Sherlock Holmes - Reminisces of an Early Acquaintance
Title: Reminisces of an Early Acquaintance
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: PG (one less-than-polite word)
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor (almost entirely pre-slash)
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine. I don't look that old, do I?
Summary: The story of Sherlock Holmes' friendship with Victor Trevor.
Spoilers: Minor for The Gloria Scott (and you probably won't get it if you haven't read it).
Warnings: Excessive tea.
Word Count: 9,600
Author's Notes: For beeinmybonnet, who is much of the driving force behind Victor's personality. And possibly the only other person in the world who 'ships it. Also filling my schmoop_bingo 'friendship' square.
“-about yesterday. Yes, I know. You said so quite profusely at the time.” Holmes didn't bother opening his eyes to speak.'>Day One
“Ah, I'm in the right place, then.” The smiling face of Victor Trevor peered around the door to Sherlock Holmes' rooms. “May I come in? I'm-”
“The fellow with the dog. Trevor, wasn't it?” The other man nodded. “Coming inside would be much better than standing in the hallway, if you intend to speak to me.”
Holmes closed his eyes again and waited to hear the door click shut. He did not miss the fact that he was no longer alone in the room.
“Look, I'm sorry-”
“-about yesterday. Yes, I know. You said so quite profusely at the time.” Holmes didn't bother opening his eyes to speak.
“Right. I take it you're still angry, then?”
“My being angry with you would accomplish nothing. Neither will further apologies.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Well, I suppose you'd refuse an offer of a nurse until you heal?” Victor smiled nervously.
Holmes finally opened his eyes at this to fix the stranger in his rooms with a look that would have wilted even the most self-assured of men. “You suppose correctly. Is there something you want, Mr. Trevor?”
“No. Well, just to apologise again. I'll, uh, I'll be going now.”
“Good day to you, then.” Holmes listened again for the door to open and close. At least that had been an interesting distraction.
Day Two
The door had opened and closed before Holmes bothered to look. It could only possibly be one person. “Back again, I see.”
Trevor started, “how on Earth did you know it was me? Or have you had a lot of repeat visitors?”
“You wear too much cologne,” Holmes propped himself up and looked at his visitor, “and hurt your own leg helping me. Your tread is slightly uneven. Additionally, you are probably the only person within travelling distance who knows me. So I will ask again - is there something I can do for you?”
The other man brightened and took a few steps towards the settee. “It's more a case of what I can do for you. It must be terribly boring, lying there all day. I thought I might provide some company. It is, after all, my duty; since your injuries are my fault.”
“My injuries are your dog's fault. It gives me time to think in peace, and I would much rather you not stay out of a warped sense of propriety, Mr. Trevor.”
“Please, call me Victor - Mr. Trevor is my father,” Victor retrieved a chair from under the desk and pulled it over to the settee, “and my dog's training is my responsibility. What if I told you I was here because you interest me?”
Holmes shot Victor a second withering look before closing his eyes again. “What possible interest could you have in me? You barely know me.”
A private, enigmatic smile flitted across Victor's face. “That is exactly the point. Omne ignotum pro magnifico.”
“I am sure there are a great many other things you don't know.”
“Indeed, I am certain you are correct. However, none of those things are quite so...captivating, at the moment.”
A snort of laughter came from the man on the settee. “Well, if you expect to find me magnificent, you will be sorely disappointed.”
“Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Your little trick earlier - figuring out who I was without looking - was fairly impressive.”
“That was neither a trick, nor anything you couldn't do yourself, if you paid more attention to your surroundings. However, it is also how I know that you have a lecture to attend in just over ten minutes.”
A pocket-watch was produced with due speed, and Victor's eyes widened. “How did you do that?” He found himself asking as he rose from the chair.
“That is for me to know, and you to find out.”
“Was that an invitation?”
“Go to your lecture” Holmes opened his eyes and looked up, “goodbye, Victor.” He heard the other man chuckling softly as he left.
Day Three
“Wearing a different cologne is not enough to fool me when you're the only one who could possibly be here.” Holmes stretched his arms above his head and yawned sleepily. “All this doing nothing is making me terribly tired, you know.”
“It was someone else's. We aren't speaking any more.” The other man remarked casually. “How did you know I had a lecture yesterday?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“I thought it wasn't a trick?” Victor pulled the chair from the desk again to sit down near the settee.
“Not true. You thought it was a trick. I'm the one who thinks it isn't. The same trick allows me to know that you come from new money, but are still here on scholarship. There is also something fairly important that I can't quite figure out about you, but I know it's there.”
“So I am something of a puzzle to you as well? Good.”
“Why good? And I am right, aren't I?”
“Correct on all counts. I'll let you work out the last part for yourself, though.” He grinned brightly. “It's good, because it means I haven't worn out my welcome, yet.”
“Yes, well. Some intellectual stimulation is better than nothing, and you do provide some.”
“Oh, stimulation is certainly something I can provide.”
Holmes looked up oddly. “I did just say so. Rarely do I speak idly.”
“No, I'm sure you don't.” Victor leaned back comfortably on his chair. “So, what is it that Sherlock Holmes is doing here? At university, I mean, not lying on his sofa.”
“Oh, a bit of everything. Chemistry, biology, physics. Science. I doubt it would interest you.”
“If it's to do with you, I'm interested. I can't promise to understand anything, but I'd like to hear about it.”
“No you wouldn't, there is little point in lying to me.”
“I'm beginning to see that, yes. Has anyone ever told you you're difficult to get on with?”
“Actually, no. They usually just avoid me.”
“Oh.” Victor's face fell. “Well, that's their mistake, then. I'll just have you all to myself.” He smiled brightly.
“And I, you, apparently. Don't you have other people to bother?”
“No, actually. As I said, we had a fight. And you don't mean that - I think you've rather enjoyed my company. How is your ankle, by the way?”
“Well, I've stopped bleeding through the bandages, which is definitely an improvement. Any more over-sweet, over-white tea, and I feared I may have been put off it forever.”
“Funny, I was just about to ask after a cup. I suppose I'll suffer on in silence, then?”
“In fact, I keep a boiler on for the purpose. Not for the purpose of company, but for the purpose of tea on demand. You'll find it behind that stack of papers over there.” Holmes pointed to a bench which looked mostly to be covered in chemical apparatus and newspapers.
Victor picked his way across the room to dig out the alcohol boiler, a teapot, and two mismatched cups under Holmes' directions.
“Yes, thank you, I am actually aware of the basics of tea-making. No wonder you never have any company.” He teased as Holmes continued to offer instructions.
“If I am so 'difficult to get on with', as you might say, why do you persist in trying?”
Instead of trying to find a tray of some sort, and a clear spot on a table, Victor decided on pouring two cups - one over-white and over-sweet, and the other black and without sugar, and carrying them over. He handed the black one to Holmes.
“Good Lord, you might as well have warmed some milk and dropped four lumps of sugar in it.” Holmes wrinkled his nose at the state of his companion's tea.
“I'm not making you drink it, am I? Is a man not permitted, in this great empire of ours, to drink his tea as he pleases? Besides, someone needed to finish off the bottle of milk.”
“And what if I had wanted it?”
“You didn't. You don't take milk in your tea if you can avoid it. I think that means I've done you a favour.” Victor smiled over the top of his tea cup.
“Funny sort of favour, isn't it?”
“I'm a funny sort of person. You'll get used to it.”
“And what makes you think I have any inclination to 'get used to it'?”
Victor smiled brightly again, “you haven't kicked me out yet. And you won't.”
“Sure of yourself, aren't you?”
“I have good reason to be.”
“Oh yes?” Holmes looked up, “and why might that be?”
A broad grin spread across Victor's face as he gulped down the remainder of his tea. “I'll tell you tomorrow,” he stood and dusted off trousers and jacket, “goodbye, Sherlock.”
“Don't call me that!” Holmes called after Victor's retreating form. He listened to the sound of chuckling until it faded completely.
Day Four
“You are mistaken, my friend, if you think that a man who is worth anything ought to spend his time weighing up the prospects of life and death. He has only one thing to consider in performing any action; that is, whether he is acting justly or unjustly, like a good man or a bad one.”
“Pardon me?” Victor began his familiar ritual of pulling up a chair to the settee with a confused frown on his face.
“How I knew you had a lecture the other day. You had 'Apology 28b' written on your cuff. Did you never look it up?”
“No. No, I forgot to.”
“Oh. Well, then, I suppose the effect is mostly lost. My point was, that I knew 'Apology 28b' had to refer to Plato's Apology, and that therefore you likely studied Greek literature. I also know what time the lecture for second-year students is in that subject, so it was no great leap for me to state that you were due to go for your lecture. I also know that you are missing one now.” Holmes looked at his companion disapprovingly.
“I see. I wasn't aware that you were in charge of attendance.”
“I'm not. I just think your education is considerably more important than your fleeting fascination with me.”
“Thank you, father. I'll take that under advisement. What makes you think it's fleeting?”
“Good, I can get back to enjoying your company without feeling guilty.” Holmes smiled quickly, “and of course it's fleeting - everything is.”
“So you are enjoying my company, then?”
“I don't ever recall saying I wasn't. Some company is proving to be better than none.”
“Oh, flattery. Be still my beating heart,” Victor grinned for a second, “am I really the only visitor you've had?”
“Yes, Victor, you are really the only person who has come to see me.”
“I see. Well, I'm worth ten people anyway, with my charm and charisma, so perhaps it's just as well. Couldn't have you overwhelmed with human companionship. You might accidentally enjoy yourself and put the rest of us out of our misery.” Victor looked mortified the moment the words had left his mouth.
“That wasn't fair. I didn't ask you to come here.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” He stood up to leave, looking for all the world as though his dog had just died.
Holmes looked away. “Take the bottle of milk on the sideboard with you, if you'd be so kind. I have no use for it.”
He didn't look at the door until the sound of footsteps faded in the hallway. It wasn't closed properly, but he decided he'd wait for a breeze to do the work.
Day Five
The knock on the door at four in the afternoon startled Holmes out of a fitful doze. He had called out for whoever it was to come in before realising who it had to be. Victor's head poked around the door, smiling sheepishly. “May I bring the invalid a peace offering?”
“I suppose you may, if he can't convince you it would be a bad idea.”
“I remain unconvinced.” Victor stepped through the door holding a medium-sized, white cardboard box. “I thought I might ply you with sweets. You do eat, don't you? It's just that I've never seen you do so.” He bit his lip nervously.
“I have been known to, on occasion. Most people do, you know.” Holmes peered at the box curiously.
“Yes, but you are far elevated above most people.”
“Now who's the flatterer?”
“Flattery implies a note of untruth. I am here, instead of with my other so-called friends, because you are a better class of person.”
“Hmm. You mean to say you've had a fight with them.”
“Yes, but because they had it coming. I should thank you for making me remember what good people are like.” He smiled gently, “So, I thought we might have a little picnic.” He brightened, and opened the box to reveal a selection of sweet pastries. “I had no idea what you might prefer, so I decided to get a little of everything and have mentally prepared for a long stay.”
“You don't think I'll throw you out?”
“I am an eternal optimist. And I think you are at least a little fond of me.”
Holmes smiled wryly. “There may be an element of truth to that. You've become something of a fixture.”
“I'll take that. Fixture it is.” Victor grinned nervously. “So. Tea?”
“That would be most acceptable, thank you.”
The ritual of tea-preparation was undertaken in much the same manner as it had been before, but with considerably less interruptions from the settee. Victor was surprised to discover a full bottle of fresh milk sitting next to the teacup he'd used last time, which had mysteriously made its way across the room.
“I see you have been visited by the dairy elves.” He smiled gratefully, holding up the small glass bottle.
“Visited by the busybody nurse, more like.” Holmes grumbled.
“Anything you say, Sherlock.”
“I have told you not to call me that.”
“And what would you have me call you instead, hmm? I'm not going to call you 'Holmes', it makes you sound old.”
“Well, I feel old, stuck in this room all week.” Holmes shifted and drew his legs up to his chest, and Victor wasted no time in occupying the now-empty space on the settee, handing Holmes his teacup.
“It's not forever. And you'd feel older if you had to walk with a cane for the rest of your life because you didn't let it heal properly.”
“You know,” Holmes looked up, a hint of a smile visible in his eyes, “that is exactly what the nurse said earlier today. Frightful old bat.”
“I do hope you aren't calling me an old bat.”
“Not at all,” Holmes unfolded his legs again and rested his feet on Victor's lap, “I was merely making the observation that you make a much better nurse, since I don't feel the need to throttle you. And you made my tea without milk.” He smiled brightly.
“Ah, so the key to your affections is knowing how not to add milk to your tea. Fascinating. I would think it an easy enough skill to come by.”
“You'd be surprised.”
“I am often surprised when it comes to you.” Victor found that he was stroking Holmes' good ankle with one finger, but as the other man hadn't said anything, he decided not to stop. “Well, despite the fact that that was an unpleasant thing to say about a lady-”
“That nurse was not a lady. Ladies are delicate and gentle, and she was neither.”
“As I was saying, despite your appalling attitude towards the nurse,” He smiled to show that he wasn't serious, “I am more than happy to continue to remember not to put milk in your tea.”
“You can stay, then. People who make tea without milk are a valuable commodity.” Holmes stated, looking as serious as he ever had.
“Hmm. Thank you, I do believe I will.” Victor smiled and fell into drinking his tea quietly.
“Victor,” Holmes started a little at his own use of the name, “what are you doing here?”
“I like it here. It's peaceful. No-one knows where I am, and the company doesn't expect anything of me.”
“Now that is patently untrue. I expect you to provide conversation and make tea. I may be loathe to let you move, as well, because your body heat is doing wonders for my ankle.” Holmes leaned back against the arm of the settee and closed his eyes.
“True enough, I suppose. But I'd rather talk to you and make you tea than deal with the sorts knocking on my door at all hours.”
“Ah, well, if they're worse than me, you have my sympathy.”
Victor pinched Holmes' foot. “Believe me, you could knock on my door at any hour you chose and be welcomed with open arms. After I kicked whoever was already there out.”
“You wouldn't introduce me to your friends?”
“I wouldn't introduce them to you. You're far too good for them.”
“Flattering me again, I see.”
“Perhaps, but you haven't met any of them. You should consider yourself lucky for that.”
“Well, I'll try not to run in to any of your friends, then. Are we going to have that picnic that you promised me?” Holmes opened his eyes to peer inquisitively at his companion.
“I thought I wasn't allowed to move?” Victor had barely finished speaking when the box was thrust into his hands.
“You aren't,” Holmes wiggled his feet, “I'm more comfortable than I have been in days.”
“Happy to be of service,” he held out the box to Holmes, “go on, then. They say a man's choice of pastry tells you a lot about him.”
“What does it say about me that I have no idea what most of these are?” Holmes extracted one of the offerings from the box and inspected it.
“It says that no-one spoils you enough. Or possibly, that you aren't fond of baked goods. In which case, I have made an error.”
As opposed to a verbal response, Holmes took a bite of his pastry and moaned happily, closing his eyes. Victor stared.
“Right, well,” he swallowed thickly, “I'll just have to spoil you more, then.”
Holmes hummed cheerfully with his mouth full before answering. “I will eventually stop you. I am pliable at the moment because of my injury, but this is not my usual way.”
“I shall endeavour to work around that.” Victor watched intently as Holmes' tongue darted out to collect crumbs from his bottom lip.
“You're welcome to try.” Holmes went back to munching contentedly and sipping at his tea. “Aren't you going to eat?”
“I had a late lunch. With unpleasant company, so I kept my mouth full the whole time to avoid having to speak to them. I doubt I'll have to eat all weekend, but hopefully they won't have me back again.” Victor grinned.
“You could simply have refused the invitation.” Holmes pointed out reasonably.
“No, I couldn't. There are certain social things one must do. Like you said, new money. I have to at least make an effort to fit in.”
“Victor Trevor is going places, is he?” Holmes teased.
“Aren't you? Isn't that why you're here?”
“I'm here for an education. I have no interest in climbing the social ladder. You will also find that on my back is not the place to start, if that's what you're interested in.”
“The thought never crossed my mind, actually. But now that you mention it, why? Pardon me for saying so, but you seem to come from money.”
“Mmm, old money at that. Except that I'm not going to inherit, being the product of my father's second marriage and the youngest of three. So you see, I am not the sort you should be associating with.”
“Oh well,” Victor shrugged, “I'll just have to become an eccentric.”
“I think it's a little too late for that.” Holmes grinned behind the rim of his teacup.
“You could well be right. I am, after all, shunning the fashionable crowd in favour of having tea with a man who was savaged by my dog. The worst part is, I'm thoroughly enjoying it.”
“I won't tell anyone if you won't.”
“You mean this isn't the highlight of your year?” Victor did his best to look thoroughly scandalised by the idea.
“Hard to call being invalided a highlight, don't you think?”
“You are, of course, quite correct.” Victor smiled softly, and then added quietly; “I wonder what it says that it may well be the highlight of mine.”
“It says you're easily pleased. Or that you have an unhealthy enjoyment of other people's pain, in which case I am making a grave error in letting you near my ankle.” Holmes tried to look serious, but the effect was rather ruined by the smile he couldn't quite hold back.
“How is your ankle, by the way?”
“Fine at the moment. Healing nicely, I'm told. Not infected, thankfully.”
“Pity. If I'd had to nurse you through a fever, you'd have been terribly grateful.”
“It would be your fault; I'm not sure I'd be obliged to be grateful for that.”
“Perhaps not. I dare say you'd be very cross with me indeed.”
“Doubtful. My being cross with you would accomplish nothing.”
Victor paused thoughtfully. “That's important to you, isn't it? That actions have a purpose?”
“It is, yes. Which is why I'm having so much difficulty figuring you out. I cannot see what motive you have for visiting me all the time - what's in it for you?”
A nervous laugh was Victor's first response. “You are in it for me. Friendship is a valuable thing, especially if you manage to find a friend who isn't frightfully boring, or demanding, or likely to get you thrown in gaol.”
Holmes frowned oddly. “And do you have many friends who are bores, solicitous, or budding felons?”
“All but one, I think. If I can call you a friend?”
“What obligations would I be under if I agreed to be your friend?”
There was a long pause in which Victor blinked several times, before deciding the question had been in earnest. “You would have to acknowledge me if we ran into one another. Allow me to keep visiting you while you heal, and let me return your hospitality when you're up to it. Put up with my habit of drinking sweet, milky tea. Listen to what I have to say with respect, regardless of whether you agree. In return, I would be obliged to do all of these things as well. Additionally, I would never add milk to your tea. Anything beyond that is a gesture of friendly affection. Do we have an accord?”
Holmes smiled brightly, and stuck out his hand. “I believe we do.”
Victor chuckled and shook Holmes' hand firmly. “Good. Well, in answer to your earlier question, all but one. It's nice to have a break from them.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, and Victor found himself making a second cup of tea when Holmes was finished with his first.
“Not that I'm complaining, but how long do you intend to stay?” Holmes spoke up after a while.
“Until you kick me out? I could stay in your rooms all night and have everyone talking.” Victor smiled brightly.
“Talking about what?” Holmes frowned in confusion.
Victor looked at him strangely. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“No. If you don't know, that's all the better for you, and I'm not going to be the one to tell you.”
Holmes crossed his arms and glared at Victor petulantly. “I don't think friends are supposed to hide things from each other.”
“I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm simply saving you from an unpleasant untruth.”
“Fine.” Holmes looked away, lips pursed.
“Oh, don't fall out with me over this. It really is nothing. A trifle.”
“Trifles can be very important. Remember the writing on your cuff?”
Victor smiled fondly. “Yes, I do.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment, and then drained his cup. “I suppose I should be going. You get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, friend.” Came a small voice from the settee.
Day Six
Holmes would have liked to think that he didn't light up at the knock on the door, but he was in the habit of being honest with himself about such things.
“Morning, Victor.” He feigned disinterest in his guest, who beamed brightly from the door.
“You aren't still upset with me, are you?”
“Why should I be?” Holmes continued to sound indifferent.
“Fine. Then I'm going to assume you aren't. Did I miss anything exciting while I was gone?”
“You've only been gone for,” Holmes paused to glance at his pocket-watch, “twelve hours, give or take. I slept for most of them.”
“And what did you do with the ones you didn't sleep for?”
“None of your business. Are you coming inside, or not?”
“Or not, actually.”
Holmes couldn't entirely hide his disappointment. “Oh, well, I shan't keep you, then.”
“Ah, but you shall.” Victor opened the door properly to reveal a wheelchair. “I am not coming inside, because you are going outside.”
“Why?”
“You complained about being stuck in here. This is one of the benefits of having friends.”
A slight smile appeared on Holmes' face for a moment, and it was returned fondly by the man standing at the door.
“Coming?”
“I'm afraid you're going to have to help me, unless you'd like me to crawl.” Holmes answered with a measure of sarcasm. Victor sighed and entered the room, moving over to the couch and insinuating his shoulder under Holmes'.
“I apologise for not thinking of everything. I propose we make you the brains of the operation, and I'll be the socially adept, attractive one.” He encouraged Holmes to stand.
“Someone thinks highly of themselves.”
“I'm not attractive?” Victor forced himself to look hurt.
“From an objective standpoint, you have symmetrical, matching features, a medium build, good posture, and you dress well. That doesn't mean that being aware of it is an attractive quality.” Holmes expounded while they made the short but slow trip to the door.
“So you do think I'm attractive, then?” He smiled brightly.
“From an objective standpoint.” Holmes repeated, nodding solemnly as he made himself comfortable.
Victor snatched up the blanket from the settee and draped it over Holmes' legs. “Whatever you say, Sherlock. From an objective standpoint, you're a little thin, but it suits you.”
Holmes hummed contemplatively as Victor started wheeling him down the hall. “So we're agree, then. From an objective standpoint, we're both attractive. I'll let you be socially adept.”
“Thank goodness for that. We couldn't have me as the brains.” Victor struggled to hold open the door and push Holmes through it at the same time, finally coming to the conclusion that it would be best to go through it backwards. Holmes snorted.
“No, indeed. Then we would be in rather a mess.”
The day was not overly warm, but the sun was at least out, and there was a pleasant light about the the place. Holmes took in his surroundings calmly until he spotted a familiar dog.
“No.” He stated loudly, and with more than a little fear.
“Yes. Sorry, but I've been lax in exercising him lately, and as I intend to spend the day with you, he'll have to come with us. He's really a good dog, most of the time. I'm not sure what got into him.”
“About half an ounce of my flesh got into him. What if he's decided he likes how I taste?”
“He coughed it up. I think you're safe.”
Holmes wrinkled his nose. “That's not at all reassuring. And mildly disgusting.”
“I will not let Cerberus do you any harm, you have my word.” Victor smiled softly.
“Fine.” Holmes sighed and crossed his arms. “If I am injured again, you will have to start helping me with my work. Which will begin with dissecting your dog.”
“I would rather not choose between you and the dog. If you behave, he will.”
The dog barked lazily as Victor untied him, and trotted over at his master's heel. Holmes tensed up, but on remembering that he'd read somewhere that dogs could smell fear, forced himself to relax. The dog sat when Victor stopped, floppy pink tongue hanging out of its deceptively innocent mouth. Holmes glared.
“Don't look at him like that. Here, hold out the back of your hand, like this.” Victor demonstrated, holding his hand relaxed, with the back facing towards the dog's nose. It sniffed at it for a moment, and then licked enthusiastically, causing Victor to laugh softly. “See? He's all bark and very little bite. Like his master.”
Holmes scoffed softly. “His master hasn't bitten me,” he paused thoughtfully, “yet.”
Victor grinned. “Hold your hand out for him. Please.” Holmes huffed, but eventually held his hand out cautiously as Victor had shown him. The dog sniffed good-naturedly and then gave it a disinterested lick before padding away to stand by Victor's legs. Holmes fought to contain his relief.
“I told you you'd be safe.” Victor leaned down to whisper in Holmes' ear, “I won't let you get hurt. I'm rather fond of you.”
Still nervous, Holmes settled himself into the wheelchair more comfortably, adjusting his blanket needlessly. “I don't like dogs.”
Victor grinned and started them off towards the botanic gardens. Cerberus trotted lazily alongside them, occasionally going off to sniff at something interesting, but always returning like a very well-trained animal. Victor carefully did not point this out.
“Do you know much about plants?” Holmes tilted his head back to look up at his friend.
“A little. Over there, for example,” he pointed to a vivid purple flower, “is Morning Glory. And that one,” he indicated a large tree, “is a pear tree. Aren't the blossoms lovely?”
“Fond of flowers, are you?” Holmes continued to look up, letting his head loll around on the back of the chair.
“Fond of beautiful things.” Victor smiled down gently.
“Ah. I take it there's a pretty young heiress back home waiting for you to finish your education?”
The hearty laughter that sprang from Victor was entirely unexpected, and Holmes spent the next minute or so while Victor enjoyed the apparent hilarity of his statement.
“No,” he continued to laugh, catching his breath slowly, “No, there are certainly no girls of any sort waiting for me anywhere.”
“I can't see why that's so funny. Isn't your mother pestering you about finding a nice girl so she'll have dozens of grandchildren?”
Victor swallowed. “My mother...she's dead.”
“Oh,” Holmes continued to look up at Victor, contemplating this new information, “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“You aren't, but thank you for saying so,” Victor sighed heavily, “it was a long time ago, I'm over it.”
“You aren't,” Holmes began, “but thank you for trying to make me comfortable.” Victor laughed softly. “I am sorry that you're sad about it, though.”
“Thank you.” Victor looked back up and they continued along in silence for a few minutes. “So, enjoying the fresh air, are you?”
Holmes dropped his head back again to look up. “Yes, I find I rather am. The company certainly helps with that.” He smiled brightly.
“And now the wheel turns full circle, and you are flattering me?” Victor smirked, “people will talk.”
“You still haven't told me what they will talk about, you know. I can't see that there's anything terribly unusual going on.”
“You're right, there's not. But students are worse than spinster aunts when it comes to gossip.” Victor patted Holmes shoulder, and then spotted what he'd been looking for and knelt beside the wheelchair to point to it.
“Do you see that crop of flowers over there?” He pointed to a group of flowers of different shades of blue, purple and pink, with dozens of little star-shaped blooms covering them. Holmes nodded. “Those are hyacinths. Aren't they beautiful?”
“From an objective standpoint, I'm sure they attract the necessary insects to pollinate them.” Holmes allowed, nodding decisively.
“You and your objective standpoint.” Victor chuckled and shook his head, “actually, they don't need to be pollinated; they grow from a bulb. Their beauty is wholly without necessity - do you know the myth attached to them?”
“I am afraid we have hit a wall in my knowledge.”
“In other words, no.” Victor smiled enigmatically, “I'll have to lend you a copy. You might learn one or two more things while you're at it.”
“I don't see why you couldn't just tell me.” Holmes adjusted his blanket again, picking at invisible dust.
“That would take all the fun out of it. And there are some things a man has to form his own opinion on.”
Holmes seemed to accept this, and they continued on their way in a comfortable silence. Cerberus, who Holmes had almost completely forgotten about, interrupted about fifteen minutes later by deciding that he was done with walking, and Holmes' lap looked like a better prospect for transport. Holmes yelped, and froze when a twenty pound dog leaped onto him and licked his face enthusiastically.
“Cerberus!” Victor barked sternly, “get off him, you horrible mutt.” The dog looked woefully at Victor for a second before climbing off Holmes' lap. Victor walked around the chair and knelt in front of Holmes. “I do apologise. He seems determined to show me up.” Cerberus sat down next to his master, and for a moment Holmes was struck by the identical looks of soft apology and anxiousness. He breathed deeply, and then smiled down at both of them.
“He didn't do me any harm,” Holmes paused for a moment, and then offered his hand to the dog as he had before, “well, not much, anyway. Have you got a handkerchief?” Victor fished his handkerchief out of his jacket and held it out to Holmes, who inspected it to be sure it was clean, and then used it to wipe the dog's saliva off his face.
“Keep it. Don't say I never gave you anything.” Victor grinned up at him.
Holmes sighed dramatically. “If the dog wants to sit on my knee, let him. As long as he doesn't lick me.”
“He has four perfectly good legs with which to walk.” Victor stood.
“Nevertheless, I can understand his need to rest.”
“You have a very good heart. But Cerberus needs the exercise. We can worry about you two getting along some other day. Do you need to rest?”
“I believe I am resting. The nurse would throw a fit if she saw this, though.” Holmes grinned at that idea.
Victor chuckled. “It's good that you have such respect for the medical profession. Although I can see your point about her.” He started them on their walk again.
“Ah, so you've had a run in with her as well, have you?”
“Hmm, once or twice. I've since learned to deal with my own illness and injuries. I can show you the scar from my first encounter later.”
“Is it somewhere embarrassing?” Holmes grinned up eagerly.
“Only my arm, I'm afraid. But I'd have to take off my jacket to show you, and it isn't as warm as it could be.”
“Oh. It is getting rather cold, isn't it?”
A mischievous smile flitted across Victor's face. “You seem disappointed. Did you want to see my embarrassing bits?”
Holmes blushed, eyes wide. “No. I'd just like to think that I'm not the only one who's done himself an injury he'd rather forget about.” He shifted uncomfortably.
“I was only teasing. You'll have to put in a bit more effort for that.” He grinned again.
“Victor!” Holmes looked genuinely scandalised at the notion.
“I'm joking.”
“You're not funny.”
“Shall I get you some pearls to clutch?”
“Oh, do shut up.” Holmes sighed heavily. “I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to having a friend.”
“It's quite all right. I should learn when to stop pushing. My other so-called friends wouldn't even have batted an eyelid at that. Which I suppose shows rather more about their characters than they might like.” He smiled wryly. “I won't upset you like that again.”
“I'll get used to it, no doubt.” Holmes smiled back.
They fell into another comfortable silence as Victor began to slowly turn them back towards Holmes' rooms, and then chatted idly about varieties of flowers as they headed back.
Day Seven
The knock on the door roused Holmes from what had been the best quality sleep he'd had in a long time. Victor's sheepish smile greeted him from the door.
“Good morning - listen, I can't stay, but I promised you this,” he brandished a book, “and I thought I'd drop it off before I go to see my frankly horrible uncle. I'm afraid I won't be back until quite late.” He crossed the room efficiently and handed Holmes a thin volume of Greek myths. “The story you're looking for is in there - it'll probably keep you better company than I do.” Victor smiled.
Accepting the book easily enough, Holmes shifted to sit up a bit on the settee. “Well, I suppose I can make do for one day.” He smiled as brightly as he could.
“I'll come to see you first thing tomorrow, classical literature be damned. I imagine you'll have questions anyway, and they say the best way to learn is to teach.” Victor nodded firmly. “And now I'm afraid I must depart. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”
“No, I'm quite comfortable, thank you.”
“Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your book.” Victor rushed away, not particularly enthusiastically, and Holmes watched him go with more than mild disappointment, before settling down to read.
Day Eight
“This is what I was missing, isn't it?” Holmes waved the book at Victor as he peered around the door.
“My interest in Greek mythology?” Victor entered the room sheepishly. “Yesterday was just as hellish as I said it would be, by the way. But no, I'm fine, thank you. Not in need of any sort of consolation. Tea would be lovely, thank you. No, don't get up, I'll get it.” He hurried over to the boiler and set about making tea.
“Victor, I am not talking about your interest in Greek mythology, unless we're using 'Greek mythology' as a euphemism for 'Greek love'. Which I wasn't, but I suppose you might be.”
Victor sighed heavily, and remained resolutely facing the wall, shoulders tensed. “Are you about to tell me to get out and never come back again?”
Silence stretched out for long moments. Finally, Holmes spoke up again, voice quiet and unsure. “No. I'm not.” He paused again. “I'm sorry to hear that you didn't enjoy yourself yesterday.”
“Thank you.” Victor choked out, holding on to the table-edge tightly, as though it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“I'm not sure what I should say.”
“I don't even know what I want you to say.” Victor continued to stare at the wall.
“What did you hope to achieve by telling me?”
“I didn't tell you. I let you work it out for yourself.”
“Victor...” Holmes began, and then trailed off. He was silent for several moments, before breathing deeply to speak again. “I need time. I can only ask you, as my friend, to understand that.”
Victor nodded towards the wall. “Of course. All the time you need.” He left in a hurry, not daring to look at Holmes as he went. To the trained observer huddled on the settee, it was obvious that he was trembling.
Day Nine
Victor flung the door to Holmes' room open, face red and panting heavily. “What's happened?”
Startled, Holmes looked up from where he had been dozing quietly on the settee. “Nothing?” He answered dazedly.
“Your note,” Victor gulped air deeply, “you sent for me. 'Come at once', it said. I thought something dreadful must have happened.”
“Oh, I do apologise for frightening you. I merely meant to inform you that I have finished thinking.”
“Already?” Victor swallowed thickly, certain that he was about to hear something unpleasant.
“It is not a particularly complex problem,” Holmes sat up, leaving a space free on the settee, but Victor didn't dare to take it, “the facts, as far as I can see them, are these; you have been an invert since before I met you, even though I didn't know it. You and I have become friends, and you have been very kind to me these past few days, and despite the fact that the initial injury was your fault, I am grateful. You are the same man today as you were yesterday, or indeed last week, and we have gotten on well. I see no reason why we should not continue to get on well, or any reason that a detail about you which has not actually changed should affect our relationship in any way. In short, I apologise for taking so long to come to this conclusion, and I would be much obliged if you would make me a cup of tea.” Holmes nodded decisively.
Victor, for his part, stood gaping for several long moments before coming to his senses and heading over to the boiler to make the tea he hadn't gotten around to yesterday. He decided to risk sitting down next to Holmes, and handed him his black tea cautiously. Holmes lit up when he saw that there was still no milk in his.
“I would like to say that your tea-making skills didn't play any part in my reasoning, but I'm afraid they did.” Holmes drew his stockinged feet up on the settee, and balanced with his forearms on his knees, holding the teacup in both hands between them.
“How's your ankle, then?” Victor sipped his tea in a way that would almost have looked casual to someone unobservant. The slight rustling of fabric alerted him that his question was being answered. He looked down to see a clean, white bandage on Holmes' ankle.
“I'm still keeping it covered, so I don't knock it, but it's mostly all right. Another day or so and I'll be up and about again.”
“Hmm. Glad to hear it. I'd hate to think I'd done permanent damage.”
Holmes hummed non-committally and sipped his cooling tea. Victor followed suit, slowly relaxing into the settee, and the quiet warmth of the man next to him. There was a silence, comfortable enough, that stretched out for long minutes while both men finished their tea. When Holmes next spoke up, it was so quiet that Victor might have missed it.
“You have a lecture in five minutes.”
“I know.” Victor dropped his head over the back of the settee to look out the window upside down. “It's raining.”
“Well, we can't have you getting wet, can we?”
“No. I think I'll stay here, with your kind permission.”
“Which you have, of course.” Holmes smiled and then shifted closer to Victor, before dropping his head onto the other man's shoulder. Victor felt oddly as though a wild animal had just approached him, and was eating cheerfully out of his hand. He vowed to himself that he would not move even a half-inch unless it was a matter of life or death, because he had just been handed what he felt was a rare and beautiful gift. “I'm glad you're staying, I thought I might have offended you beyond repair yesterday.”
“No,” Victor couldn't help but laugh a little, “but I had rather thought the same thing. See what thought does?”
“As a general rule,” Holmes began languidly, “thought is rather a good thing, in this ca-” he yawned widely, “oh, do excuse me, that was terribly rude. As I was saying, in this case, it was thought without evidence that caused a problem.”
“Tired, are you?”
Holmes hummed in the affirmative, “I didn't sleep last night. Busy thinking, you see.”
“Ah, I do indeed see. Would you like me to leave you in peace when the rain eases?” Victor fought to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“I'd much prefer you stay here, if it is agreeable to you. Your shoulder makes for a rather comfortable pillow.” Holmes punctuated this statement by rubbing his cheek over the body-part in question. Victor swallowed thickly.
“Of course. My shoulder is your shoulder, for whatever purpose you wish it.”
“Hmm. That sounds good.” Holmes snuggled in closer and breathed a heavy sigh, before relaxing almost completely. “Glad you're here.”
“I'm glad I'm here, too. Go to sleep.” Victor replied quietly. Holmes hummed again and closed his eyes, slowly dozing off to sleep. Victor plucked the empty teacup out of his hands carefully, and then sat still, marvelling at his good fortune and listening to Holmes snore softly.
“Victor. Victor, wake up.”
Victor started awake, looking around and blinking to clear his head. “What?”
“You fell asleep. I didn't think you'd want to be left like that.” Holmes looked almost nervous, as though he was no longer sure he'd made the right decision.
“Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you.” Victor smiled reassuringly. “Did you enjoy your nap?”
Holmes began to nod, and then winced, his hand flying up to his neck. “Mostly. The waking up part has been less enjoyable.”
“Hurt your neck, have you? Turn around, and let's see what we can do about it, hmm?” Much to Victor's surprise, Holmes followed his instructions without question or pause, and turned himself around so that his back was to Victor. “Right, tell me if I hurt you.” Victor moved both hands to Holmes' neck and began gently working the muscles.
Holmes' pleased little sigh was gratifying. The groan as the kink came loose was rather more than gratifying, and Victor swallowed thickly, torn between torturing himself and helping his friend. The breathy little moan that followed clinched it for him, and he moved his hands away slowly. “Better?”
“Much.” Holmes rolled his head slowly. “Thank you.” He sat back as he had before.
“You're welcome.” Victor made a show of checking his watch, desperate for an excuse to get away from a perfectly happy and relaxed Holmes, for fear he'd do something stupid. “Oh dear, I really do need to go.” He stood, not willing to have a discussion about it, lest his nerve fail him. “I'll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Holmes nodded, and Victor tried not to attach too much significance to the look of disappointment on his friend's face.
“Right, well then. Until tomorrow.” Victor waved and exited as quickly as he could without seeming like he was running away. Which, he reflected, was exactly what he was doing.
Day Ten
Victor was greatly surprised to hear a knock on his door, as he thought he'd finally managed to get the message through to everyone that he was no longer interested in having them 'visit'. He opened the door, ready to give a piece of his mind to whoever was on the other side, but was stopped short by the man on the other side.
“Sherlock?”
Holmes looked at Victor darkly. “I do wish you wouldn't call me that.”
Victor stepped back from the door. “I'm sorry. Do come in. Should you be walking?”
“I don't see why I shouldn't be.” Holmes entered the room and peered around at a mess nearly as bad as his own.
“Apologies for the mess. I haven't got any excuse at all, I'm afraid.”
“I like it,” Holmes collapsed onto an empty spot on the floor, “it's very homely.”
“Yes, well. Do make yourself at home, in that case.” Victor looked down at Holmes in amusement, and then cleared a space on the floor beside him to sit on. “I do have a perfectly serviceable sofa, you know.”
“I think I've spent rather enough time on lounge furniture lately, don't you?”
“I suppose so. So, I take it you aren't in any pain?”
“None at all. I came by to ask if you'd like to take me for a walk.”
“Are you going to paw at my leg if I hold up a leash?” Victor smiled slightly.
“No.” Holmes looked confused. “Should I?”
“The only other creature that even asks me to go for a walk is Cerberus. And he's much less polite about it.”
“Oh,” Holmes bit his lip, “he can come too, if you like.”
“No.” Victor stood up and held his hand out to Holmes. “He's asleep at the moment. I wore him out on Monday.”
Holmes accepted Victor's hand, and used it to help himself up. “Oh good. I mean, well. It's not that I dislike him, you understand.”
“Yes it is. But I do understand.” Victor realised belatedly that he'd failed to let go of Holmes' hand as yet, and quickly dropped it. He decided that the flash of disappointment on the other man's face was due to his imagination.
Holmes smiled a small, almost shy smile. “Thank you. Shall we?” He nodded towards the door.
“Of course.” Victor grabbed his coat and then went to hold the door open. “After you.”
They exited together, and started off on their walk. Victor was surprised again when Holmes offered his arm, but took it without hesitating.
“If you are about to say 'people will talk', I will be forced to hit you.” Holmes informed him matter-of-factly.
“Well, at least you know what they'll talk about, now.” Victor paused, and considered the meaning behind Holmes' statement. “You're trying to tell me that you don't mind if they talk. You should.”
“Why? They already think me odd. You might actually be good for my reputation.”
“Everyone else is doing it?”
“Something like that,” Holmes paused in a way Victor might have thought of as awkward, in any person other than the man he was walking with, “everyone is doing it, aren't they? With you.”
“Was. And not everyone. But yes, a good number. I suppose you'd have a few choice words for me, if I were a woman.”
“No. I had already realised that you were spending some time in close proximity with more than one other man. I had at first assumed sport, but then realised that if you are indeed an athlete, it is not in a team game.”
“Rowing is technically a team sport, but I see your point.”
“Ah. I wasn't sure, thank you. Anyway, the point is that everything fell into place after a cursory glance at the volume you handed me on Sunday. I am merely confirming a solid hypothesis by asking, so the shock that might cause one to lash out is considerably muted.” Holmes nodded shortly, to indicate that this was his final position on the matter.
Victor found himself rather at a loss for an intelligent answer. “I see.”
“You don't row any more, do you?”
“No,” he frowned at the apparently random change of subject, “I gave it up when I came here. Why?”
“I noticed yesterday that whilst your shoulders are still very strong, they aren't quite as they would be if you were in training.”
“Oh. Is it important?”
“Not really. Simply a matter of curiosity,” Holmes paused for a moment, and then continued, “you said 'was'.”
“Was what?”
“That was what I was wondering. I imagine you were correcting me on 'everyone is'.”
Victor wondered if he was imagining, on top of everything else, Holmes' apparent curiosity over his sex life. “Ah, yes. I think I've gotten rid of them all, now.”
“Why?”
“I...” Victor paused to think of a suitable answer, “I realised I wasn't doing myself any favours. In years to come, they'll only think of me as a whore, not a friend. And I'd rather not spend my whole life open to all comers.”
“Hmm.” Was Holmes' only response, and they walked for a while in silence.
Eventually, Victor had to break it, as the torture of wondering what was running through Holmes' head was making his stomach hurt. “Ankle all right?”
“It's fine. I appear to be fully functional again.” Holmes smiled a little.
“Glad to hear it. I suppose I can beg forgiveness properly, now?”
“You are already quite forgiven. You have done rather more for me than anyone else would have. I bear no grudge against you.”
Victor grinned brightly at his friend. “Thank you, it means rather a lot.”
Holmes opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had been about to say was lost in the deafening roar of what felt to both of them like several metric tons of water falling at once. Victor took a firm gasp on Holmes' hand and pulled him towards the last place he'd seen shelter, blinking against the wall of water that was falling all around them. Thankfully, he had remembered the general direction rather well, and soon they were both standing in a little alcove at the side of the library. A very little alcove, Victor noticed belatedly, as Holmes huddled close to him and shivered, sopping wet as he was.
“Well. That was sudden.” Victor smiled, trying to see the better side of the situation. Holmes looked at him balefully and shivered again. Victor sighed. “I suppose we'll just have to wait it out.”
Holmes grunted in the affirmative, and slid down the wall to sit on the ground, huddling up and shivering again. Victor removed his coat and draped it around the other man's shoulders, then sat beside him. Holmes stared. “I don't need this.” He said, but made no move to give it back.
“Yes you do. You haven't got an ounce of fat on you, you'll freeze.”
“Neither have you.” Holmes tried valiantly to suppress another shiver, but ultimately failed.
“More than you have. Besides, they breed us tough in Norfolk.”
“If you say so.” Holmes pulled the coat closer around himself. “This only smells of you.”
“I suppose it does. I don't often wear it, umm, with company.” Victor blushed faintly.
“Hmm. It's nice.” Holmes wriggled to get more comfortable, and then fell quiet, watching the torrent in front of him that blocked everything out which was more than a foot away.
Victor reflected for a moment on the acoustic properties of stone alcoves, in an attempt to distract himself from the idea that Holmes liked how he smelled. He was surprisingly not cold. After two or three minutes, though, he became impatient.
“Sherlock...” Holmes turned to look when his name was called. Victor bit his lip, and then carried on. “I am about to do something very, very stupid.”
Holmes said nothing, only looked on with trusting eyes as Victor leaned in, and finally touched their lips together before kissing him softly. When he pulled back, it was to look into the same eyes, a little wider than they had been. He waited.
After a few long moments, Holmes blinked owlishly. “What was that for?”
The question was clearly asked out of pure curiosity, without a note of reproach. Victor smiled gently. “For you.”
Holmes nodded slowly. “I see. It was...pleasant.”
Victor smiled brightly, a happy little bubble of hope swelling in his chest. “I'm very glad to hear that.” He took Holmes' hand and squeezed it, before turning to look out into the rain, and contemplate the sunshine.
Onward to Tea and Sympathy
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: PG (one less-than-polite word)
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Victor Trevor (almost entirely pre-slash)
Disclaimer: Definitely not mine. I don't look that old, do I?
Summary: The story of Sherlock Holmes' friendship with Victor Trevor.
Spoilers: Minor for The Gloria Scott (and you probably won't get it if you haven't read it).
Warnings: Excessive tea.
Word Count: 9,600
Author's Notes: For beeinmybonnet, who is much of the driving force behind Victor's personality. And possibly the only other person in the world who 'ships it. Also filling my schmoop_bingo 'friendship' square.
“-about yesterday. Yes, I know. You said so quite profusely at the time.” Holmes didn't bother opening his eyes to speak.'>Day One
“Ah, I'm in the right place, then.” The smiling face of Victor Trevor peered around the door to Sherlock Holmes' rooms. “May I come in? I'm-”
“The fellow with the dog. Trevor, wasn't it?” The other man nodded. “Coming inside would be much better than standing in the hallway, if you intend to speak to me.”
Holmes closed his eyes again and waited to hear the door click shut. He did not miss the fact that he was no longer alone in the room.
“Look, I'm sorry-”
“-about yesterday. Yes, I know. You said so quite profusely at the time.” Holmes didn't bother opening his eyes to speak.
“Right. I take it you're still angry, then?”
“My being angry with you would accomplish nothing. Neither will further apologies.”
There was a long moment of silence.
“Well, I suppose you'd refuse an offer of a nurse until you heal?” Victor smiled nervously.
Holmes finally opened his eyes at this to fix the stranger in his rooms with a look that would have wilted even the most self-assured of men. “You suppose correctly. Is there something you want, Mr. Trevor?”
“No. Well, just to apologise again. I'll, uh, I'll be going now.”
“Good day to you, then.” Holmes listened again for the door to open and close. At least that had been an interesting distraction.
Day Two
The door had opened and closed before Holmes bothered to look. It could only possibly be one person. “Back again, I see.”
Trevor started, “how on Earth did you know it was me? Or have you had a lot of repeat visitors?”
“You wear too much cologne,” Holmes propped himself up and looked at his visitor, “and hurt your own leg helping me. Your tread is slightly uneven. Additionally, you are probably the only person within travelling distance who knows me. So I will ask again - is there something I can do for you?”
The other man brightened and took a few steps towards the settee. “It's more a case of what I can do for you. It must be terribly boring, lying there all day. I thought I might provide some company. It is, after all, my duty; since your injuries are my fault.”
“My injuries are your dog's fault. It gives me time to think in peace, and I would much rather you not stay out of a warped sense of propriety, Mr. Trevor.”
“Please, call me Victor - Mr. Trevor is my father,” Victor retrieved a chair from under the desk and pulled it over to the settee, “and my dog's training is my responsibility. What if I told you I was here because you interest me?”
Holmes shot Victor a second withering look before closing his eyes again. “What possible interest could you have in me? You barely know me.”
A private, enigmatic smile flitted across Victor's face. “That is exactly the point. Omne ignotum pro magnifico.”
“I am sure there are a great many other things you don't know.”
“Indeed, I am certain you are correct. However, none of those things are quite so...captivating, at the moment.”
A snort of laughter came from the man on the settee. “Well, if you expect to find me magnificent, you will be sorely disappointed.”
“Oh, I'm not so sure about that. Your little trick earlier - figuring out who I was without looking - was fairly impressive.”
“That was neither a trick, nor anything you couldn't do yourself, if you paid more attention to your surroundings. However, it is also how I know that you have a lecture to attend in just over ten minutes.”
A pocket-watch was produced with due speed, and Victor's eyes widened. “How did you do that?” He found himself asking as he rose from the chair.
“That is for me to know, and you to find out.”
“Was that an invitation?”
“Go to your lecture” Holmes opened his eyes and looked up, “goodbye, Victor.” He heard the other man chuckling softly as he left.
Day Three
“Wearing a different cologne is not enough to fool me when you're the only one who could possibly be here.” Holmes stretched his arms above his head and yawned sleepily. “All this doing nothing is making me terribly tired, you know.”
“It was someone else's. We aren't speaking any more.” The other man remarked casually. “How did you know I had a lecture yesterday?”
“A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“I thought it wasn't a trick?” Victor pulled the chair from the desk again to sit down near the settee.
“Not true. You thought it was a trick. I'm the one who thinks it isn't. The same trick allows me to know that you come from new money, but are still here on scholarship. There is also something fairly important that I can't quite figure out about you, but I know it's there.”
“So I am something of a puzzle to you as well? Good.”
“Why good? And I am right, aren't I?”
“Correct on all counts. I'll let you work out the last part for yourself, though.” He grinned brightly. “It's good, because it means I haven't worn out my welcome, yet.”
“Yes, well. Some intellectual stimulation is better than nothing, and you do provide some.”
“Oh, stimulation is certainly something I can provide.”
Holmes looked up oddly. “I did just say so. Rarely do I speak idly.”
“No, I'm sure you don't.” Victor leaned back comfortably on his chair. “So, what is it that Sherlock Holmes is doing here? At university, I mean, not lying on his sofa.”
“Oh, a bit of everything. Chemistry, biology, physics. Science. I doubt it would interest you.”
“If it's to do with you, I'm interested. I can't promise to understand anything, but I'd like to hear about it.”
“No you wouldn't, there is little point in lying to me.”
“I'm beginning to see that, yes. Has anyone ever told you you're difficult to get on with?”
“Actually, no. They usually just avoid me.”
“Oh.” Victor's face fell. “Well, that's their mistake, then. I'll just have you all to myself.” He smiled brightly.
“And I, you, apparently. Don't you have other people to bother?”
“No, actually. As I said, we had a fight. And you don't mean that - I think you've rather enjoyed my company. How is your ankle, by the way?”
“Well, I've stopped bleeding through the bandages, which is definitely an improvement. Any more over-sweet, over-white tea, and I feared I may have been put off it forever.”
“Funny, I was just about to ask after a cup. I suppose I'll suffer on in silence, then?”
“In fact, I keep a boiler on for the purpose. Not for the purpose of company, but for the purpose of tea on demand. You'll find it behind that stack of papers over there.” Holmes pointed to a bench which looked mostly to be covered in chemical apparatus and newspapers.
Victor picked his way across the room to dig out the alcohol boiler, a teapot, and two mismatched cups under Holmes' directions.
“Yes, thank you, I am actually aware of the basics of tea-making. No wonder you never have any company.” He teased as Holmes continued to offer instructions.
“If I am so 'difficult to get on with', as you might say, why do you persist in trying?”
Instead of trying to find a tray of some sort, and a clear spot on a table, Victor decided on pouring two cups - one over-white and over-sweet, and the other black and without sugar, and carrying them over. He handed the black one to Holmes.
“Good Lord, you might as well have warmed some milk and dropped four lumps of sugar in it.” Holmes wrinkled his nose at the state of his companion's tea.
“I'm not making you drink it, am I? Is a man not permitted, in this great empire of ours, to drink his tea as he pleases? Besides, someone needed to finish off the bottle of milk.”
“And what if I had wanted it?”
“You didn't. You don't take milk in your tea if you can avoid it. I think that means I've done you a favour.” Victor smiled over the top of his tea cup.
“Funny sort of favour, isn't it?”
“I'm a funny sort of person. You'll get used to it.”
“And what makes you think I have any inclination to 'get used to it'?”
Victor smiled brightly again, “you haven't kicked me out yet. And you won't.”
“Sure of yourself, aren't you?”
“I have good reason to be.”
“Oh yes?” Holmes looked up, “and why might that be?”
A broad grin spread across Victor's face as he gulped down the remainder of his tea. “I'll tell you tomorrow,” he stood and dusted off trousers and jacket, “goodbye, Sherlock.”
“Don't call me that!” Holmes called after Victor's retreating form. He listened to the sound of chuckling until it faded completely.
Day Four
“You are mistaken, my friend, if you think that a man who is worth anything ought to spend his time weighing up the prospects of life and death. He has only one thing to consider in performing any action; that is, whether he is acting justly or unjustly, like a good man or a bad one.”
“Pardon me?” Victor began his familiar ritual of pulling up a chair to the settee with a confused frown on his face.
“How I knew you had a lecture the other day. You had 'Apology 28b' written on your cuff. Did you never look it up?”
“No. No, I forgot to.”
“Oh. Well, then, I suppose the effect is mostly lost. My point was, that I knew 'Apology 28b' had to refer to Plato's Apology, and that therefore you likely studied Greek literature. I also know what time the lecture for second-year students is in that subject, so it was no great leap for me to state that you were due to go for your lecture. I also know that you are missing one now.” Holmes looked at his companion disapprovingly.
“I see. I wasn't aware that you were in charge of attendance.”
“I'm not. I just think your education is considerably more important than your fleeting fascination with me.”
“Thank you, father. I'll take that under advisement. What makes you think it's fleeting?”
“Good, I can get back to enjoying your company without feeling guilty.” Holmes smiled quickly, “and of course it's fleeting - everything is.”
“So you are enjoying my company, then?”
“I don't ever recall saying I wasn't. Some company is proving to be better than none.”
“Oh, flattery. Be still my beating heart,” Victor grinned for a second, “am I really the only visitor you've had?”
“Yes, Victor, you are really the only person who has come to see me.”
“I see. Well, I'm worth ten people anyway, with my charm and charisma, so perhaps it's just as well. Couldn't have you overwhelmed with human companionship. You might accidentally enjoy yourself and put the rest of us out of our misery.” Victor looked mortified the moment the words had left his mouth.
“That wasn't fair. I didn't ask you to come here.”
“I know. I'm sorry.” He stood up to leave, looking for all the world as though his dog had just died.
Holmes looked away. “Take the bottle of milk on the sideboard with you, if you'd be so kind. I have no use for it.”
He didn't look at the door until the sound of footsteps faded in the hallway. It wasn't closed properly, but he decided he'd wait for a breeze to do the work.
Day Five
The knock on the door at four in the afternoon startled Holmes out of a fitful doze. He had called out for whoever it was to come in before realising who it had to be. Victor's head poked around the door, smiling sheepishly. “May I bring the invalid a peace offering?”
“I suppose you may, if he can't convince you it would be a bad idea.”
“I remain unconvinced.” Victor stepped through the door holding a medium-sized, white cardboard box. “I thought I might ply you with sweets. You do eat, don't you? It's just that I've never seen you do so.” He bit his lip nervously.
“I have been known to, on occasion. Most people do, you know.” Holmes peered at the box curiously.
“Yes, but you are far elevated above most people.”
“Now who's the flatterer?”
“Flattery implies a note of untruth. I am here, instead of with my other so-called friends, because you are a better class of person.”
“Hmm. You mean to say you've had a fight with them.”
“Yes, but because they had it coming. I should thank you for making me remember what good people are like.” He smiled gently, “So, I thought we might have a little picnic.” He brightened, and opened the box to reveal a selection of sweet pastries. “I had no idea what you might prefer, so I decided to get a little of everything and have mentally prepared for a long stay.”
“You don't think I'll throw you out?”
“I am an eternal optimist. And I think you are at least a little fond of me.”
Holmes smiled wryly. “There may be an element of truth to that. You've become something of a fixture.”
“I'll take that. Fixture it is.” Victor grinned nervously. “So. Tea?”
“That would be most acceptable, thank you.”
The ritual of tea-preparation was undertaken in much the same manner as it had been before, but with considerably less interruptions from the settee. Victor was surprised to discover a full bottle of fresh milk sitting next to the teacup he'd used last time, which had mysteriously made its way across the room.
“I see you have been visited by the dairy elves.” He smiled gratefully, holding up the small glass bottle.
“Visited by the busybody nurse, more like.” Holmes grumbled.
“Anything you say, Sherlock.”
“I have told you not to call me that.”
“And what would you have me call you instead, hmm? I'm not going to call you 'Holmes', it makes you sound old.”
“Well, I feel old, stuck in this room all week.” Holmes shifted and drew his legs up to his chest, and Victor wasted no time in occupying the now-empty space on the settee, handing Holmes his teacup.
“It's not forever. And you'd feel older if you had to walk with a cane for the rest of your life because you didn't let it heal properly.”
“You know,” Holmes looked up, a hint of a smile visible in his eyes, “that is exactly what the nurse said earlier today. Frightful old bat.”
“I do hope you aren't calling me an old bat.”
“Not at all,” Holmes unfolded his legs again and rested his feet on Victor's lap, “I was merely making the observation that you make a much better nurse, since I don't feel the need to throttle you. And you made my tea without milk.” He smiled brightly.
“Ah, so the key to your affections is knowing how not to add milk to your tea. Fascinating. I would think it an easy enough skill to come by.”
“You'd be surprised.”
“I am often surprised when it comes to you.” Victor found that he was stroking Holmes' good ankle with one finger, but as the other man hadn't said anything, he decided not to stop. “Well, despite the fact that that was an unpleasant thing to say about a lady-”
“That nurse was not a lady. Ladies are delicate and gentle, and she was neither.”
“As I was saying, despite your appalling attitude towards the nurse,” He smiled to show that he wasn't serious, “I am more than happy to continue to remember not to put milk in your tea.”
“You can stay, then. People who make tea without milk are a valuable commodity.” Holmes stated, looking as serious as he ever had.
“Hmm. Thank you, I do believe I will.” Victor smiled and fell into drinking his tea quietly.
“Victor,” Holmes started a little at his own use of the name, “what are you doing here?”
“I like it here. It's peaceful. No-one knows where I am, and the company doesn't expect anything of me.”
“Now that is patently untrue. I expect you to provide conversation and make tea. I may be loathe to let you move, as well, because your body heat is doing wonders for my ankle.” Holmes leaned back against the arm of the settee and closed his eyes.
“True enough, I suppose. But I'd rather talk to you and make you tea than deal with the sorts knocking on my door at all hours.”
“Ah, well, if they're worse than me, you have my sympathy.”
Victor pinched Holmes' foot. “Believe me, you could knock on my door at any hour you chose and be welcomed with open arms. After I kicked whoever was already there out.”
“You wouldn't introduce me to your friends?”
“I wouldn't introduce them to you. You're far too good for them.”
“Flattering me again, I see.”
“Perhaps, but you haven't met any of them. You should consider yourself lucky for that.”
“Well, I'll try not to run in to any of your friends, then. Are we going to have that picnic that you promised me?” Holmes opened his eyes to peer inquisitively at his companion.
“I thought I wasn't allowed to move?” Victor had barely finished speaking when the box was thrust into his hands.
“You aren't,” Holmes wiggled his feet, “I'm more comfortable than I have been in days.”
“Happy to be of service,” he held out the box to Holmes, “go on, then. They say a man's choice of pastry tells you a lot about him.”
“What does it say about me that I have no idea what most of these are?” Holmes extracted one of the offerings from the box and inspected it.
“It says that no-one spoils you enough. Or possibly, that you aren't fond of baked goods. In which case, I have made an error.”
As opposed to a verbal response, Holmes took a bite of his pastry and moaned happily, closing his eyes. Victor stared.
“Right, well,” he swallowed thickly, “I'll just have to spoil you more, then.”
Holmes hummed cheerfully with his mouth full before answering. “I will eventually stop you. I am pliable at the moment because of my injury, but this is not my usual way.”
“I shall endeavour to work around that.” Victor watched intently as Holmes' tongue darted out to collect crumbs from his bottom lip.
“You're welcome to try.” Holmes went back to munching contentedly and sipping at his tea. “Aren't you going to eat?”
“I had a late lunch. With unpleasant company, so I kept my mouth full the whole time to avoid having to speak to them. I doubt I'll have to eat all weekend, but hopefully they won't have me back again.” Victor grinned.
“You could simply have refused the invitation.” Holmes pointed out reasonably.
“No, I couldn't. There are certain social things one must do. Like you said, new money. I have to at least make an effort to fit in.”
“Victor Trevor is going places, is he?” Holmes teased.
“Aren't you? Isn't that why you're here?”
“I'm here for an education. I have no interest in climbing the social ladder. You will also find that on my back is not the place to start, if that's what you're interested in.”
“The thought never crossed my mind, actually. But now that you mention it, why? Pardon me for saying so, but you seem to come from money.”
“Mmm, old money at that. Except that I'm not going to inherit, being the product of my father's second marriage and the youngest of three. So you see, I am not the sort you should be associating with.”
“Oh well,” Victor shrugged, “I'll just have to become an eccentric.”
“I think it's a little too late for that.” Holmes grinned behind the rim of his teacup.
“You could well be right. I am, after all, shunning the fashionable crowd in favour of having tea with a man who was savaged by my dog. The worst part is, I'm thoroughly enjoying it.”
“I won't tell anyone if you won't.”
“You mean this isn't the highlight of your year?” Victor did his best to look thoroughly scandalised by the idea.
“Hard to call being invalided a highlight, don't you think?”
“You are, of course, quite correct.” Victor smiled softly, and then added quietly; “I wonder what it says that it may well be the highlight of mine.”
“It says you're easily pleased. Or that you have an unhealthy enjoyment of other people's pain, in which case I am making a grave error in letting you near my ankle.” Holmes tried to look serious, but the effect was rather ruined by the smile he couldn't quite hold back.
“How is your ankle, by the way?”
“Fine at the moment. Healing nicely, I'm told. Not infected, thankfully.”
“Pity. If I'd had to nurse you through a fever, you'd have been terribly grateful.”
“It would be your fault; I'm not sure I'd be obliged to be grateful for that.”
“Perhaps not. I dare say you'd be very cross with me indeed.”
“Doubtful. My being cross with you would accomplish nothing.”
Victor paused thoughtfully. “That's important to you, isn't it? That actions have a purpose?”
“It is, yes. Which is why I'm having so much difficulty figuring you out. I cannot see what motive you have for visiting me all the time - what's in it for you?”
A nervous laugh was Victor's first response. “You are in it for me. Friendship is a valuable thing, especially if you manage to find a friend who isn't frightfully boring, or demanding, or likely to get you thrown in gaol.”
Holmes frowned oddly. “And do you have many friends who are bores, solicitous, or budding felons?”
“All but one, I think. If I can call you a friend?”
“What obligations would I be under if I agreed to be your friend?”
There was a long pause in which Victor blinked several times, before deciding the question had been in earnest. “You would have to acknowledge me if we ran into one another. Allow me to keep visiting you while you heal, and let me return your hospitality when you're up to it. Put up with my habit of drinking sweet, milky tea. Listen to what I have to say with respect, regardless of whether you agree. In return, I would be obliged to do all of these things as well. Additionally, I would never add milk to your tea. Anything beyond that is a gesture of friendly affection. Do we have an accord?”
Holmes smiled brightly, and stuck out his hand. “I believe we do.”
Victor chuckled and shook Holmes' hand firmly. “Good. Well, in answer to your earlier question, all but one. It's nice to have a break from them.”
They fell into a comfortable silence, and Victor found himself making a second cup of tea when Holmes was finished with his first.
“Not that I'm complaining, but how long do you intend to stay?” Holmes spoke up after a while.
“Until you kick me out? I could stay in your rooms all night and have everyone talking.” Victor smiled brightly.
“Talking about what?” Holmes frowned in confusion.
Victor looked at him strangely. “Nothing. Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“No. If you don't know, that's all the better for you, and I'm not going to be the one to tell you.”
Holmes crossed his arms and glared at Victor petulantly. “I don't think friends are supposed to hide things from each other.”
“I'm not hiding anything from you. I'm simply saving you from an unpleasant untruth.”
“Fine.” Holmes looked away, lips pursed.
“Oh, don't fall out with me over this. It really is nothing. A trifle.”
“Trifles can be very important. Remember the writing on your cuff?”
Victor smiled fondly. “Yes, I do.” He paused thoughtfully for a moment, and then drained his cup. “I suppose I should be going. You get some sleep, and I'll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, friend.” Came a small voice from the settee.
Day Six
Holmes would have liked to think that he didn't light up at the knock on the door, but he was in the habit of being honest with himself about such things.
“Morning, Victor.” He feigned disinterest in his guest, who beamed brightly from the door.
“You aren't still upset with me, are you?”
“Why should I be?” Holmes continued to sound indifferent.
“Fine. Then I'm going to assume you aren't. Did I miss anything exciting while I was gone?”
“You've only been gone for,” Holmes paused to glance at his pocket-watch, “twelve hours, give or take. I slept for most of them.”
“And what did you do with the ones you didn't sleep for?”
“None of your business. Are you coming inside, or not?”
“Or not, actually.”
Holmes couldn't entirely hide his disappointment. “Oh, well, I shan't keep you, then.”
“Ah, but you shall.” Victor opened the door properly to reveal a wheelchair. “I am not coming inside, because you are going outside.”
“Why?”
“You complained about being stuck in here. This is one of the benefits of having friends.”
A slight smile appeared on Holmes' face for a moment, and it was returned fondly by the man standing at the door.
“Coming?”
“I'm afraid you're going to have to help me, unless you'd like me to crawl.” Holmes answered with a measure of sarcasm. Victor sighed and entered the room, moving over to the couch and insinuating his shoulder under Holmes'.
“I apologise for not thinking of everything. I propose we make you the brains of the operation, and I'll be the socially adept, attractive one.” He encouraged Holmes to stand.
“Someone thinks highly of themselves.”
“I'm not attractive?” Victor forced himself to look hurt.
“From an objective standpoint, you have symmetrical, matching features, a medium build, good posture, and you dress well. That doesn't mean that being aware of it is an attractive quality.” Holmes expounded while they made the short but slow trip to the door.
“So you do think I'm attractive, then?” He smiled brightly.
“From an objective standpoint.” Holmes repeated, nodding solemnly as he made himself comfortable.
Victor snatched up the blanket from the settee and draped it over Holmes' legs. “Whatever you say, Sherlock. From an objective standpoint, you're a little thin, but it suits you.”
Holmes hummed contemplatively as Victor started wheeling him down the hall. “So we're agree, then. From an objective standpoint, we're both attractive. I'll let you be socially adept.”
“Thank goodness for that. We couldn't have me as the brains.” Victor struggled to hold open the door and push Holmes through it at the same time, finally coming to the conclusion that it would be best to go through it backwards. Holmes snorted.
“No, indeed. Then we would be in rather a mess.”
The day was not overly warm, but the sun was at least out, and there was a pleasant light about the the place. Holmes took in his surroundings calmly until he spotted a familiar dog.
“No.” He stated loudly, and with more than a little fear.
“Yes. Sorry, but I've been lax in exercising him lately, and as I intend to spend the day with you, he'll have to come with us. He's really a good dog, most of the time. I'm not sure what got into him.”
“About half an ounce of my flesh got into him. What if he's decided he likes how I taste?”
“He coughed it up. I think you're safe.”
Holmes wrinkled his nose. “That's not at all reassuring. And mildly disgusting.”
“I will not let Cerberus do you any harm, you have my word.” Victor smiled softly.
“Fine.” Holmes sighed and crossed his arms. “If I am injured again, you will have to start helping me with my work. Which will begin with dissecting your dog.”
“I would rather not choose between you and the dog. If you behave, he will.”
The dog barked lazily as Victor untied him, and trotted over at his master's heel. Holmes tensed up, but on remembering that he'd read somewhere that dogs could smell fear, forced himself to relax. The dog sat when Victor stopped, floppy pink tongue hanging out of its deceptively innocent mouth. Holmes glared.
“Don't look at him like that. Here, hold out the back of your hand, like this.” Victor demonstrated, holding his hand relaxed, with the back facing towards the dog's nose. It sniffed at it for a moment, and then licked enthusiastically, causing Victor to laugh softly. “See? He's all bark and very little bite. Like his master.”
Holmes scoffed softly. “His master hasn't bitten me,” he paused thoughtfully, “yet.”
Victor grinned. “Hold your hand out for him. Please.” Holmes huffed, but eventually held his hand out cautiously as Victor had shown him. The dog sniffed good-naturedly and then gave it a disinterested lick before padding away to stand by Victor's legs. Holmes fought to contain his relief.
“I told you you'd be safe.” Victor leaned down to whisper in Holmes' ear, “I won't let you get hurt. I'm rather fond of you.”
Still nervous, Holmes settled himself into the wheelchair more comfortably, adjusting his blanket needlessly. “I don't like dogs.”
Victor grinned and started them off towards the botanic gardens. Cerberus trotted lazily alongside them, occasionally going off to sniff at something interesting, but always returning like a very well-trained animal. Victor carefully did not point this out.
“Do you know much about plants?” Holmes tilted his head back to look up at his friend.
“A little. Over there, for example,” he pointed to a vivid purple flower, “is Morning Glory. And that one,” he indicated a large tree, “is a pear tree. Aren't the blossoms lovely?”
“Fond of flowers, are you?” Holmes continued to look up, letting his head loll around on the back of the chair.
“Fond of beautiful things.” Victor smiled down gently.
“Ah. I take it there's a pretty young heiress back home waiting for you to finish your education?”
The hearty laughter that sprang from Victor was entirely unexpected, and Holmes spent the next minute or so while Victor enjoyed the apparent hilarity of his statement.
“No,” he continued to laugh, catching his breath slowly, “No, there are certainly no girls of any sort waiting for me anywhere.”
“I can't see why that's so funny. Isn't your mother pestering you about finding a nice girl so she'll have dozens of grandchildren?”
Victor swallowed. “My mother...she's dead.”
“Oh,” Holmes continued to look up at Victor, contemplating this new information, “I'm sorry to hear that.”
“You aren't, but thank you for saying so,” Victor sighed heavily, “it was a long time ago, I'm over it.”
“You aren't,” Holmes began, “but thank you for trying to make me comfortable.” Victor laughed softly. “I am sorry that you're sad about it, though.”
“Thank you.” Victor looked back up and they continued along in silence for a few minutes. “So, enjoying the fresh air, are you?”
Holmes dropped his head back again to look up. “Yes, I find I rather am. The company certainly helps with that.” He smiled brightly.
“And now the wheel turns full circle, and you are flattering me?” Victor smirked, “people will talk.”
“You still haven't told me what they will talk about, you know. I can't see that there's anything terribly unusual going on.”
“You're right, there's not. But students are worse than spinster aunts when it comes to gossip.” Victor patted Holmes shoulder, and then spotted what he'd been looking for and knelt beside the wheelchair to point to it.
“Do you see that crop of flowers over there?” He pointed to a group of flowers of different shades of blue, purple and pink, with dozens of little star-shaped blooms covering them. Holmes nodded. “Those are hyacinths. Aren't they beautiful?”
“From an objective standpoint, I'm sure they attract the necessary insects to pollinate them.” Holmes allowed, nodding decisively.
“You and your objective standpoint.” Victor chuckled and shook his head, “actually, they don't need to be pollinated; they grow from a bulb. Their beauty is wholly without necessity - do you know the myth attached to them?”
“I am afraid we have hit a wall in my knowledge.”
“In other words, no.” Victor smiled enigmatically, “I'll have to lend you a copy. You might learn one or two more things while you're at it.”
“I don't see why you couldn't just tell me.” Holmes adjusted his blanket again, picking at invisible dust.
“That would take all the fun out of it. And there are some things a man has to form his own opinion on.”
Holmes seemed to accept this, and they continued on their way in a comfortable silence. Cerberus, who Holmes had almost completely forgotten about, interrupted about fifteen minutes later by deciding that he was done with walking, and Holmes' lap looked like a better prospect for transport. Holmes yelped, and froze when a twenty pound dog leaped onto him and licked his face enthusiastically.
“Cerberus!” Victor barked sternly, “get off him, you horrible mutt.” The dog looked woefully at Victor for a second before climbing off Holmes' lap. Victor walked around the chair and knelt in front of Holmes. “I do apologise. He seems determined to show me up.” Cerberus sat down next to his master, and for a moment Holmes was struck by the identical looks of soft apology and anxiousness. He breathed deeply, and then smiled down at both of them.
“He didn't do me any harm,” Holmes paused for a moment, and then offered his hand to the dog as he had before, “well, not much, anyway. Have you got a handkerchief?” Victor fished his handkerchief out of his jacket and held it out to Holmes, who inspected it to be sure it was clean, and then used it to wipe the dog's saliva off his face.
“Keep it. Don't say I never gave you anything.” Victor grinned up at him.
Holmes sighed dramatically. “If the dog wants to sit on my knee, let him. As long as he doesn't lick me.”
“He has four perfectly good legs with which to walk.” Victor stood.
“Nevertheless, I can understand his need to rest.”
“You have a very good heart. But Cerberus needs the exercise. We can worry about you two getting along some other day. Do you need to rest?”
“I believe I am resting. The nurse would throw a fit if she saw this, though.” Holmes grinned at that idea.
Victor chuckled. “It's good that you have such respect for the medical profession. Although I can see your point about her.” He started them on their walk again.
“Ah, so you've had a run in with her as well, have you?”
“Hmm, once or twice. I've since learned to deal with my own illness and injuries. I can show you the scar from my first encounter later.”
“Is it somewhere embarrassing?” Holmes grinned up eagerly.
“Only my arm, I'm afraid. But I'd have to take off my jacket to show you, and it isn't as warm as it could be.”
“Oh. It is getting rather cold, isn't it?”
A mischievous smile flitted across Victor's face. “You seem disappointed. Did you want to see my embarrassing bits?”
Holmes blushed, eyes wide. “No. I'd just like to think that I'm not the only one who's done himself an injury he'd rather forget about.” He shifted uncomfortably.
“I was only teasing. You'll have to put in a bit more effort for that.” He grinned again.
“Victor!” Holmes looked genuinely scandalised at the notion.
“I'm joking.”
“You're not funny.”
“Shall I get you some pearls to clutch?”
“Oh, do shut up.” Holmes sighed heavily. “I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to having a friend.”
“It's quite all right. I should learn when to stop pushing. My other so-called friends wouldn't even have batted an eyelid at that. Which I suppose shows rather more about their characters than they might like.” He smiled wryly. “I won't upset you like that again.”
“I'll get used to it, no doubt.” Holmes smiled back.
They fell into another comfortable silence as Victor began to slowly turn them back towards Holmes' rooms, and then chatted idly about varieties of flowers as they headed back.
Day Seven
The knock on the door roused Holmes from what had been the best quality sleep he'd had in a long time. Victor's sheepish smile greeted him from the door.
“Good morning - listen, I can't stay, but I promised you this,” he brandished a book, “and I thought I'd drop it off before I go to see my frankly horrible uncle. I'm afraid I won't be back until quite late.” He crossed the room efficiently and handed Holmes a thin volume of Greek myths. “The story you're looking for is in there - it'll probably keep you better company than I do.” Victor smiled.
Accepting the book easily enough, Holmes shifted to sit up a bit on the settee. “Well, I suppose I can make do for one day.” He smiled as brightly as he could.
“I'll come to see you first thing tomorrow, classical literature be damned. I imagine you'll have questions anyway, and they say the best way to learn is to teach.” Victor nodded firmly. “And now I'm afraid I must depart. Is there anything I can do for you before I go?”
“No, I'm quite comfortable, thank you.”
“Good. I'll see you tomorrow. Enjoy your book.” Victor rushed away, not particularly enthusiastically, and Holmes watched him go with more than mild disappointment, before settling down to read.
Day Eight
“This is what I was missing, isn't it?” Holmes waved the book at Victor as he peered around the door.
“My interest in Greek mythology?” Victor entered the room sheepishly. “Yesterday was just as hellish as I said it would be, by the way. But no, I'm fine, thank you. Not in need of any sort of consolation. Tea would be lovely, thank you. No, don't get up, I'll get it.” He hurried over to the boiler and set about making tea.
“Victor, I am not talking about your interest in Greek mythology, unless we're using 'Greek mythology' as a euphemism for 'Greek love'. Which I wasn't, but I suppose you might be.”
Victor sighed heavily, and remained resolutely facing the wall, shoulders tensed. “Are you about to tell me to get out and never come back again?”
Silence stretched out for long moments. Finally, Holmes spoke up again, voice quiet and unsure. “No. I'm not.” He paused again. “I'm sorry to hear that you didn't enjoy yourself yesterday.”
“Thank you.” Victor choked out, holding on to the table-edge tightly, as though it was the only thing keeping him upright.
“I'm not sure what I should say.”
“I don't even know what I want you to say.” Victor continued to stare at the wall.
“What did you hope to achieve by telling me?”
“I didn't tell you. I let you work it out for yourself.”
“Victor...” Holmes began, and then trailed off. He was silent for several moments, before breathing deeply to speak again. “I need time. I can only ask you, as my friend, to understand that.”
Victor nodded towards the wall. “Of course. All the time you need.” He left in a hurry, not daring to look at Holmes as he went. To the trained observer huddled on the settee, it was obvious that he was trembling.
Day Nine
Victor flung the door to Holmes' room open, face red and panting heavily. “What's happened?”
Startled, Holmes looked up from where he had been dozing quietly on the settee. “Nothing?” He answered dazedly.
“Your note,” Victor gulped air deeply, “you sent for me. 'Come at once', it said. I thought something dreadful must have happened.”
“Oh, I do apologise for frightening you. I merely meant to inform you that I have finished thinking.”
“Already?” Victor swallowed thickly, certain that he was about to hear something unpleasant.
“It is not a particularly complex problem,” Holmes sat up, leaving a space free on the settee, but Victor didn't dare to take it, “the facts, as far as I can see them, are these; you have been an invert since before I met you, even though I didn't know it. You and I have become friends, and you have been very kind to me these past few days, and despite the fact that the initial injury was your fault, I am grateful. You are the same man today as you were yesterday, or indeed last week, and we have gotten on well. I see no reason why we should not continue to get on well, or any reason that a detail about you which has not actually changed should affect our relationship in any way. In short, I apologise for taking so long to come to this conclusion, and I would be much obliged if you would make me a cup of tea.” Holmes nodded decisively.
Victor, for his part, stood gaping for several long moments before coming to his senses and heading over to the boiler to make the tea he hadn't gotten around to yesterday. He decided to risk sitting down next to Holmes, and handed him his black tea cautiously. Holmes lit up when he saw that there was still no milk in his.
“I would like to say that your tea-making skills didn't play any part in my reasoning, but I'm afraid they did.” Holmes drew his stockinged feet up on the settee, and balanced with his forearms on his knees, holding the teacup in both hands between them.
“How's your ankle, then?” Victor sipped his tea in a way that would almost have looked casual to someone unobservant. The slight rustling of fabric alerted him that his question was being answered. He looked down to see a clean, white bandage on Holmes' ankle.
“I'm still keeping it covered, so I don't knock it, but it's mostly all right. Another day or so and I'll be up and about again.”
“Hmm. Glad to hear it. I'd hate to think I'd done permanent damage.”
Holmes hummed non-committally and sipped his cooling tea. Victor followed suit, slowly relaxing into the settee, and the quiet warmth of the man next to him. There was a silence, comfortable enough, that stretched out for long minutes while both men finished their tea. When Holmes next spoke up, it was so quiet that Victor might have missed it.
“You have a lecture in five minutes.”
“I know.” Victor dropped his head over the back of the settee to look out the window upside down. “It's raining.”
“Well, we can't have you getting wet, can we?”
“No. I think I'll stay here, with your kind permission.”
“Which you have, of course.” Holmes smiled and then shifted closer to Victor, before dropping his head onto the other man's shoulder. Victor felt oddly as though a wild animal had just approached him, and was eating cheerfully out of his hand. He vowed to himself that he would not move even a half-inch unless it was a matter of life or death, because he had just been handed what he felt was a rare and beautiful gift. “I'm glad you're staying, I thought I might have offended you beyond repair yesterday.”
“No,” Victor couldn't help but laugh a little, “but I had rather thought the same thing. See what thought does?”
“As a general rule,” Holmes began languidly, “thought is rather a good thing, in this ca-” he yawned widely, “oh, do excuse me, that was terribly rude. As I was saying, in this case, it was thought without evidence that caused a problem.”
“Tired, are you?”
Holmes hummed in the affirmative, “I didn't sleep last night. Busy thinking, you see.”
“Ah, I do indeed see. Would you like me to leave you in peace when the rain eases?” Victor fought to keep the disappointment out of his voice.
“I'd much prefer you stay here, if it is agreeable to you. Your shoulder makes for a rather comfortable pillow.” Holmes punctuated this statement by rubbing his cheek over the body-part in question. Victor swallowed thickly.
“Of course. My shoulder is your shoulder, for whatever purpose you wish it.”
“Hmm. That sounds good.” Holmes snuggled in closer and breathed a heavy sigh, before relaxing almost completely. “Glad you're here.”
“I'm glad I'm here, too. Go to sleep.” Victor replied quietly. Holmes hummed again and closed his eyes, slowly dozing off to sleep. Victor plucked the empty teacup out of his hands carefully, and then sat still, marvelling at his good fortune and listening to Holmes snore softly.
“Victor. Victor, wake up.”
Victor started awake, looking around and blinking to clear his head. “What?”
“You fell asleep. I didn't think you'd want to be left like that.” Holmes looked almost nervous, as though he was no longer sure he'd made the right decision.
“Thank you, that was very thoughtful of you.” Victor smiled reassuringly. “Did you enjoy your nap?”
Holmes began to nod, and then winced, his hand flying up to his neck. “Mostly. The waking up part has been less enjoyable.”
“Hurt your neck, have you? Turn around, and let's see what we can do about it, hmm?” Much to Victor's surprise, Holmes followed his instructions without question or pause, and turned himself around so that his back was to Victor. “Right, tell me if I hurt you.” Victor moved both hands to Holmes' neck and began gently working the muscles.
Holmes' pleased little sigh was gratifying. The groan as the kink came loose was rather more than gratifying, and Victor swallowed thickly, torn between torturing himself and helping his friend. The breathy little moan that followed clinched it for him, and he moved his hands away slowly. “Better?”
“Much.” Holmes rolled his head slowly. “Thank you.” He sat back as he had before.
“You're welcome.” Victor made a show of checking his watch, desperate for an excuse to get away from a perfectly happy and relaxed Holmes, for fear he'd do something stupid. “Oh dear, I really do need to go.” He stood, not willing to have a discussion about it, lest his nerve fail him. “I'll see you tomorrow?”
“Of course.” Holmes nodded, and Victor tried not to attach too much significance to the look of disappointment on his friend's face.
“Right, well then. Until tomorrow.” Victor waved and exited as quickly as he could without seeming like he was running away. Which, he reflected, was exactly what he was doing.
Day Ten
Victor was greatly surprised to hear a knock on his door, as he thought he'd finally managed to get the message through to everyone that he was no longer interested in having them 'visit'. He opened the door, ready to give a piece of his mind to whoever was on the other side, but was stopped short by the man on the other side.
“Sherlock?”
Holmes looked at Victor darkly. “I do wish you wouldn't call me that.”
Victor stepped back from the door. “I'm sorry. Do come in. Should you be walking?”
“I don't see why I shouldn't be.” Holmes entered the room and peered around at a mess nearly as bad as his own.
“Apologies for the mess. I haven't got any excuse at all, I'm afraid.”
“I like it,” Holmes collapsed onto an empty spot on the floor, “it's very homely.”
“Yes, well. Do make yourself at home, in that case.” Victor looked down at Holmes in amusement, and then cleared a space on the floor beside him to sit on. “I do have a perfectly serviceable sofa, you know.”
“I think I've spent rather enough time on lounge furniture lately, don't you?”
“I suppose so. So, I take it you aren't in any pain?”
“None at all. I came by to ask if you'd like to take me for a walk.”
“Are you going to paw at my leg if I hold up a leash?” Victor smiled slightly.
“No.” Holmes looked confused. “Should I?”
“The only other creature that even asks me to go for a walk is Cerberus. And he's much less polite about it.”
“Oh,” Holmes bit his lip, “he can come too, if you like.”
“No.” Victor stood up and held his hand out to Holmes. “He's asleep at the moment. I wore him out on Monday.”
Holmes accepted Victor's hand, and used it to help himself up. “Oh good. I mean, well. It's not that I dislike him, you understand.”
“Yes it is. But I do understand.” Victor realised belatedly that he'd failed to let go of Holmes' hand as yet, and quickly dropped it. He decided that the flash of disappointment on the other man's face was due to his imagination.
Holmes smiled a small, almost shy smile. “Thank you. Shall we?” He nodded towards the door.
“Of course.” Victor grabbed his coat and then went to hold the door open. “After you.”
They exited together, and started off on their walk. Victor was surprised again when Holmes offered his arm, but took it without hesitating.
“If you are about to say 'people will talk', I will be forced to hit you.” Holmes informed him matter-of-factly.
“Well, at least you know what they'll talk about, now.” Victor paused, and considered the meaning behind Holmes' statement. “You're trying to tell me that you don't mind if they talk. You should.”
“Why? They already think me odd. You might actually be good for my reputation.”
“Everyone else is doing it?”
“Something like that,” Holmes paused in a way Victor might have thought of as awkward, in any person other than the man he was walking with, “everyone is doing it, aren't they? With you.”
“Was. And not everyone. But yes, a good number. I suppose you'd have a few choice words for me, if I were a woman.”
“No. I had already realised that you were spending some time in close proximity with more than one other man. I had at first assumed sport, but then realised that if you are indeed an athlete, it is not in a team game.”
“Rowing is technically a team sport, but I see your point.”
“Ah. I wasn't sure, thank you. Anyway, the point is that everything fell into place after a cursory glance at the volume you handed me on Sunday. I am merely confirming a solid hypothesis by asking, so the shock that might cause one to lash out is considerably muted.” Holmes nodded shortly, to indicate that this was his final position on the matter.
Victor found himself rather at a loss for an intelligent answer. “I see.”
“You don't row any more, do you?”
“No,” he frowned at the apparently random change of subject, “I gave it up when I came here. Why?”
“I noticed yesterday that whilst your shoulders are still very strong, they aren't quite as they would be if you were in training.”
“Oh. Is it important?”
“Not really. Simply a matter of curiosity,” Holmes paused for a moment, and then continued, “you said 'was'.”
“Was what?”
“That was what I was wondering. I imagine you were correcting me on 'everyone is'.”
Victor wondered if he was imagining, on top of everything else, Holmes' apparent curiosity over his sex life. “Ah, yes. I think I've gotten rid of them all, now.”
“Why?”
“I...” Victor paused to think of a suitable answer, “I realised I wasn't doing myself any favours. In years to come, they'll only think of me as a whore, not a friend. And I'd rather not spend my whole life open to all comers.”
“Hmm.” Was Holmes' only response, and they walked for a while in silence.
Eventually, Victor had to break it, as the torture of wondering what was running through Holmes' head was making his stomach hurt. “Ankle all right?”
“It's fine. I appear to be fully functional again.” Holmes smiled a little.
“Glad to hear it. I suppose I can beg forgiveness properly, now?”
“You are already quite forgiven. You have done rather more for me than anyone else would have. I bear no grudge against you.”
Victor grinned brightly at his friend. “Thank you, it means rather a lot.”
Holmes opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he had been about to say was lost in the deafening roar of what felt to both of them like several metric tons of water falling at once. Victor took a firm gasp on Holmes' hand and pulled him towards the last place he'd seen shelter, blinking against the wall of water that was falling all around them. Thankfully, he had remembered the general direction rather well, and soon they were both standing in a little alcove at the side of the library. A very little alcove, Victor noticed belatedly, as Holmes huddled close to him and shivered, sopping wet as he was.
“Well. That was sudden.” Victor smiled, trying to see the better side of the situation. Holmes looked at him balefully and shivered again. Victor sighed. “I suppose we'll just have to wait it out.”
Holmes grunted in the affirmative, and slid down the wall to sit on the ground, huddling up and shivering again. Victor removed his coat and draped it around the other man's shoulders, then sat beside him. Holmes stared. “I don't need this.” He said, but made no move to give it back.
“Yes you do. You haven't got an ounce of fat on you, you'll freeze.”
“Neither have you.” Holmes tried valiantly to suppress another shiver, but ultimately failed.
“More than you have. Besides, they breed us tough in Norfolk.”
“If you say so.” Holmes pulled the coat closer around himself. “This only smells of you.”
“I suppose it does. I don't often wear it, umm, with company.” Victor blushed faintly.
“Hmm. It's nice.” Holmes wriggled to get more comfortable, and then fell quiet, watching the torrent in front of him that blocked everything out which was more than a foot away.
Victor reflected for a moment on the acoustic properties of stone alcoves, in an attempt to distract himself from the idea that Holmes liked how he smelled. He was surprisingly not cold. After two or three minutes, though, he became impatient.
“Sherlock...” Holmes turned to look when his name was called. Victor bit his lip, and then carried on. “I am about to do something very, very stupid.”
Holmes said nothing, only looked on with trusting eyes as Victor leaned in, and finally touched their lips together before kissing him softly. When he pulled back, it was to look into the same eyes, a little wider than they had been. He waited.
After a few long moments, Holmes blinked owlishly. “What was that for?”
The question was clearly asked out of pure curiosity, without a note of reproach. Victor smiled gently. “For you.”
Holmes nodded slowly. “I see. It was...pleasant.”
Victor smiled brightly, a happy little bubble of hope swelling in his chest. “I'm very glad to hear that.” He took Holmes' hand and squeezed it, before turning to look out into the rain, and contemplate the sunshine.
Onward to Tea and Sympathy