My Fair Lord

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes.

*****************

The group of men climbed up the seventeen steps of 221B Baker Street and entered the sitting room. Sherlock Holmes, Doctor John Watson, and Inspector Lestrade were accompanied by a fair-haired young man who had just recently reached the age of eighteen years.

Holmes, Watson and Lestrade each settled comfortably upon the chairs and sofa. The young man stood by the fireplace and quietly listened as the three older men spoke.

"Congratulations, Holmes!" said Watson. "I admit I had my doubts as to whether you could actually pull this off, but you really did it, my dear fellow!"

"Thank you, Watson," said Holmes. "Lestrade, you must be satisfied. The capture of the would-be assassin of Lord Farrington is one more feather in your cap."

"Thanks to you, Holmes, the viscount is safe and can rest easily now," said Lestrade.

The young man said nothing as he listened to Watson and Lestrade continue to praise Holmes for the success of the event that had taken place earlier this night. His mind flashed back to the conversation that had taken place in this very sitting room a month ago.

"It's too dangerous, Wiggins," said Holmes. "I won't allow it."

"Please, Mr. Holmes," pleaded Wiggins. "I can take care of myself. Let me help you with this case. I live for the danger!"

"Don't be foolish, boy!" Holmes replied sharply. "It's out of the question."

But Wiggins succeeded in wearing down Holmes. Holmes reluctantly agreed and set down the terms.

"We have less than one month to prepare you for this assignment," said Holmes. "You've lived as a street urchin all your life. If you're going to successfully fool people into believing you to be Lord Farrington, you'll have to work very hard. I have much to teach you. It won't just be a matter of dressing you in the proper clothes. I'll teach you how to speak, how to behave and how to conduct yourself as a viscount. Much is at stake here."

"I won't let you down, Mr. Holmes," promised Wiggins.

And young Wiggins kept his promise. Holmes spent many hours working with Wiggins to transform him from the street urchin and leader of Holmes' Irregulars into a young man of good breeding who could pass as a viscount.

It was Lestrade who had noticed and pointed out to Holmes that young Wiggins bore a striking resemblance to Lord Farrington. And so a plan was formed to have Wiggins pose as the viscount who was the target of an assassination. The plan worked. The assassin was captured just in time by Holmes. Wiggins narrowly missed having his throat slit by none other than Miss Margaret Marsden, the young woman Lord Farrington was engaged to marry. Little did the viscount know that she entered his life for the sole purpose of ending it. After being captured she revealed the name of the man who had hired her. Lestrade would later need Holmes' help in capturing him.

Wiggins mind snapped back to the present. Watson and Lestrade finished congratulating Holmes and shaking his hand.

"Well, good-night, Holmes," said Lestrade as he headed for the door.

"Good-night, Lestrade."

"I'll walk out with you, Lestrade," said Watson. "Mary is waiting up for me, no doubt. Good-night, Holmes."

"Good-night, Watson," said Holmes. He stifled a yawn as he stretched his arms up and over his head.

Watson closed the door behind him as he and Lestrade left.

"I'm off to bed," said Holmes. "Turn out the lights, will you, Wiggins?"

The detective did not wait for a reply as he got up and went to his bedroom.

Wiggins did not say a word as he watched Holmes leave the sitting room and close the bedroom door behind him.

The fair-haired young man turned out the lights one by one, except for one that he would need to see himself out of the sitting room. During the past month Holmes had allowed Wiggins to stay in the bedroom upstairs right above the sitting room. It used to be Watson's bedroom, but the good doctor had moved out after entering wedlock.

Wiggins looked down and noticed a pair of slippers on the floor by the armchair. Just then he heard a voice from the bedroom.

"Where are my slippers?" muttered Holmes as he opened the bedroom door and stood in the doorway. "Wiggins, have you seen my slippers?"

"Yes," said Wiggins. "You left them by your chair. I'll bring them to you, Mr. Holmes. Go back to bed. You need your rest."

Holmes nodded, yawned again and turned to head back to bed.

Wiggins quietly got undressed. He placed each of item of clothing neatly on the sofa. Then he picked up the pair of slippers with one hand and used the other hand to carry the lit lamp toward Holmes' bedroom. He set the lamp on a small table just outside the door to the bedroom. Then he blew out the light and carried the slippers into the room where the detective was in bed.

There was just enough moonlight streaming in through the windows to allow Wiggins to see in the dark room.

He placed the slippers on the floor near the bed. Then he stood there quietly watching Holmes.

"Wiggins, did you want something?" asked Holmes in a sleepy voice.

"Yes," said Wiggins as he climbed into bed.

Holmes stared in surprise and moved over to allow room for the young man as Wiggins slipped into the bed and pulled the covers over himself.

"I want to know what happens to me now," said Wiggins. "The case is over. Will you send me away to go back to being a street urchin?"

"Send you away? Certainly not," said Holmes. "I've grown quite accustomed to having you here, dear fellow."

Wiggins smiled. Ever since he was twelve years old when he began working for Holmes by being his eyes and ears in various parts of London, he had grown to respect and admire the great detective. And now during this past month during Holmes' tutelage he had grown to love him. The feelings of attraction for the older man became stronger each day until now when Wiggins could no longer keep it to himself. He must now release his pent-up feelings and show Holmes how he felt.

Wiggins reached down beneath and covers and found it. He slipped his hand down Holmes' pyjamas and gently took hold of the detective's penis. Holmes gasped in pleasure as Wiggins gave him a hand job.

"I can do more than just this," Wiggins whispered to Holmes.

He pulled away the covers and moved over so that his head was down by Holmes' waist. The penis was firm and erect. Wiggins eagerly slipped his mouth over it and sucked hungrily.

The young man felt some pride when he sensed Holmes' reaction to what he was doing. Wiggins could hear Holmes moaning happily as he was being pleasured by the cock-sucking.

And I'm happy to do it, thought Wiggins. I'd do anything for this great man.

The rest of the night was spent with the two men satisfying each other over and over until they finally collapsed into each other's arms. The bed sheets were damp with their sweat. If one were to enter the room just then, one could smell the sex, for the scent filled the room.

What would Mrs. Hudson think if she were to come in early the next morning and find them in bed together? The question popped into Holmes' mind just as he began to drift off to sleep.

He did not care. He was happy and very content as he held Wiggins closely and stroked the younger man's soft blond hair and kissed his face.

"Sleep well, 'Lord Farrington'," he whispered.