tl;dr: why couldn't mary have been ugly or something

[mustbetruth]

Once the adrenaline fades, Holmes is only left with an empty sitting room and an empty hole inside him that won't be filled until the next case. He could've been happier about it, maybe, if he didn't think this would be the last case he did with Watson. If Mary Morstan hadn't been involved, hadn't been so sweet, hadn't been so pretty, hadn't been

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[armydoctor]

After accompanying the very lovely Miss Morstan home, Watson was in a splendid mood. It was a shame about the treasure, and she had been disappointed to be sure, though at least she still had the pearls she had been gifted. If she wished to sell them, she could do quite well for herself. She was hardly bereft. Charming and pretty and with a little money -- she would have no problems finding herself a deserving husband.

Were things different, Watson might have offered to take that vacancy.

But no. He had a lover, if one with slightly less acceptibility than he might have liked, and abandoning Holmes was not something he was capable of.

He was glad to be home, now, and he scaled the seventeen steps up to their sitting room with a bit of a lilt to his step. Everything had worked out quite well, he thought, and the last week had been exciting. He felt quite gloriously alive, and he looked forward to seeing Holmes; a good case left him in high spirits, quite often, and Watson rather shamefully looked forward to the outcome of

[mustbetruth]

Watson's step is so happy, Holmes can nearly take that as confirmation of what has gone on over at Miss Morstan's home; what Watson says nearly confirms it. If it hasn't taken place tonight, then it will happen soon enough. Holmes isn't sure if he ought to make moves to stop it. Is it fair to keep Watson to himself? To stop him having a normal life, not that that's always a good thing? Certainly stopping him from having children is enough to feel guilty about.

"I'm sure you're quite entangled," he says venomously, glaring into the distance. "You ought to have stayed later. You're clearly welcome there."

[armydoctor]

Watson stopped short, nothing short of staring. In his good mood, to be the target of such unexpected bile was a little off-putting, to say the least, and he couldn't understand its source."

"Well, I'm no longer entangled," he answered, sounding baffled. "And it's rather late to be making social calls. Holmes, what on Earth is this? Did something happen while I was gone?" He sat down in his own chair, opposite Holmes, and leaned forward, frowning. He wasn't sure where to begin trying to work this out. Had he said or done something to offend Holmes? Had there been some bad piece of news that had arrived in Watson's absence, and Holmes was lashing out rather than share it? Was Holmes just feeling a bit of a let-down after a good case?

[mustbetruth]

Watson can be so dense. Is he really not aware of how obviously he has taken a liking to Miss Morstan? And moreover, how much she has taken a liking to him? He'd almost missed it, that night, when they were holding hands outside of the house. He really couldn't have been sure he saw it at first, but no, it had happened. And it had looked so natural, so easy. Holmes had felt jealous then, but he was busy, thankfully. He's endeavored to forget it since, but now the image returns to him like out of some sort of nightmare.

"You tell me, my dear Watson," he says, and it doesn't sound affectionate. "I'm hardly in a position to know. Has anything happened while you were gone?"

[armydoctor]

"Perhaps, perhaps." For a moment, Watson lay puffing, resting and waiting for a moment where he could fight back. He smiled, trying for innocence, but there was a great deal of wickedness in his expression. He was well aware that Holmes was going easy on his bad shoulder. At another time he might have appreciated that; now, we was only inclined to take advantage of it and turn the tables.

When he judged the moment right, he worked his way free, calling on deep physical memories of working out of rugby tackles. Grasping Holmes's forearm, he wrestled his way up, twisted the pair of them upwards and over, tackled Holmes down as he pressed forward with a hasty kiss. He was laughing.

"Do you really think," he chortled, "that I wouldn't take advantage if you went easy on me?"

[mustbetruth]

He isn't quite laughing, not for lack of merriment, but his lungs are busy helping him to pant, and his muscles are busy settling themselves before their next move. He's grinning anyway and his amusement is plain on his face; he leans up for another quick, playful kiss.

"I did think that you might, for the record. I weighed the possible outcomes -- accidentally doing you a harm versus finding you atop me, naked and grinning -- and decided I favored the latter."

It doesn't mean that he isn't about to retaliate either, for that matter, and he counterattacks, attempting to get the upperhand over Watson, which instead leads to a prolonged battle for the top position. They are too well-matched and not overly interested in coming out the victor for anything to escalate beyond playful tussling.

[armydoctor]

At last, finding himself conquered, effectively pinned down and quite trapped, Watson dropped his head back against the rug, laughing. "All right," he said, breathless, "all right. You win. Do with me as you will." He shut his eyes, grinning wildly. He was beginning to be hard again, as ridiculous as that was so soon, but a wild and naked wrestling match apparently could do that to him. He could feel Holmes's answering erection.

He released his grip on Holmes, and lay back limply, laughing silently. "I am at your mercy, you win."

[mustbetruth]

All too pleased to be the victor, more because of the rewards he plans to take for himself than anything, he gives Watson a breathless, but nonetheless involved, kiss. His first prize, of a few more to come. His cock is already on its way to readiness; he isn't surprised to find that rolling around nakedly on the floor with Watson is enough to revitalize his lust. It seems only right that he might take Watson -- quite literally -- as his grand reward.

"Perhaps I should have taken up rugby, if I am so successful at defeating a fine athlete such as yourself." He kisses Watson again and considers the placement of Watson's kisses on his list of addictions. "Though you can see why I never pursued the sport very much." Grinning, he glances down between their bodies. "I may be a difficult man to attract, but something about rolling around in close contact with sweaty, robust men always managed to affect me."