The letter farewell

Okay, I just want to say I suck at annologies (can't spell it either). This is just what the title says although a little longer. *grin* Holmes and Watson aren't mine and I don't make any money from 'em.



Watson stood and stared in amazement as his friend closed the bedroom door behind himself. “Holmes?” he whispered. “How is it you’re here? How did you recover?”

“Shhh,” replied Holmes, crossing to Watson in two strides. “Let us not talk of that now.”

“What do you wish to speak of then?”

Holmes did not answer. Instead he reached out and softly brushed his fingers along Watson’s left cheek and back to cup his neck. “Now, Watson, now there shall be no more words between us.” Holmes leaned forward and took Watson’s lips with his own.

Most of Watson’s instincts screamed at him that this was wrong, that he shouldn’t let his friend use him in such a fashion. But as Holmes pressed against him, Watson realized how good it felt. Slowly, very slowly, Watson began to respond, giving into Holmes like he had with no other. His arms went around Holmes’ waist and pulled him closer, trying to take control of the kiss and the situation as he had more experience.

But a soft sound from Holmes stopped him. He stood still and waited, wanting to see what Holmes would do next. With a rare, soft smile, Holmes reached out with his long fingers and undid Watson’s tie and collar, then the top buttons of his shirt. “Holmes, what…?”

“Shhh.” Holmes leaned in again but turned at the last minute and concentrated on kissing Watson’s jaw and down his neck. Watson was stunned as he felt a sensation he’d never dreamed of feeling, his knees were weakening and he knew they wouldn’t hold his weight much longer. Attempting to muster a coherent thought, Watson took a hold of Holmes and backed up towards his bed, falling upon it and pulling Holmes down on top of him.

That’s when Watson became aware of his reaction to the situation. He could feel Holmes very hard (and large) manhood pressing into him. That alone was enough to shock him, but to realize that his own was pressing equally hard into Holmes was enough to make him faint. Indeed he came very close to that point only to have Holmes stop and look at him. He looked at him with those gray eyes that could turn so hard in a second and yet now looked like a dove’s feathers in the spring. At that moment, John Watson realized what true love was.