pride over my own actions. I couldn't help but wonder what her expression would be if she had known what had happened in that room. Not that I would ever know what it might be, I had no intention of seeing either myself or John in a jail sentenced to hard labor.

"Well, that was quite kind of you, Mr. Holmes."

I waved a hand in dismissal. "Not really. It was only the logical thing to do. However, if I might implore you to perhaps prepare some of the good doctor's favorite items for breakfast? I'm sure it will go a good ways toward making him feel better."

She gave me a smile that I suspect many might refer to as maternal. "Of course, Mr. Holmes. I'll have it ready in forty minutes then?"

"That sounds excellent, Mrs. Hudson. Thank you." I had what John might call a hunch that some of my favorite dishes would be making an appearance as well.

Mrs. Hudson took her leave and I rose to my feet. John would do much better with a hot meal to start the day and if he was anything other than perfectly attired when Mrs. Hudson arrived with the food I'd be hearing about it all day. I was certain that waking the good doctor with a kiss and a repeat of what I had said last night would put him in an excellent mood for the day. And John was much easier to live with when he was in a good mood.

The End.

Sherlock Holmes Bedroom