The Case of the Haunted Hospital

 

 

 

 

Chapter 4   Repair

 

"Watson, Watson, answer me man!" Something warm and liquid filled my mouth, and I gulped and sputtered reflexively.

 

"Watson, are you all right?"

 

I opened my eyes to find myself on the floor of the sitting room. The taste of brandy was strong in my mouth.

 

Holmes sat beside me, his arm about my back for support. Wordlessly, he raised the glass to my mouth so that I might take another sip, carefully avoiding my eyes as he did so.

 

"I must have fainted," I said foolishly, and then blushed crimson.

 

Holmes closed his eyes, and I felt his grip tighten as he shifted to support my weight. "I struck your wounded shoulder," he said, his voice filled with uncharacteristic confusion. "And you did not stop me. Why did you not attempt to stop me Watson?"

 

"And I struck your heart," I said quietly, "though I did not mean to." The strength of his arm against me was immeasurably comforting, and as I breathed the warm tobacco scent of him filled my nostrils and sent strange messages to the remainder of my being.

 

"Holmes, why did you never just tell me?" I said. I was suddenly infinitely weary, and had to fight a pressing desire to weep. Holmes flirtations had amused and titillated me, whether I had admitted it or not; the anguish and loneliness which he suffered as a consequence of my visible indifference  had never before entered my mind.

 

Holmes laughed bitterly. "And lose the dearest friend I have ever had?" he asked. "Should I have endeavored to make love to you, uncertain of what you would say, uncertain even of what I should do? I assumed you knew, and tolerated my emotions as you would a child's longing for the moon."

 

I turned and looked at him quizzically. "Then have you never...?" My voice trailed off in perplexed embarrassment.

 

"I have not," he answered. "I have waited, hoping, through your marriage. And then, when you returned..." His voice quieted for a moment, then he said, "But tonight, when you touched me, so mockingly, my ridiculous hopes died in my breast and I realized that you could never look on me with similar emotions." His arm fell away from my back. "Can you sit up Watson?"

 

His words, and the hopeless tone in which they were uttered, pierced me to the marrow. I took a deep and shuddering breath, and made the only decision I could.

 

"Holmes?" I said uncertainly.

 

"You cannot remain here, now," he said. His face looked ghastly in the room's dim light, composed entirely of shadowed hollows and staring eyes. "I cannot bear..."

 

"Holmes," I said again.

 

"What is it Watson?"

 

I smiled inwardly to hear the touch of impatience return to his voice. "Would you put your arm around me again old man?" I asked carefully.

 

He sat as if frozen, his slender upper body taunt and his narrow face a mask.

 

"What are you asking Watson?" he said softly. "What are you playing at?"

 

"I really don't know," I murmured. "But I know that it begins with you putting your arm around me." Confused and frightened, aghast at my own daring, I shifted to lean back more firmly against his narrow chest.

 

His arm came around me slowly, tentatively, and I sighed.

 

"I knew," I said quietly, "I didn't want to admit it, not even to myself, but I knew." Heart hammering like a drum, I turned my face to his neck, and allowed my mustache to trail along the tender skin there. The feeling was exquisite.

 

Holmes made a sound that might have been a sob, or perhaps only a harshly expelled breath. "And you stayed? Even though you knew what I was?" he asked.

 

"You were, and you are, my dearest friend," I said, "And whatever else you are, I care for you as deeply as a man can care for another human being." My hand rose of its own volition to stroke the side of his face. Having made up my mind to see the thing through, I could no more keep my hands from his flesh than a kitten could help striking at a bit of dangling wool. Somewhere inside me a dam had broken, and almost unrecognized emotions threatened minute by minute to sweep me away. "I must apologize Holmes."

 

"Whatever have you to apologize for?" he asked in honest bewilderment. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply as my palm slipped across the hard angle of his jaw; not mocking this time, but learning, absorbing...

 

I inhaled at the feel of his heavily stubbled cheek. "For, for.. for knowing that you desired me, and for allowing you to go on and on without making my position clear. I have accused you of treating me as a child, perhaps that was because I behaved as one. I could safely deny, and enjoy, the feelings you engendered in me, knowing that you would never impose."

 

"Please, Watson, do not do this as a mercy to me," he said tightly, "I could live with your disgust, your hatred, but not with that."

 

"I do not pity you," I said quietly. "I am terrified by you."

 

With that his eyes flew open. "You fear that I might harm you?" he asked in alarm.

 

"Never," I said truthfully. "I fear my own emotions at your touch."

 

With that, Holmes wrapped his long arms about me, and cradled my head beneath his chin.

 

"Why?" he asked with unusual gentleness.

 

"Because you look at me with desire, and yet you have never spoken of love save with a sneer and a jibe." I said softly. "This, this... ghastly mess has caused me to realize that I have not been an unwilling recipient of your longings, but..." I trailed off uncertainly and my hands shook as I laid them atop Holmes'. "I could love you, my dear friend, but I shall not to be made a butt and scapegoat for my emotions and my lack of skill."

 

There was a long moment of silence. The look on Sherlock Holmes' face when finally I dared to glance upward was beyond description; his eyes glowed as they often did in the midst of a difficult case, yet this was not the predatory gleam I saw so frequently.

 

"You could love me, John?" he whispered. "You are not just saying that?"

 

His use of my Christian name caused my heart to pound more strongly in my chest, and my palms to grow moist. "I could," I replied, and then, voice shaking, added "and desire you."

 

Slowly, carefully, he moved his face to mine. With infinite gentleness his lips brushed my own, and then he leaned back reluctantly.

 

"All this time," he muttered, his voice rough with suppressed emotion, "I have hoped, wishing this day would come. And when it does I must admit I have no knowledge of how to proceed."

 

"Then can we not make fools of ourselves together?" I asked, with a boldness I did not quite feel. I brushed my hand lightly across his shoulder, shocked at the deep thrill which followed the motion and inflamed my senses.

 

"Do you mean that John?" he cried, seizing my hands again in his. "You would...?"

 

"Yes," I replied firmly, "I would. But not on the floor of the sitting room; think of Mrs. Hudson!"

 

Sherlock Holmes began to laugh in relieved delight; great honest guffaws. "Then let us adjourn to my chambers, where we can discover if we are really so foolish as all that. Come John!"

 

With that, Holmes leapt athletically to his feet and stretched out his hand to help me to mine. Shivering with emotion, I allowed him to tug me along.

 

 

 

Chapter 5   Reveling

 

Together we entered his bedchamber. Holmes twirled the key in the lock and turned to face me, never releasing my hand.

 

"John, are you sure?" he said earnestly, "For I don't believe I should be able to stop if this proceeds any further." He stood frozen in indecision.

 

Wordlessly, I came to him then, pressing my body against his own and claiming his lips in a deep and passionate kiss.

 

I could feel the barely controlled tension thrumming through his tightened muscles as I held him, and he jumped slightly as my tongue sought entry between his parted lips. His incredible mind was quick to absorb my lessons, however, and in a moment it was I who shuddered and writhed as his hands roamed across by back and his lips pressed demandingly upon my own. His touch descended slowly as he grew more bold, and I gasped as I felt his palms brush my lower back and buttocks.

 

"Holmes, please, can we sit down?" I begged after a moment. "My knees feel quite weak."

 

I had to smile as Holmes stared at me with startled joy. "Really, John?" he exclaimed, "How marvelous!"

 

Again I felt tears welling up behind my eyes as he led me to the bed. A child on Christmas receiving his heart's desire could not have shown more pleasure than Holmes did in those simple words.

 

We sat on the bed, after hastily pulling away the coverlet, and his nimble fingers made quick work of my upper clothing. Luckily I had recently adopted the new two piece vest and drawer sets, and in a moment I was bared to the waist.

 

"I fear I shall not win prizes for my beauty," I said softly. Holmes slid his left arm about my back, and with his other hand began to explore the golden curls on my chest.

 

"Do not ever say that John," he murmured, glancing quickly at my scarred shoulder, and then to my face. "You are quite possibly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." He bent to lave the base of my neck with his tongue, and I moaned with desire. The feel of his sleeve as it passed across my nipples was maddening, and I must admit I began to twist back and forth to enjoy the sensation more fully.

 

In a moment, Holmes noted my movement, and his fingers dropped to my pap. He began to pinch and squeeze at the taunt flesh, occasionally pausing to draw the rough tweed of his coat across the peak in slow circles.

 

"Good God man!" I moaned, as he shifted his attentions to the other nipple, "And you say you have not done this before?"

 

"But I have dreamed of it," he muttered; his face coloring. "Lay back John."

 

Panting, I lay back upon the bed and he leaned over me. I shivered as his mouth descended on my chest, licking and sucking the hard buds until they felt as if they were bursting.

 

"Please, Holmes," I begged.

 

He kicked away his slippers and stretched out beside me, propping himself on one arm.

 

"Here," I said softly, taking his other hand. Unable to endure, I pressed his fingers to the aching bulge at the front of my trousers.

 

Holmes moaned low in his throat, and I could feel him shake as he began to rub and knead my hardness through the thick cloth. With now-trembling fingers, he undid the buttons of my flys and pulled the material away until I lay mother-naked beside him.

 

I gasped as his fingers stroked the length of my engorged phallus and slid to cradle my testes.

 

"Do you like that?" he asked softly, cupping the tight orbs gently and brushing his thumb back and forth teasingly across their folded surface. Each pass swept across the underside of my shaft, and caused me to jerk in divine agony.

 

"Oh God yes," I whimpered, "But I can't, I need..."

 

Quickly Holmes sat up beside me and wrapped his other hand around my length. My hands clawed at the bed clothes as he began to slowly pump my straining member.

 

It took but a minute and I could stand the pleasure no more. I muffled my face in the pillow as I erupted in fountains of white.

 

"I'm sorry Holmes," I said desperately as the waves of bliss retreated. "I couldn't hold it any longer."

 

He turned to me then, and I was shocked to see tears on his face. I held out my arms, and he lay down with me.

 

"Why are you crying?" I asked gently.

 

"Oh John," he said, "you ass, don't you know? That you would let me do that, to you. That I should be able to cause you to do that. The wonder of it John!"

 

I embraced him tightly, unable for a moment to speak. The enormity of his emotion reached me at last, and I realized to my dismay how unloved and unlovable Holmes had felt himself to be.

 

Without a word I began to unbutton his collar.

 

"What are you doing?" he asked in wonder.

 

"Do not be so selfish, Holmes," I chided him, careful to keep my voice playful. "You have seen what you can do to me, it is only fair that I be allowed to reciprocate."

 

I stilled him as he began to speak, and went on, "And besides, Holmes, those who love each other generally do things *with* one another, and not simply *to* one of them as if he or she were a dolly."

 

Holmes smiled then, his eyes were beams of joy.

 

I removed his garments rapidly, kissing him as I did. When he lay naked before me I rolled atop him, spreading his legs with my own and supporting my weight on my arms.

 

Holmes gasped as I began to suckle one earlobe, pausing now and again to trail my lips along his neck. His stiffened cock lay hard against my own loins and I felt him jerk as our bodies ground together. The length of his shaft was less than my own, but his girth more massive; causing me a moments pleasurable terror at the thought of its' possible uses.

 

Moving carefully downward, I lashed my tongue fiercely across his chest until the nipples stood taunt and inflamed and Holmes lay moaning and writhing beneath me. When I felt he could stand no more, I blew softly on first one then the other moist peak.

 

Holmes arms came around me then, his fingers clawing at my back and buttocks. Stretching upward, I reclaimed his lips, sucking and biting at the reddened flesh, and thrusting my tongue fiercely into his mouth.

 

Shifting so that Holmes was astride my leg, I rolled to the side. He made wordless pleading noises as my hand moved to cup his buttocks. Holding him in place with one arm, I began to thrust with my leg and hip.

 

"John," he moaned, as his stiff phallus slid along my thigh. I slipped my other hand between our perspiring bodies and brushed my fingers across his weeping glans.

 

"Oh John," he cried again.

 

I twirled my fingertips around the small opening of his crown, transferring the moisture I found there to my fingers. My own erection had returned and was begging for attention as I withdrew my hand from his cock and slid it between his buttocks to feel for the tender opening there. Pulse bounding, I lubricated him, circled my fingers about and over this most secret spot.

 

Holmes bucked and begged as I rolled atop him once again.

 

"Do you still wish to be my Catamite?" I panted.

 

Holmes lay still for a moment, and I feared perhaps I had frightened him with the thought. Then he gasped out, "Oh God yes."

 

There was a brief tangle as we worked feverishly to position arms and legs, and then I found myself kneeling between his outspread thighs.

 

I slid one hand along his upright phallus, reveling in his cries of pleasure. Fearing to cause Holmes pain, I quickly moistened the fingers of my other hand again, with my own fluids, before I sought his tightly puckered anus.

 

"I love you John," Holmes gasped, as I slid the tip of one finger inside him.

 

"And I you," I replied. Carefully I advanced my finger, thrusting gently. I was astonished at  the raw and powerful sensations my action was causing, both in Holmes and myself, and I had to restrain myself from thrusting more deeply.

 

"Please, John," Holmes begged, "Take me."

 

Excited beyond my senses, I pushed my finger inside him to its' base, and began to work it around in growing circles. Holmes whimpered with each sweep across his prostate gland, and spread his legs to their fullest width. Offered such an invitation, I was unable to bear waiting any longer.

 

I withdrew my finger, and placed the tip of my swollen member at the opening to his body. I thrust lightly, and felt a pop as my glans pushed past the guarding muscle ring.

 

Holmes' breathing became a ragged panting moan, and I stopped, fearing I had harmed him.

 

"Go on," he choked out, intuiting my reason for stopping.

 

Reassured, I continued my slow progress, stopping only when I felt my bollicks brush his skin. Gently at first, and then with growing fervor, I worked myself in and out of that incredibly tight heat.

 

Holmes' speech descended into wordless gutturals as I began to pump his taunt erection with each thrust. As I rode him, he held my hips with such determination that I later founds great black bruises there, forming the shape of his hands.

 

Having already succumbed once to what the French knowingly call la petit mort, I knew I would not be long able to endure such pleasure. Awash with sensation, I pulled and squeezed at Holmes' unresisting flesh, driving him to the very edge of abandon.

 

As I felt myself beginning to explode deep within his flesh, I dropped my head and lashed the length of my tongue across the purpled crown of his shaft.

 

With a muffled shriek Holmes reached release; his narrow passage clenching about my cock.

 

For a long moment I did not move, unwilling to lose the sensation of filling him. At last, however, I withdrew, and laid down beside my dearest friend and love.

 

"Are you all right Holmes?" I asked, filled with sudden fear. What if the experience was not as he had thought? Would he turn from me now, unwilling to continue as we were, and unable to return to what we had been?

 

"I am more than all right, John," he said solemnly, wrapping his arms about me. "I am admittedly in love, for the first and last time in my life. If I should die now, I would do it happily, knowing that I have achieved such a thing."

 

"If you should die now," I said softly, stroking his face, "I, on the other hand, would be quite unhappy, and should spend the rest of my days mourning the loss of my life's greatest love."

 

I smiled and poked him vigorously on the chest, "Therefore you shan't by dying at anytime soon."

 

Holmes chuckled, then his face lengthened into a frown. "I say, John, what time do you think it is?"

 

I squinted at the mantle clock. "Why, it's gone eleven!" I said in astonishment.

 

Holmes looked perplexed, and then said, "John, I don't wish to cause a difficulty, but I'm unsure of how to proceed...?" He trailed off and looked at me in consternation.

 

"What the devil is it Holmes?" I asked, "Do you have an appointment you must keep?" I was both amused and astounded by his sudden lack of confidence, and by his desire to avoid offense.

 

"No," Holmes said, "It's only that actually I'm quite hungry, having missed both tea and dinner, and I did not wish to offend you by suggesting that we dress and go in search of sustenance."

 

My roar of laughter seemed to take him by surprise, and he smiled at me uncertainly.

 

"That sounds marvelous, Holmes," I said, noting his audible sigh of relief. "I'm ravenous myself."

 

It took but a few moments to gather up our scattered vestments, and we both began to pull on our rumpled attire. Holmes stood with his back to me as he did up his buttons, and spoke so quietly that I almost did not hear.

 

"And will you sleep here when we return?" he asked in a soft, tentative voice. He stood without moving as he waited for my answer.

 

I stepped up behind him and hugged him to me.

 

"Forever, Holmes," I whispered in his ear.

 

Forever.