Sherlock Holmes - A Single Moment
Title: A Single Moment
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/ Victor Trevor
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine! But I didn't invent the characters.
Summary: Victor receives some startling news.
Spoilers: Again, for GLOR, in a roundabout way
Warnings: Mentions of sexual acts.
Word Count: 700
Author's Notes: Follows on from 'Shameless'. The usual to beeinmybonnet, with added 'this is all your fault, and now Victor is going to cry.' Apologies to anyone offended by my possibly pathetic French.
Holmes and Victor enjoyed a quiet week after the strange visit from Hudson, with no arguments or events to speak of. It was, as far as Victor was concerned, absolute bliss. Waking up tangled with another person who meant the world to you, he decided, was an experience the worth of which could never be overstated.
Waking up with your cock in their mouth was a decided bonus. For whatever reason, Holmes had taken to that particular activity with impressive enthusiasm. He even argued that he did actually like the taste, but then Victor was convinced that he drank his tea hot enough that he couldn't possibly have a sense of taste most of the time anyway.
“You have ruined me for all future lovers, you know.” Victor managed to remark once Holmes had crawled back up the bed and was lying beside him again.
“I don't intend you to have future lovers,” Holmes kissed his neck softly, “I wasn't aware you did.”
“I don't suppose I do. Will you come and live here? When we've finished with university, I mean.” Victor ran a hand through Holmes' hair idly.
“Not sure. We could always go and live in London. No-one would bat an eyelid at two bachelors rooming together there.” Holmes rested his head on Victor's chest, and leaned in to the hand petting him.
Victor hummed thoughtfully. “We could alternate, I suppose. And go on ridiculously long holidays on the continent. You can teach me French.” He smiled.
“You mean the way you tried to teach me Greek?” Holmes grinned up at him.
“I was teaching it relevant words first.” Victor nodded sagely.
“I am highly unlikely to want to lay with anyone who only speaks Ancient Greek, Victor.”
“True enough. Perhaps learning a dead language was a mistake after all,” he paused thoughtfully, “all the more reason you should at least attempt to teach me.”
“Very well, repeat after me: Je veux te baiser.”
“Je veux te baiser.” Victor repeated a little awkwardly.
Holmes smiled slowly, “I know. The feeling is quite mutual.”
“What have I just agreed to?”
“Nothing you normally wouldn't.” Holmes grinned and knelt up to kiss Victor softly, before getting to work on his unintentional request.
The household had gotten used to the boys' tendency to be late risers, taking to serving breakfast when it was rightly time for lunch with very little complaint, and remarking only occasionally that it must be lovely to be a student if they could sleep in this long over the holidays, and shouldn't they be studying?
Victor would argue that he had been studying the most important thing in the world. Holmes would point out that since he rarely studied at college, it was ridiculous to expect him to do so when he was on a break.
The times Victor liked most, though, were the mid-afternoons spent in the sunroom, where Holmes would lie with his head on a cushion in Victor's lap (they had tried it without, but Holmes had complained of the lack of flesh on Victor's thighs often enough that Victor had forced him to use the pillow), while Victor read one of his books out loud, just softly enough that only Holmes could hear him. Holmes would poke his nose into his friend's belly, and occasionally fall asleep for short periods, then try to hide it by pointing out that the narrative didn't make any sense, and making Victor explain it to him again.
It was on one such afternoon that Lucy rushed into the room, nearly causing Holmes to fall on the floor in his haste to sit in a less compromising position. Victor turned, ready to give her a brief lecture on knocking before entering closed rooms, but then noticed her distress. He nodded for her to speak, instead.
“Oh, Master Victor, it's your father.” The girl bit her lip and scurried over with a letter, before disappearing as quickly as she could.
Victor tore the letter open frantically and read it, eyes widening at the two short lines on the page. He swallowed thickly, “I'm going to Hampshire, will you come?”
“Of course I will. Victor, what's wrong?” Holmes asked worriedly.
“Father's had a stroke.”
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: R
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/ Victor Trevor
Disclaimer: Mine, all mine! But I didn't invent the characters.
Summary: Victor receives some startling news.
Spoilers: Again, for GLOR, in a roundabout way
Warnings: Mentions of sexual acts.
Word Count: 700
Author's Notes: Follows on from 'Shameless'. The usual to beeinmybonnet, with added 'this is all your fault, and now Victor is going to cry.' Apologies to anyone offended by my possibly pathetic French.
Holmes and Victor enjoyed a quiet week after the strange visit from Hudson, with no arguments or events to speak of. It was, as far as Victor was concerned, absolute bliss. Waking up tangled with another person who meant the world to you, he decided, was an experience the worth of which could never be overstated.
Waking up with your cock in their mouth was a decided bonus. For whatever reason, Holmes had taken to that particular activity with impressive enthusiasm. He even argued that he did actually like the taste, but then Victor was convinced that he drank his tea hot enough that he couldn't possibly have a sense of taste most of the time anyway.
“You have ruined me for all future lovers, you know.” Victor managed to remark once Holmes had crawled back up the bed and was lying beside him again.
“I don't intend you to have future lovers,” Holmes kissed his neck softly, “I wasn't aware you did.”
“I don't suppose I do. Will you come and live here? When we've finished with university, I mean.” Victor ran a hand through Holmes' hair idly.
“Not sure. We could always go and live in London. No-one would bat an eyelid at two bachelors rooming together there.” Holmes rested his head on Victor's chest, and leaned in to the hand petting him.
Victor hummed thoughtfully. “We could alternate, I suppose. And go on ridiculously long holidays on the continent. You can teach me French.” He smiled.
“You mean the way you tried to teach me Greek?” Holmes grinned up at him.
“I was teaching it relevant words first.” Victor nodded sagely.
“I am highly unlikely to want to lay with anyone who only speaks Ancient Greek, Victor.”
“True enough. Perhaps learning a dead language was a mistake after all,” he paused thoughtfully, “all the more reason you should at least attempt to teach me.”
“Very well, repeat after me: Je veux te baiser.”
“Je veux te baiser.” Victor repeated a little awkwardly.
Holmes smiled slowly, “I know. The feeling is quite mutual.”
“What have I just agreed to?”
“Nothing you normally wouldn't.” Holmes grinned and knelt up to kiss Victor softly, before getting to work on his unintentional request.
The household had gotten used to the boys' tendency to be late risers, taking to serving breakfast when it was rightly time for lunch with very little complaint, and remarking only occasionally that it must be lovely to be a student if they could sleep in this long over the holidays, and shouldn't they be studying?
Victor would argue that he had been studying the most important thing in the world. Holmes would point out that since he rarely studied at college, it was ridiculous to expect him to do so when he was on a break.
The times Victor liked most, though, were the mid-afternoons spent in the sunroom, where Holmes would lie with his head on a cushion in Victor's lap (they had tried it without, but Holmes had complained of the lack of flesh on Victor's thighs often enough that Victor had forced him to use the pillow), while Victor read one of his books out loud, just softly enough that only Holmes could hear him. Holmes would poke his nose into his friend's belly, and occasionally fall asleep for short periods, then try to hide it by pointing out that the narrative didn't make any sense, and making Victor explain it to him again.
It was on one such afternoon that Lucy rushed into the room, nearly causing Holmes to fall on the floor in his haste to sit in a less compromising position. Victor turned, ready to give her a brief lecture on knocking before entering closed rooms, but then noticed her distress. He nodded for her to speak, instead.
“Oh, Master Victor, it's your father.” The girl bit her lip and scurried over with a letter, before disappearing as quickly as she could.
Victor tore the letter open frantically and read it, eyes widening at the two short lines on the page. He swallowed thickly, “I'm going to Hampshire, will you come?”
“Of course I will. Victor, what's wrong?” Holmes asked worriedly.
“Father's had a stroke.”