Tuesday, June 22, 2010

Is It Possible 2 Be Allergic 2 Sanitary Napkins

* mumble mumble *

I love The Rocky Road to Dublin , but I suddenly wondered: what exactly has it got to do with Sherlock Holmes? In other words, what's the connection between Sherlock Holmes and Dublin/Ireland, if there is one? (Or maybe was there one in the film that I forget?)

Sunday, June 20, 2010

Naughahyde Armchairs From 60's

[Sherlock Holmes] A horrible choice problem

Titolo: [info] Un orribile problem of choices Fandom: Sherlock Holmes Pairing: Holmes / Watson Rating:
Various: PG, PG-13, R, NC-17

Word count: 2600

(100 x 26) (W )
Written by: Alphabet Challenge

@




holmes_ita


. There is also 26 letters in the title, oh.

Notes:
crossroads in history: your interaction is strongly recommended. This is what comes out when you need five or six plots and we do not even have one. Kids, do not imitate at home.






A

rrivai home at ten o'clock, tired and slightly annoyed - that the work authorization of irritation when we think we have worked more than they should for no reason. Mrs. Plummer was a lovely woman, but his hypochondria, sometimes tend to reach alarming levels. I dropped the bag on the chair, and unbuttoning the cuffs lying contemplated the idea of a hot bath.
I did not think Holmes was in the house - the telegram which I felt I'd been late, he replied that he would be out for certain investigations - and that is why I was amazed when I saw the thin blade of light from under the filter his door.
Greet Holmes (B ) or come down to ask Mrs. Hudson to bring you some tea (

C).



B USSA to the door but got no response. Then I turned up the handle, by exploring, and cautiously opened it a crack, not to disturb. Holmes was not in the middle of the room I could see (toilet, mirror, basin with water, the cabinet), and then I pushed the door fully, embracing also look at the bed. Holmes you slept over, dropped to the deepest of sleeps. She was wearing only her nightgown and robe, released their sleeves, rested on the back like a blanket, leaving out the white feet. A hand clutching thin as exhausted, a second corner of the pillow, unused.

approached the bed (

D) or away quietly (
E).




C onside with the idea of greeting him, but Holmes had an excellent hearing and had to know of my return since I was removed from the carriage. Or if the case was resolved, it might be that already asleep. We therefore prefer to get downstairs and ask Mrs. Hudson to bring us tea. I had not eaten, but it was so Later that hunger had passed. Meanwhile, I waited for my bathroom. While the maid filled the bathtub, I gathered my things in the room and within minutes I was comfortable in hot water, intent on nothing more challenging to get used to the temperature.

you fall asleep in the tub (

F) or you get up and go back into the living room (
G)?

D Ages confess that the vision erased any memory of the day, work, Mrs. Plummer and generally every other thought. Suddenly the hot bath did not seem to be a priority. I considered, and therefore unwrapped immediately, the idea of taking off my shoes, give a discharge to the door and take possession of the other half of the bed. But after thinking that I would not be able to get up, I preferred to approach and leave only a sign of my passage. If you should wake up in the meantime, he would know immediately that I had returned. I opened the wallet and left them covered well. The bathroom was short.
Holmes wakes up immediately (
H) or you leave without a sound (
E)? [info] E ra late, and now it was all I wanted to wash quickly and get back to bed - As I would have disdained a cup of tea - so I left Holmes in his sleep and prepared myself for the bathroom. While I collected the bag from the chair in the living room I saw a sheet of paper on the dining table, but I confess that I noticed there. Disorder reigned supreme at Baker Street, Holmes lived and overwhelmed by paperwork. already looking forward to my bed (actually that of Holmes), I undressed and I sat down in the boiling water with a sigh of gratitude for the maid of Mrs. Hudson. you fall asleep in the tub (
F) or you get up and go back into the living room ( G)?


F bears only sex, but I'm not sure, has powers similar to a hot bath when it comes to depriving a man tired of the few remaining energy. I spent ten minutes in the bath when I decided to rest his eyes for a moment, and maybe one more when the world is completely beyond my consciousness. fall asleep in the tub is not something I normally would, at least for a good reason. I woke up with water in your nose, coughing. Holmes was not there, yet for some reason ... Maybe I had dreamed. For some reason, I had expected to find him there beside me.


Back in the living room ( G) or in the bathroom is a little '(I ).


G IA
ten and a half, I thought, back in the living room to make a tea tray in the meantime Mrs. Hudson had left on the table. Mentally I thanked her and started to lift and carry in chamber Holmes, of course I would welcome, but the gesture delivered a piece of paper that flew on the floor. Leaving the tray, I took it and read. Now I reproached myself for not having noticed before.
was a telegram, it was not directed to me, but he was open. Holmes was to have forgotten, and this alone was alarming. He said: "Serious developments. Your client in mortal danger. Come at once. MH.
Go Room of Holmes (L ).


H Olmes not asleep as I thought, maybe I was not as quiet as I hoped, because he opened his eyes with a slight flicker of the eyelids and looked at me as if I was expected. Since the plan had failed, I bent to touch his lips with mine. The mattress creaked pleasantly. "Be right back," he promised.
Holmes five fingers squeezed my soft sleep around his wrist, his thumb stroking prominence of veins. He looked at me from under long eyelashes and heavy.
"Do not delay," he yawned. "It was a long day."
nodded automatically, without knowing whether he was referring to his or mine. After the bath, back in the room (Q ) or first pass in the living room (
R).


I
the sudden awakening so I was completely taken away the sleep, and could not feel so urgent the need to sleep, so I lingered a little longer in the bathroom '. I was about to leave when the door opened, and the threshold Holmes looked at me concerned and languid air together. Cannot sleep all its sharp curves in the kindest, all its power in strong smoothness. He put an elbow on the door jamb, and the temple on the forearm.
"For several minutes I ask myself," he said slowly, "what you're doing in this room that you could not do as well in my bed." Kiss ( M) or answer (N
).

"

J ohn?" He murmured, opening his eyes weakly. Closed them. "My dear ..." But he did not finish the sentence, as if he had elected not. The
unbuttoned her nightgown and I studied until I was sure he was okay. I felt a wave of nauseating fear when I saw the purple spot on his side, but it was just a bad bruise. There was the case of Morocco on the dresser, still closed. "Holmes, what happened? The telegram ... "" It's all resolved, " she whispered. "Do not worry." "You have a terrible complexion, and this bruise - my god, Holmes, you must tell me what happened." Holmes sighed. "Get to bed, do you mind?"
insisted on knowing what happened (

U).

"
K onrad," he said. "We created some problems." He said it as if it were one of the most dangerous criminals in Europe. Ten years ago had killed his wife and five children and fled from Berlin. "The biggest survived," said Holmes. "It was - is my client." "Holmes, dammit!" "The building was surrounded. I do not have any ongoing risk. "" So how do you explain ... "
" Negligence. I let myself by surprise. Stupidity. Watson, please. It was a long day. "
Serrai jaw, but I was tired too. "Tomorrow ..."
"Tomorrow." I kissed him, surprised to discover that I had not already done so, and within minutes both were sleeping. not you like? Start again and take another road!


L concern me in the stomach clenched. I opened the bedroom door without knocking Holmes, and there I found him asleep on the bed. There was a shadow of a wound on his person, but - I was just imagining? - I felt exhausted, surrounded by a sleep too deep to be natural. Her feet, which did not cover her robe, seemed to me too white. For a split second I was afraid that the color of burgundy fabric hiding the traces of blood. "Holmes! My friend, are you okay? "
I moved the robe from his body, and carefully I made sure that everything was as it should be.

Holmes wakes up ( J) or not (O
)?




M rs. Hudson and the maids were in bed, so did not listen carefully to the door and kissed him there, without even pull it in and close it. There are few things in the world as attractive as Sherlock Holmes with her hair tousled in all directions, and for some time I pledged to make them even more worthy of admiration. When we parted, I felt him smile on my lips. Without moving the arm from its position, it touched my cheek with a finger. "I was sprouting a mustache," I said. "At this hour?" I considered the objection and shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea, a moment ago."


Go into the bedroom with Holmes (W ) or kiss him again ( S).


" on N think I could wash myself in your bed," I said, leaning against the doorpost of my time and feeling acutely conscious of my nakedness. "It would not be comfortable, not too hygienic, and apart from everything ..." Holmes I put the palm of your hand on the sternum, turning it ninety degrees, he drew the line with his thumb down to the navel and continued more low.
"Apart from anything else?"
"... reminds me of the disease," concluded, uncertainly.
"Ah, but this is where you're wrong," murmured Holmes, without a movement. He looked at me with eyes that had lost all their weariness, and were now clean and sharp as metal. Interrupt (
S) or let it continue (

T).



O rror and fear mingled when Holmes had no reactions. It was not a normal sleep. I opened an eyelid and saw the dilated pupil, and a moment later I saw the case of Morocco on the dresser, opened, and the bottle half empty. Morphine and physical exhaustion, my god, what a horrible combination. You'll find a huge dark bruise on the side tenfold my anxiety.
Holmes woke up in the end, the tenth attempt, when it was on the threshold of panic. Seeing my expression, he murmured: "The door. I forgot to close it. "
"That stuff will disappear from home," hissed, angrily. "You hear me, Holmes? Tomorrow. "
Finale ( V).






P
made one of her hair between her fingers. "How do you know that about her?" I asked, diligent.
"Simple," he said. "Only Mrs. Plummer can exasperated enough to make you forget to ask the My first day of your talk. "
smiled. "And how was your day?"
"Long. Frantic. Lonely. Horrible. "" The case is solved, I hope? "" Perfectly. "
The rested a hand on her hip and it seemed to stop them the breath for a moment. "I am sorry for your bad day. I can help in any way? "
Holmes nodded, closing his eyes and getting closer.
"Turn off the light," she whispered. not you like? Start again and take another road!



Q hen I went in his room, Holmes was in bed, awake. The drawing-room door was already closed, so that the room looked out on the floor of Holmes, for the sake, shut the other. We knew that it was prudent to stay in that room, so close to the ground floor, but neither of them sought to address another flight of stairs. Before you even think about it, I was under the covers. "I had a terrible day," he began, leaving me on the pillow. Holmes put his cheek next to mine, moving with what seemed to me very carefully. "Mrs. Plummer is therefore a patient so bad as I think? "

Finale (P
).



R
itornai in the living room after a bath, turn off the light. It was then that the recent paper on the table. It was a telegram, it was not directed to me, but he was open. He said: "Serious developments. Your client in mortal danger. Come at once. MH. back into the room with a sense of fear dull, muffled by the fact that Holmes was obviously good, but united to irritation not to have known in time. "Holmes, what is this?" I asked, closing the door behind him. From the bed, Holmes looked at me blankly. "Nothing important. It's all resolved. " ignored the reassurances. When I undressed and found a horrible blue bruise on her hip, Holmes tried in vain to waver.
Ignore the useless protests Holmes (

U).


S
enza let him say anything else, I did what I would have had to do for some time now and shut the door, I pushed him with his back against it. The body of Holmes joined the mine, quickly, with all the plastic energy that's always admired. I picked up a handful of cloth of her nightgown in hand, lifting it from the knee, and then I left to venture on the side. I was going to kiss him again, all traces of evaporated sleep drunkenness, when Holmes gave a hiss of pain, like a snake.
"Holmes?"
"It's nothing. Contracture. "She smiled her best smile. "Let's go to bed." Finale ( Z).


" T assure that the disease would be the least of your thoughts, "he continued, his voice low and hypnotic as the tune of a snake charmer.
"How to doubt it," I whispered, duly charmed. With one click
contemporary, precise and smooth as a dance duo, Holmes got into a small bathroom and I Serrai the door, turning his back while he was leaving me imprisoned in his body.
"You'd be an excellent nurse," I said.
"Do not presume to contradict your experience," he said slipping on the floor with less grace than usual. He took me in her mouth as if it were the most natural act in the world, and the only possible consequence. Finale (
Z) or continue in zozzerie (

X).


U n
moment is what is needed to Holmes for me to do what they want - usually, but not this time. My friend had to read my concern and anxiety in the face, because when I refused to calm down without an explanation gave way first.
"Please do not believe that I risked my life and other such nonsense," he began. "The danger was all for my client. However, this particular crime ... "He hesitated, with a grimace, as if to continue the offensive personally. "... I admit the possibility of having underestimated the danger of his reactions."
"Who was that?" I replied. "You've never told her ..."


Finale (
K).


V Ides Holmes opened her mouth to protest but finally nodded. Morphine used only in times of depression more abject, and the substance had devastating effects. I thought I had eliminated all its stocks, but for God, I would repair his mistake.
"Swear. Swear to ... "
" No, "replied dry.
"At least tell me what happened."
Holmes swallowed. "Konrad," he whispered. "It was not as ... Please, go away." "No," I muttered. rebelled not - could not - when I lay down and took him arms. A hand crept up, hesitating, on my side. Tomorrow he would be ashamed, but tomorrow. turned off the light and within minutes both were sleeping.

not you like? Start again and take another road!

"

W atson," Holmes murmured, softly, "I waited an hour, while Mrs. Plummer palpate the colon or is it that you usually do ..."
"How do you ..."
"Lipstick, ear. I waited an hour, sighing at the thought of when I'd got in your arms ... "
" While it is a joke, told by you is terrifying. "" Stop interrupting. In your arms, I said, and what do you do? You get home, I'm not worthy of a greeting, an hour walk to the bathroom by making more noise than a circus ... "" My dear ... "" In the bedroom, "he ordered, his eyes turned to evil purposes. "Now."

Finale (
Z).



X I set my watch by the dial slightly hazy, laid open the cabinet on top of clothes. Eleven. I stared for a moment while Holmes was devouring me whole. The passion was not unusual, but at that moment, between the date of the bathroom weakness and disorientation for the unusual background, I am completely stunned. When Holmes went down to his lips lower down, the fingers led the way with gentle firmness, and then the language ... I closed my eyes, trying to bite stuff to stifle the sounds, but I found nothing but air and sank his teeth into cheek. Finale (

Y).

"Y

Our vows you've bro-o-oken, like my heart, oh why did you know Enrai Apture-a-me?" The voice that
raped
Greensleeves
under our window took a bit 'of solemnity and pathos in a moment that otherwise would have risked death to be too exquisite for words. Holmes raised his head and glanced behind him with a look of complete disgust that, even in complete rapture of pleasure, it seemed to me infinitely comical. "I swear that I will never do anything like this in your name," vowed, brushing his lips red and moist. "I hope so," replied before continuing. "You are terribly out of tune." not you like? Start again and take another road!


Z Hittites, who could not give up. Later, in the room, Holmes claims the lights out and a fierce love slow and as a first time. Before dark I saw the case of Morocco on the dresser, closed, and I felt immensely relieved that she had not opened. I'm not offended, I never offended, that Holmes would prefer to use me as a remedy to the sense of futility that would take him after the conclusion of a case.
I loved as one loves a precious thing, stifling our voices in both exhausting kisses. When we parted, chased Holmes in his half and within minutes both were sleeping.


not you like? Start again and take another road!

(1) Konrad's case is historic, this Berlin in the '80s that killed his wife and five children, locked them in the basement and built the scene so that it seemed that she had been and who had then committed suicide. In reality he was arrested and hanged, and none of the children survived.
(2) Yes, yes, the robe Holmes is mousy, but do not expect that he has only a , right?

Friday, June 18, 2010

Breville Bb300 Instruction Manual

Extemporaneous

Things I (blue) and Maour (red) do from time to time and really, we should not, would not be the case, but oh well. A little 'comments I've deleted the boundary, but they were all style "ah ah ah, what we're nice." The title at the bottom.






Laura writes:



each drabble begins with a letter



Laura writes:



ABC etc.


Laura writes:

whole alphabet


Laura writes:




so I used a word beginning with Y


Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:


ah understood






Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:


XD yogurt

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

yak

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

yugoslavia

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

yin (yang)

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also called the drowning of Celestia writes:

that thing

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

yoyo

Laura writes:

"Yogurt," said Holmes solemnly .

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

'contains live lactic acid bacteria, which promote normal bodily functions, "Watson interjected, without looking up from the column in the Times that he was reading.

Laura writes:

"This is the litmus test," said Holmes, inspired. "There are no more doubts. Our client, Mr. Sockpuppet is, therefore, constipated as I had always suspected. "

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

Watson shook slightly newspaper and folded carefully, laid it on the armrest of the chair. "My dear Holmes, it is up to you to jump to conclusions. My profession brings me know uses more ... Unusual ... of disparate noun. Forgive me if I might add that the plain yogurt with no sugar added fruit preparations and is used as an excellent remedy for a variety of empirical problems due to traditionally feminine hygiene immodesty and inaccurate, "he concluded, finally.

Laura writes:

Holmes frowned, annoyed by the objection. "Mr. Sock puppet is a man and a bachelor, and I doubt I ever suffered from gynecological disorders of any kind. Moreover, the yogurt was eaten, not used for questionable lavender genital six of which will certainly help. "

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

I Watson briefly flickered whiskers with indignation, promptly reneged. "Very well, then you realize that has not spoken, Holmes. Forgive my humble desire to widen your prospective field of study. I forgot how much you hate the unnecessary elements, so I will not say Mr. Sockpuppet that he might have eaten the yogurt to counter the action of powerful drugs that could alter the normal functions inside him. "

Laura writes:

Holmes curled a corner of his mouth in a grin of amused superiority. "My dear Watson, when I never said to believe that constipation origins of our client were completely natural

."

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

Watson shrugged and put his slippers - one of which had swung lazily perched on his big toe as he read - closer to the fireplace to stoke the dying fire. "I declare my defeat, Holmes. If you want to make a courtesy to my limited understanding, I will be grateful if you will explain the line of your comments. "

Laura writes:

Holmes calmly lit his pipe, sucking lazily. "It's the easiest thing in the world, my dear. The huge amount of yogurt purchased by Mr. Sockpuppet shows us the level of his serious constipation. His constipation shows us that he could not use the toilets of Miss Mary Sue the night he was killed, as they know that the murderess has done, since the valet said that Mr. Sockpuppet had already successfully solved his problem before you leave home. We must therefore conclude that it is sincere, and Miss Mary Sue was killed by another. "

continued to smoke, obviously pleased.

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

"So who is the culprit, Holmes?" Laura writes:

"I do not know yet," Holmes admitted. "But I know we are looking for a man with the opposite problem to that of Mr. Sockpuppet. Nothing less could push a murderess to use the bathroom of his victim. "

Elegant Arsene Lupin IV also known as the drowning of Celestia writes:

" I suppose you have reason, my friend, "Watson said quietly, returning to sit by the window," however, that this case has a singularly interesting. "

Laura writes:

Holmes shook his head, pausing for a moment to consider the puzzle to its simple intellectual value. "It's a dirty business, Watson," ruled. "I feel the stench from here."

Laura writes:

("Holmes and the case of shit ")

Thursday, June 17, 2010

Raid Flea Hardwood Floors

[Sherlock Holmes] All That Is Left, All That I hide (3 / 3)

Title:
All That Is Left, All That I hide

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes Pairing: Holmes / Watson, Watson / Mary Rating :

NC-17 Word Count: 17,700 (W) Part :

3 / 3

Notes: Begun a year ago for a project with

laurazel

which unfortunately is not come off, I finished a few months but the only place now that I could find some 'time. It is longish, angsty and talk about two issues that mi riescono più ostici in questo fandom: il matrimonio di Watson e la cocaina. Ma siccome almeno una fic su queste due cose l'hanno scritta tutti, eccoci qua.

Riassunto: Autunno 1890. Watson ha un matrimonio da gestire e un caso per Holmes. Holmes ha una dipendenza da gestire e un problema con Watson. Nessuno dei due è molto bravo a fare quello che deve fare. Seguono angst, complicazioni, e un giallo. Parte 1

Parte 2

Holmes non suggerì che tornassi a casa, e neppure lo feci io. In verità, non mi sentivo nello stato d’animo adatto per tornare così presto; se l’avessi fatto, probabilmente avrei ended up shutting my office, not wishing to talk to anyone, and Mary would have questions and concerns to no avail. Instead I wrote a note informing it that the case was resolved and that I would be held with Holmes for a few hours, and begged Mrs. Hudson to ensure it was delivered. Holmes briefly disappeared into his room and emerged with the mouse-colored robe draped on his shirt instead of a jacket and slippers on his feet. From the doorway, looked at me as if my presence constituted a few surprises for him, almost like I had snuck into the living room while he was distracted by other matters. went to retrieve the bottle of brandy and glasses. "Drink" he said handing me the one who had filled. Then she sat in a chair, while carefully studying sent down the liquor. "You look awful, my friend."

"I'm sure" I replied, a bit 'more sharply than I wanted.

He was silent for a while, then remarked: "Do you think we would find Isa Whitney alive." "No," I forced myself to admit, "I do not think so."

"Neither the scars of Mrs. Whitney are a great surprise, in retrospect. Those who depend on altering substances have a tendency to hurt people around them. "

"How strange," I said with bitterness. "I do not remember that you've ever turned off a cigarette on his arm." Holmes was silent for a moment - just one. "Physical violence is a way, of course, and one that I am not entirely eager to experiment, given the limited prospects of success." For a second I swore that I wish to make of the spirit, but his face was grim. "I would not go to say that it is the only one." "No." I put the glass on the table, shaking his head. "It's not what I meant."

"I know. That's what I meant. "I raised

eyes. "You've never injured under the influence of cocaine. Neither physically nor in any other way. " " It was never necessary. Just hurt myself, and the effect - your kindness, and an unfathomable mystery of the universe - is the same. "

As I pride myself on knowing all the nuances of expression of my friend, the face of this corrugai front of the dark. It was an attempt to apologize? Or the confession of something so monstrous that I could not even conceive?

Holmes had read the question in the face, because he hastened to add: "Not deliberately. Never deliberately. " Until that moment I felt that I felt the profound reduction was due entirely to the sad end of Isa Whitney, and the misfortunes of his poor wife, moreover, was not that reason enough? But were not the Whitney to get me one bewildering feeling of emptiness at the center of the stomach, pain that was not easy, nor compassion, nor any feeling that I knew to give a precise name. Now that he had taken up residence in a manner so blatant in me I realized it already felt for months before that day, had kept me company, I realized, even before the marriage. Only when I was back at Baker Street, however, the feeling was started to grow with such shocking violence, and now I felt my stomach twist and blunts the senses like a disease. was Holmes. He was my friend, and its proximity - no, not its proximity, rather than the profound effect that his neighbor had on me, with their unique ability to set fire to my right and trigger feelings of guilt that normally remained, relegated and docile, they turned the corner.

"Watson" said Holmes, piano. "You are not well, my friend. Lie down for a moment. " " I do not need to lie down, "I replied. "I'm not sick." "I do not pretend to express in diagnosis presence of a professional. On the other hand, I can say with certainty that you have not slept a minute tonight. "
I gave him a quizzical look, but Holmes was kneeling on the carpet in front of me and I was pulling the boots quickly and efficiently. Lifting the legs on the sofa cushions, Holmes answered my unspoken question: "The inference is ridiculously easy, my friend. Over the years I have accumulated enough evidence to your account to be able to say that, in spite of the big differences between us, some things have the same effect on both. The rest you can easily deduce it yourself. " He had me rest my head on the arm with a light but firm pressure on my shoulder.
I could not deny that the position was extremely comfortable, and I was tired, as Holmes had rightly concluded, more tired than I wanted to admit. Quite frankly I was exhausted. "That's better," said Holmes behind my eyelids closed. There was a slight clatter, then the sound of his weight, which was deposited in the chair. I opened my eyes when I heard the click of a lighted match.
"I thought I was terribly angry with me," I confessed, looking at him.
"I am" confirmed Holmes. "I'm sorry. How do I ... "
" You can not. It is not in your power. "
I sought comfort in the uneven color of the ceiling, stained by infiltration of moisture. I knew the layout of the spots in memory. Once Holmes had deduced that I had spent the whole day to just write the bad stiff neck that plagued me: when looking for inspiration for a phrase, I said, I used to look up at the ceiling and remain in that posture for whole minutes. I had not ever know. "I'd rather you did not visit the most?" "impute to your present condition of the bestiality of that question." [info] I paused, slightly raised. Lying on the couch, lulled by the breath of Holmes and the strong smell of his pipe tobacco, I dozed off shortly after. When I awoke, the pipe lay abandoned on the armrest of the chair, and Holmes was no longer in sight. With some effort leaned his elbow on the arm and turned to look in the other half of the room. I found him right next to the fireplace is off, his hands resting on the shelf and his head bowed, as engaged in deep meditation. On the shelf was the case of Morocco, open, with the hypodermic syringe poggiatavi over sideways. When Holmes opened the fingers of his right hand, I saw the bottle with cocaine in his fist. "Holmes murmured, thickly. "What are you doing?"
Holmes shook the bottle in his hand so hard that whiten the tips of your fingers around the glass. "Is not it obvious?" swallowed. "I'd rather you did not."

"And I would prefer that you have neglected from meddling, Watson. As you can see, none of us is a matter of getting what he wants. "
I sat down, resting his temple against the back of the sofa. At one time I would have delayed the match with relative ease of Holmes with cocaine, making use of a power that I had not even lost, but I no longer had the right to exercise. But in truth it was - had always been - a losing battle, and awareness with a wave of nausea came over me.
"You're punishing. You're punished and you're right to do so, and I beg you not to quit, but please, I implore you to find another way. One that does not provide for your own destruction. Holmes. " He spun around, eyes flashing in spite of the calm tone of voice. "Of course, Watson, the only purpose of my life committed suicide so that you can shed a tear over my grave." I drew back, though only an inch from his cold fury.

"Holmes, is not what ..."
"Do not try. Your dialectic as your prose is weak and not at all persuasive. "
" Holmes, I am concerned for you, dammit! "

My friend just wrinkled his forehead. Not curse often. "I'm afraid you'll have to get used to it, doctor," said dish.

I reached in front of the fireplace, grabbing his right wrist. Holmes stiffened and shook even stronger response in the bottle in his hand. "I will not do anything like that. If you think I can stay here and watch as destroy your body ... "

" Do not look, then! "Said Holmes. 'Go home. Nobody asked you to stay. "

"I love you."

Holmes clenched his jaw, while the statement appeared to have the opposite effect to that hoped for: instead calm him down, it flared up even more.

is a known fact closer to his knowledge that the greater the anger of Sherlock Holmes, the greater his composure. 'Anger' is not even the most appropriate word because it evokes images of rash and voices raised, while Holmes is nothing like that. However, anger is in any case, although its particular type.

"Get out of this house."

'Are you hunting? "

" Yes. Now levami your hands off me. "

Under furious fingers felt the pulse of your veins. The fingers began to ache for the strength of the close, and just as Holmes was to hurt the wrist, but he did not make a move.

"I love you" I said, without looking down.

"There is no such thing. And now go home to your wife, is waiting for you. "

I wiped his mouth. I let him go, feeling only slightly guilty about the signs of reddish fingers that I had stamped on his wrist. Holmes turned his back on me, put down the bottle and stared at the syringe of cocaine to the case with its leather string. Then across the room and deposited the case in the drawer, closing it with a turn of the key. He turned and walked the room with his eyes until he found what he was interested. With two rapid strides retrieved the pipe, flared and flung sprawling on a chair.

Calò silences one of the longest and most embarrassing of my life.

"Holmes" I called him at the end.

not move a muscle, except for his lips which pressed and relaxed around the mouth of the pipe, inhaling the smoke.

"Holmes, look at me."

obeyed, after a full minute. What I saw I did not like, but it gave me determination: he was angry rather than depressed. The irritation was a bad sign, but I knew a deal. I was powerless against depression.

"A few months before the case of the Agra treasure, brought me to know your brother Mycroft to the Diogenes Club At one point scorgesti the window one of the Irregulars, who was waiting at the entrance with a message for you, and you left the room . I kept staring at the eyes of Holmes, I dissect it piece by piece suddenly burning with curiosity. "Mycroft had read my stories, and treatment of deductions. He asked us how long ... how long. I told him. I told him I had always been extremely cautious, and who had no reason to worry about you. "

kept me from blinking.

"He told me he was not worried. For the moment there were only rumors, he said, nothing more than mere gossip inn. He told me that he began to worry in a year or two, and three or four would not have had more reason why he would be resigned to his brother only through the bars at Reading Gaol. He told me in a very calm tone: the tone of a fact. "

The rapid succession of emotions on the face of Holmes, as the most dismal and dangerous, threatened to make me lose the thread, but I held him tightly.

"There had been warning signs, but until then I had chose to ignore them. Mr. Doyle had informed me with growing concern the existence of a group of admirers - mostly young ladies from literary bent - who had given the absurd name of 'Baker Street Irregulars' and had begun to circle secretly works about the scandalous nature of our relationship. Mycroft did not tell me anything new. He just perspective what would happen if I let things take their course. "

I took a quick breath, infinitely tired.

"I told him I would never have allowed such a thing."

Holmes pulled his pipe from his lips, the expression frozen in a grimace of astonishment. "Crazy," he said finally. "What have you done?"

"Sorry" I muttered.

He jumped from his chair as if he were running for his life. She grabbed his forearms on the road and sent me crashing into the wall. I ignored the vibration that reverberated painfully on my injured shoulder.

"Crazy idiot with no brain!" Bellowed, his face inches from mine. "What have you ... How could you believe it ... Why did not you come to ..."

"Sorry" I said, freeing a hand to lay it on her cheek. "Sorry, Holmes. You do not know how sorry I am. "

shut me up against the wall with the weight of his body and kissed me. Received him with joy in despair, without question, a desire heightened rather than dampened by the brief meeting the night before. It was what I had feared, but now it was happening I found myself unable - to forgive me, Mary, wherever he is now - unable to spend a thought for my wife. Later I would be justified in saying that Holmes had loved long before any obligation of contracting marriage, and the excuse I would have looked so grim and pathetic that I would be disgusted with myself. But this later, after having lost both. At that moment I did not think anything like that. At that moment I did not think at all.

Stratton story reached the bedroom door of Holmes, and it was then that he regained self-control and drew back, his hands still firmly sunk in my hair. I combed them out with your fingers and I am sure that comically soar in every direction. "No," he murmured, sounding breathless but determined.

"Holmes, for the love of God ..." I began, in despair at the thought that he had changed his mind.

"In your room, in a minute." And then he added, to clear up my confusion: "It is not the case that we feel the whole house."

I drew her to me for another kiss, which could last a lifetime and strip away what little control I had left.

"I'll be right," Holmes whispered, pushing me in the right direction.

The bed had been remade, but when I bent down to breathe in the faint deposited on the surface of the pillow, I felt distinctly tobacco and grease Holmes, together with the aroma of his special person. Holmes entered a moment later, clutching the door behind him.

had left the robe in the living room, staying in his shirt sleeves. Or perhaps he had left on the stairs (this picture seemed inexpressibly erotic). He stuck a finger in the knot of his tie, loosening it, and kicked off her slippers with the grace of chance. Lock the door, I complained possession of his mouth and scacciai his hand, letting the thick silk of the tie between the fingers, blindly, until it was dissolved. A hand of Holmes was deposited on my side, stepped over his jacket and pulled the hem of his shirt from his trousers looking skin beneath. The thrill that followed took me to hold me closer to him, as if searching for a heat source, although the source of heat and the thrill of were the same.

shook his shoulders in his hands, taking advantage of the tie loose to seek access to her neck, her throat. I kissed the hard line of the jaw and the importance of a vibrant vein, and directly into the ear shell finely chiseled confessed for the third time, looking for a relief, a closure that no one else could give me. "I love you" I whispered, destroyed by the thought that he believed me a liar. "Holmes, I ..."

"Watson, do me the immense favor of silence?"

I pulled back, as if slapped, but Holmes took my face in one hand. "I suffer the same disease, and do not want it remembered. Not now. "As he spoke I drove with gentle insistence to the bed, and I moved back by following his leadership.

is all too easy to forget that Sherlock Holmes is, in fact, a very strong man. Something in the mind refuses to involve a lot of energy to a figure so thin, so thin finger at such a concert movements faster than powerful, more elegant vigorous. My brain does not forget that Holmes is a fighter and a boxer first class, paid equally in fencing and in the melee, but sometimes you can leave out the details, preferring to focus on coordination and harmony and grace and sensuality of gestures. It is a mistake.

Holmes pushed me lying on the bed with what seemed to me the force of his weight, then, kneeling on my thighs, he attacked my clothes as if to ignore the passage required buttons and rip them off. But even if he did, I can not say I'd noticed, as I was taken by the occupation itself, the frantic desire to find every inch of her skin that had been mine, of that body on which no other, once had been able to claim any rights. The folly of my choice, even though the time was thought-up the agony, I appeared in full force, and a part of me warned me that this was, this was what I had feared, and that had kept me away from him since my wedding day, this awareness that the face of Sherlock Holmes, my world stopped and then accelerated frightening, took a turn in opposite direction, and what was sensible and rational I looked foolish, and that was crazy and reckless not to succumb to the only solution.

Self-Holmes was superior to mine, since he managed to discover his torso, leaving my clothes to be free, while I can not say the same of what happened to her. A button of his waistcoat gray dall'asola jumped with a snap and was deposited in the hollow of my throat. Indifferent to the damage, Holmes bent down to pick it up by mouth, taking care to pass on my skin, teeth, and spat it out with the utmost nonchalance. As I tried to undo her shirt at the same speed but less violence, Holmes slipped off the vest from his shoulders and dropped it on the floor, then unbuttoning the cuffs. I could wait to rid himself of the garment, but at that point the desire to kiss him again I was eating and had to pull his face on mine, our chests in contact between the wings of their shirts. I allowed myself to scroll through the disordered hair between his fingers, savoring the soft texture and heavy with that of his tongue in my mouth. I let roam a hand on her neck under the collar of his shirt, and then the sea accartocciai in the palm of cloth to touch the back, hips lean, the importance of the vertebrae at the base of the neck.

In another world, I was sure I was allowed to spend the rest Life of Sherlock Holmes with his tongue in my mouth and my fingers in her hair. In this ideal world, from our entirely dissimilar except in one aspect, I never felt the need to breathe or eat or drink or to meet any emergency, even those pressing the flesh, because the two joint actions have fulfilled my every desire deadly until the end of my days, and in this way would have consumed my life, without ever getting tired or wanting more, in the kiss of Sherlock Holmes and the scent of her hair grease.

lips Holmes refused to leave more than a fraction of an inch from my shirt and got rid of some awkward twist, and I was still wearing As I lifted up on one elbow and then, clinging to him, pulled me down to imitate him. I felt his fingers running through delicate scar naked, shoulder, opened to the scapula in a lump asymmetric. Over the years, Holmes was busy with a great effort to replace my sensory memories related to that scar - ugly, feverish, desperate - with many more happy and private in nature. Would always be a reluctance, but now the effect that a wise touch had on me was more like a thrill of expectation that one of repulsion.

Although the world had changed around us, spend more time just to kissing than we ever did, even more relaxed in meetings. I would not call patience, nestled in the lower abdomen of the urgency was devouring me, stunning deaf with ringing in the blood that runs through my temples, but the desperation to leave Holmes, even for a moment, even to find a greater pleasure, the kept at bay. Like a drowning man who prefers to keep holding on to a miserable wreck, rather than abandon it and swim to the shore, which also is not far away, I kept holding on to Holmes - Holmes and me - but not daring to let my hands wander on his back naked.

I knew that the urgency of Holmes was equal to mine, because I felt it press hard against me, his imperious desire and unequivocal. When I thought that this would be enough to shred my ability to think, his hands, more bold than mine, let me go back and within seconds they were right in my belt and my pants. Then he pulled his knees by the mattress on the sides of my hips and stood up. I realized with a sudden, cold emptiness in front of and around me, which left me an orphan and Holmes in the throes of a painful pang of deprivation.

Holmes finished undressing in silence, staring into his eyes as he did. In a second he was completely naked in front of me, without showing the slightest trace of embarrassment or shame as my eyes slowly climbed his body, and finally rejoins her. "Mark my words, John Watson," he said slowly. "Tonight you will not go on your legs."

It could have been a joke, but it was nothing like that. Holmes said in a fierce tone, threatening, a threat that was not the playful lovers, but the deadly predator. He was aggressive but also exhausted, with a faint note of exasperation. It was as if all the patience and tenderness and compassion of which I knew it could be dried up, leaving a core of love angry and sharp as a bush of thorns. He was one of the strangest moments of my life, see the man who had loved me so much look at me as if meditating to hit - and all without stopping even for a second to love me totally and irrevocably.

was the love that undid me, I think. The hatred I could stand it.

I sat up in the short space between the bed rail and Holmes, indeed already feeling my legs get weak in the knees. I thought I would say many things and not said no. Holmes would not have forgiven him because I asked, as I wanted it desperately.

"I will not go," I muttered at the end, taking his face in his hands. I pressed my lips on her floor, and moved on the corner of his mouth a moment before the dischiudesse. I kissed his cheek, and three points, the strong jaw, then his forehead, chin, nose. I kissed her temple, an eyelid and the other, covering the gray for a few moments of his burning eyes. I kissed her ear, conch, lobe, with all the delicacy of which I was capable. Neck kisses became more intense and longer, and I took the time on the throat, feeling the pulse of increasing blood on my lips, no less salty taste of her skin. The Adam's apple quivered just below my kisses, but did not move.

When I leaned over my shoulder I felt Holmes's hand raised, as to put an end to all that, I stopped her and held her in my tying up in the air. Holmes did drag, but held off for a few seconds - Time to cover it with kisses from her neck to the joint - in a bizarre sort of confrontation. At that point, Holmes gave way. I kissed the biceps, the hollow of the elbow, and a scar from memory (a knife, smear). I kissed the blue veins of the wrist and palm. I kissed each finger from the knuckle to the fingertip, feeling it bluntly take a breath, and repeat the entire operation on the other side.

I kissed your chest, nipples thesis for the cold and excitement, the sternum in which shook the echo of a pulse. I folded the healthy leg on the floor and picked up where I left off: the stomach, abdomen contract in a breath, the navel. Every inch was dear to me, and every new, every corner, every fold of skin brought with them memories. Rediscovered them as proceeding, as if carved in the flesh I expected. Holmes felt as they move to follow the die of my own thoughts, short of breath when I lose myself, stiffen and relax when I did. A whole shared history - not a life, but two - I ran under the eyelids, and could not be clearer if each moment was recreated again in front of my eyes.

When I stopped just above the groin, I had the curious impression that at least an hour had passed since we entered the room. I closed my eyes, leave me with a sigh to the familiarity of the moment, loved the smell of Holmes. I drew the outline of his erection with his lips, pausing on every sensitive spot that I knew by heart, letting your fingers in a socket as firmer around the base. The breath of Holmes, accelerated, was propagated in continuous vibration until his stomach when he felt a jolt in the mouth greeted net. At a time unknown, Holmes I pulled back a lock of hair from his forehead.

I had intimate relations with other men in my life. I learned by some, for others I taught. But there is a huge difference - visceral, I would - including a meeting with a gentleman in a club and a with the person whose every hair and fiber and cartilage are etched forever in your soul, hidden in the depths of your being. I know the body of Holmes as my own - better than mine - because I have spent hours and days of my life to memorize every detail. I know how to please him in the most slow and exhausting, which dry up its forces in a delightful point of exhaustion, or the more rapid and intense, like a blaze of sulfur that is immediately consumed, and every shade in between. I learned that his pleasure was mine, and because the privilege of being the sole owner demanded absolute perfection.

Holmes had been silent until then, on purpose, I suspect, so terribly angry with me. But something had to be loose in its determination to remain angry, and when I got it in the mouth gave way completely. I heard him say my name, one syllable of breath, soft as a caress, and then his fingers were in my hair and my world shrank to a tiny bubble of Sherlock Holmes which occupied every corner.

The time would have the same consistency and smoky distorted dreams of many of last year, it was not for the strength of Holmes in my hands. However, in the months to come the memories I have visited so often in the thousands and thousands of variants, which are no longer convinced of what happened really and what does not. For example, I could swear that I do not at this point Holmes had pushed on the bed and held up to let me cruelly lacking an ounce of energy. Nor do I feel able to ensure that the story thus far proceeded exactly as I have narrated. Maybe the door of my room had a less marginal role, perhaps a tie (my, his) was used to tie my wrists to the headboard, or his. But among the many variations I like to think of choosing one that Holmes would have approved, even though I have no way to ask.

I apologize. Men sometimes have strange ways of honoring the memory of loved ones.

Holmes uttered a guttural sound, very gratifying, and strengthened the grip on my hair. I would not call them yanked, because it would seem a rude gesture and it was not in good conscience, but with all his self-control and the palpable desire not to show any weakness, given the unique atmosphere that was created between us, I shall, without compromising the 'fierce urgency that devoured him. I would have done anyway, but no more waiting, I was ready to obey. I am not exaggerating when I say that I would do anything, any layer of modesty I ever had I had been ripped off like a suit uncomfortable.

His abdomen twitched beneath my fingers and I heard him take a sharp breath and let slip a hand around my member, giving me some brief moment of relief. Holmes stiffened and then sank back into my mouth profusely. The familiar feeling of sudden and total made me doubt for a moment that more than a week had passed since the last time we were together.

The kiss that followed was something strenuous, dirty and delicious. I was raised from the floor, pushed on the mattress and immediately dominated by the weight of Sherlock Holmes on my thighs. I helped him get rid of his trousers at the same time not resist the temptation to take his buttocks in his hands, test its consistency sleek and muscular. Holmes looked at me, perhaps appeased for the moment, but certainly not satisfied. I strive to

be as objective as possible when I say that what followed was a full-fledged rape, and my full cooperation not mitigated ferocity, if anything, helped to raise them. Holmes pushed me into a reclining position, and leaned my head over to retrieve something from the drawer. I took a nipple between his lips, because the movement had offered me in the mouth. Holmes I gaze down, his eyes clouded with desire, and shrank over himself to kiss me again, dropping his conquest on the pillow.

I'd do anything, and so I felt even more helpless when Holmes, opening the jar, picked up part of the substance with the fingers and proceeded alone to prepare before my eyes. I did not expect me asking, implicitly or explicitly, but his eyes when I made a gesture I froze in place, such as certain snakes that have the power to hypnotize the victims. My assistance was not required. I guessed that Holmes thought enough of me left control until then - the extent of irritation that caused him so now I was not yet clear - and that can not be left over. If I still had some doubts, his sharp "No" when I again tried to touch it convinced me completely.

What else do you think you deserve?, I thought I would say that his eyes half-closed. Enabling use as an instrument of pleasure is almost too, after what I've done.

But I had to have entered a kind of delirium, because I doubt that even without speaking Holmes would never expressed in a manner so bleak.

"Holmes, please. Let me ... "

" No. "

I blinked for the first time in whole minutes, to the spectacle of Sherlock Holmes with three fingers deep in her body until his knuckles. Had spent time since the last time: I saw him take out the front in a grimace of annoyance, but not withdraw. Never retire. I raised a hand to stroke his temple and relaxed Holmes Briefly, the eyelids trembled for a second over his gray eyes. I'm fairly certain that at that moment my resolve broke, and I whispered to forgive me, though I knew it useless, so the slightest recognition by Holmes is able to ruin my best intentions.

regretted it. Holmes became the eyes of steel and with a shake of the head broke free of my hand. Then, with determination, he took another piece of cream and applied it to my State. Not only made a movement too, and this made everything much more heartbreaking. Slipped further, and slowly rose up on his knees, but without the slightest hesitation, he fell on me. I am sincere when I say that anything else would have been greeted with the same pleasure, but did not produce the same effect. None of the thousand scenes that my mind has brought me in recent years has the same force.

I would have remembered the last day, I thought making an enormous effort to breathe. His face was unnaturally flushed, her eyes closed, lips parted, her chest with the signs of my passing, lean meat on the ribs, the expanse of her abdomen and pulled compact, my God, I already knew, I would die before the 'I abandoned image. In my darkest moments, fly to want to eradicate it from my mind, this and all the others, and I seem to go crazy. I wonder if this was the intent, if that vision which gave me was not the apotheosis of my punishment, my personal nightmare for the days to come. Or maybe I imagine it too cruel?

could undo the easy thing, honestly, I was adrift for some time of my senses. It was heartbreaking and perfect, infinite and terrible, as the best nightmares. Holmes kissed me, whereas with the hips took away the last glimmer of reason, and so sudden was the pleasure that risked to chop off the tongue with his teeth. He drew back with a sound of surprise, but did not protest, and when I kissed her again I felt the taste of blood. Even today, when I wonder what is true of that terrible afternoon and what is dream, I remember the taste of iron in the blood of Holmes for a moment I was assailed by the mouth.

I went back to the world a minute or an hour later. The sun was down sharply. Under my fingers were straight locks and heavy metal from the glimmer.

I felt exhausted, so completely consumed even turn around to the side and put his arm around the waist of Holmes proved difficult. The movement woke him, if he were sleeping, but it froze as I had feared. I kissed diligently the first vertebra.

"Mrs. Hudson is about to serve dinner, "he said. "Duck, judging by ..." I did not want

to listen to long and no doubt correct sequence of deductions that had led, in my bed, to discover the dinner menu. "Are you hungry?"

"No, not right now."

"Mrs. Hudson if he would not hurt if a late dinner, I'm sure. "

" What for? "

" No goal "I said, brushing the ear with his lips. "I see that you do not hurry, either."

"No?" Said Holmes. "You should."

"Should I?"

"Your wife is waiting for you."

the words I opened a hole in the stomach. I remained silent, deathly ill at ease, without moving a muscle. Holmes put his hand to his mouth to cover a huge yawn and then sat up, stretching his arms and back like a cat.

It was a play, of course, and a rather cruel, but Holmes is the best actor I know, and over time I learned that cruelty is the last resort when nothing else is that has helped.

"I thought I wanted my company tonight," I said finally.

"I say that? If I told you it must be true. However, your wife is still waiting. "

"Mary knows ..." No, I could not finish the sentence. In good conscience, I could not. "I'll stay if you want me."

Holmes glanced at me and smiled, colorless. "My dear, I get along very well during the twenty-nine days a month where you do not see it. A few hours more or less will make little difference to me. One world, I'm sure, for the lady. "

" Do not do that, "I whispered. "Please."

Holmes stood up, hiding a small protrusion of her body in a sudden twist. "Go home, Watson said, taking a gold cufflinks from the table and studying it for a moment with the air of not knowing if it were his or mine. Then he picked up a pair of pants from the floor and if its definitely put them on bare legs.

"Holmes ..."

"I intend to go to my room and stay there until Mrs. Hudson will not rise with dinner. By then I want out of this house. You will be welcome tomorrow, tomorrow, in a week and whenever you want. But now, you'll leave. "

I covered my eyes with one hand, holding one by one all the things I wanted to say and Holmes did not want to hear. I heard footsteps and the rustle of cloth naked as he finished dressing.

"If there was another way, I would."

Holmes I gazed coldly. "I counted no less than five while you were asleep. But you felt that there was one, and have acted accordingly. You are and you have always been master of your choices, Watson. And just as I am master to bestow my forgiveness to those who prefer it. "He gave me my shirt. "Go to your wife. And your son, "he added after a second, with a strange vibration in his voice.

"My ...?"

"Congratulations" Holmes murmured, his hand on the key. He was paler than ever, and suddenly immensely distant, as if waiting for something else for his immediate attention. I thought cocaine and snapped up. My body weighed a thousand tons. "In both," he continued. "I know him to refer."

was already out of the room when I set out to achieve it, and my strength deserted. I dressed slowly, as drunk. The irony of the situation was something I realized only over time, that evening I contented to perceive the tragedy. The guilt would kill me, I was sure, not even suspecting that it was only the beginning.

down the stairs I paused outside the door of Holmes and I found it ajar. I pushed her with his fingertips, holding my breath. Holmes was lying in the middle of the bed, one arm folded over the front of the other stretched over the edge, rolled up his sleeve on his arm and a tiny, terrible drop of blood glistening in the crook of his elbow.

If that day had acted differently, it would be here with me now? Maybe we could get back our old life, perhaps, in time, I could convince him to forgive me. I do not know. Everything now seems preferable to what I did, yet I can not contemplate a different scenario, one in which not closed the door quietly and went, as I had asked my wife and my unborn son.

He must have known when he had left it open because I saw that I had a lifetime to regret it.







Note:
the unlikely event that someone had missed the implication, in April 1891 Holmes will commit suicide (yes, you can not call it otherwise) in Reichenbach.


Funny Names For Sororities

[Sherlock Holmes] is left All That, All That I hide (third)


Title:
All That Is Left, All That I hide

Fandom: Sherlock Holmes


Pairing:
Holmes / Watson, Watson / Mary

Rating :


NC-17 Word Count: 17,700
(W)

Notes:
started last year for a project with





laurazel


which unfortunately has not come off, I finished a few months but the only place now that I could find some 'time. It is longish, angsty and talk about two issues that I find most difficult in this fandom: the marriage of Watson and cocaine. But since at least one fic about these two things have written everyone, here we are.

Summary:
Fall 1890. Watson has to manage a marriage and a case for Holmes. Holmes has a dependency on and manage a problem with Watson. Neither is very good at what he must do. Below angst, complications, and a yellow.





When I reached the apartment in Baker Street for many years I shared with my friend Sherlock Holmes, had recently passed eight o'clock one evening in the autumn of 1890. In the afternoon I sent a telegram to tell him that I would come, adding that I need to talk to him a rather serious matter, for which I intended to ask for his intervention.

For some time my attempts to get in touch with Holmes had proved vain, which I had not a little frustrated, so much so that, despite having received no response, decided to apply equally to the apartment and see for yourself if, as I thought, Holmes openly trying to avoid them or whether he had the hands of some important business which had not wanted to put aside.

Mrs. Hudson greeted me with the familiarity of ever, and reproached me, as every time it was the infrequency of my visits. He informed me that Holmes was at home in the morning. Do not set foot outside the house for several days.

In itself it was not anything strange when they had cases to work on, Holmes used to stay in the living room and languishing pitifully until something distracted him from inactivity. But if you really were the case, I would expect that to be accepted with enthusiasm the news that I had a case to be submitted, or at least that responded to my telegrams. I would have expected at least a flicker of curiosity.

I opened the drawing-room door following a nasty habit of entering without knocking in what, until a short time before, had also been my home. The room had been used recently, perhaps hours or minutes before, as evidenced by the fireplace, dying but still on, and cover the sofa with slightly crumpled. On the mantelpiece was the dish with the leftovers of tobacco of the day, rather scarce. The table of chemistry seemed unused for some time.

automatically my thoughts went to the bedroom of Holmes, so I joined and I knocked on the door firmly. It was not late, Holmes must have finished eating and not much doubted that she was already asleep. When there came no response, I tried to knock a second time.

"Holmes? Are you there? "

The door was not locked. I opened it very slowly, with some reservations. I very rarely Holmes had admitted to his room, and I had not ever allowed to enter in his absence. One time I had reached there without being invited, and the next morning Holmes had made it clear that, as no doubt welcome the immediate future, such a breach would not be tolerated again.

The room was empty, the bed unmade. I sighed, feeling a principle of exasperation, and went out closing the door.

There was no alternative: inforcai the stairs and walked the second floor. I could not conceive of a logical reason why Holmes should be there, after I moved, the room was left bare and empty as all the vacant rooms. But I'm not Sherlock Holmes, and I do not think that everything moves from logical reasons, even Holmes himself. In this case, I suspected that the reasons, if any, were of another nature.

"Holmes? I'm coming. "

The vision that greeted me at my entrance was the most pitiful and disturbing. The curtains were drawn, a dimly lit candle on the nightstand next to the custody of the Moroccan Open, with the hypodermic needle placed above. On what had been my bed lay Sherlock Holmes, my friend Sherlock Holmes, the most brilliant mind of England is completely prostrated, one arm folded above his forehead and the other stretched over the edge, the sleeve of her gown and the shirt with rolled arm and a shining drop of blood in the crook of his elbow. The robe had the flaps open and hanging askew from his shoulders, the belt was loose at the waist, as if he tried to undress without remembering to untie. The dresses below were in complete disorder, his shirt torn hem of the pants, the first buttons open until the middle of the chest and unbuttoned his pants and underwear as beneath them.

I hastened to close the door behind her, seized by an irrational fear that Mrs. Hudson Holmes could find in this state. The

Click the lock seemed to awaken from its torpor. Suddenly he opened his eyes in my direction with a movement of dry eye, not with the flickering uncertain of who awakens. He looked me from head to foot with great calm.

"Sorry."

"What, Holmes?"

"Whether you fight with your wife."

"I have not had a fight with Mary."

"O Mary had a fight with you. It's the same thing. "
" There has been no quarrel, Holmes, "I said with a hint of impatience.
"No? Yet it's Thursday. "

I thought it was the effect cocaine unreason it, so the two statements sounded inconsistent with each other. "My friend, I confess that do not follow you." "On Thursday, you and your wife, you tend to go for a walk before dinner, after you've closed the office. Yet you do not even the shadow of a clump of mud on your shoes. " " Mary went to visit a relative out of town. " " So that is another woman's blond hair on your shoulder? "Holmes I looked better without the shadow of the fun that accompanied your allegations against me. "No, your wife is at home, waiting to come back to tell her that I accepted the case. And you're angry because this time issues that you mention that you could not talk to me, and maybe invent a fanciful lie on my health. "
" I could not tell that man that are usually deep in most praise High refused to render assistance to a friend for a prey to the fumes of cocaine, "I replied, somewhat coldly.
"Why not? If the case turns out to be quite interesting, to say the whole of London. " I felt terribly insulted. "I do not know what a man judge me, Holmes, but if you really think I could ever make public disgrace I'm seeing the scene, you are mistaken. If London knew half the things I know ... "
" If your wife knew the other half "I whipped her voice.
clenched fists in a fit of anger, but disserrai them a moment later. This was Holmes, I thought, and this only the third or fifth or twentieth replica of a scene that I had seen. Holmes was no anger with anger as a summer storm, and blamed the nervousness of letting me forget. Holmes's expression softened. Clapped him on the edge of the mattress with a friendly gesture. "Sit here for a moment while the effect wears off, will you?" He said softly. "Today the numbness seemed reluctant to leave."
"How much time has passed after inoculation?" I asked, professional and personal concerns are inextricably bound together. "A couple of hours. I do not know. I was not really in me. " [info] sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed, staring straight at me and avoiding my gaze wander to other parts of his body. Even after a year, the mere thought - even before the view - of that specimen of human beauty was enough to completely undermine my ability to judge. "I really wish you could stop to hurt you in this way, Holmes. Lately it seems to me worse and worse. " " Yes, and what you can deduce, my dear Watson? "Said Holmes. "It's my fault. I know. I know it well. I know without you I remember. There is no time of day that the thought processes of torment. " " Fear not, "Holmes said, stifling a yawn. "I will not die as any opium addict in a infamous den. I do not have much respect for myself, this is true, but it's still enough to make me find the prospect repugnant. "
" Holmes, please ... "
" What, my dear? " replied with a smile opaque.

"Not to say that. "Please stop this talk at once."
"You're right, it is a bad topic of conversation," said Holmes, rubbing his fingers through his hair tiredly. "I received your telegram. The latter, in particular, is a small masterpiece. Certainly the attitude of the writer makes all the difference. "
" If you received it, "I said, ignoring his ironic provocation," then you know of my visit. If you know, because - Holmes, why did you want to see you in this state? "

" I was hoping that did not come. "He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I mean, I hoped that I was from. Do I contradict myself with irritating frequency, when it comes to you. You have a deleterious effect on my right. "

" If it's an elaborate way to arouse my guilt, Holmes, know that you do not need. "

" No, "said Holmes. "No," he repeated, opening his eyes. "I forgive you, my friend, really. I miscalculated the time. "He raised himself on one elbow, and then slowly sat up. He seemed to notice only at that state of his clothes, and sat resolutely hem of her robe on the body. I got

and I offered him my hand. Holmes accepted it, his fingers were dry and frost. Then the friendship and affection towards my friend had the better sull'irritazione and concern for the case that tormented me for some time, also leaned on his other hand and spoke to him warmly.

"I see that are not well, Holmes. Do not want to grieve with other thoughts. I'll be back at another time, if you can do me the favor to devote an hour of your time, tell me when. "

" Nonsense. I'm fine, "said Holmes, and the truth now that she was standing resembled much more the energetic investigator famous throughout London and the cocaine weakened by the effects of drugs. "Come with you in the living room and talk about whatever you want."

As we descended the stairs, I turn my second instinct was to my old room. No one knew better than me that Holmes was a man infinitely more sentimental than tolerate display. Other times, had given me a thrill to see this nice in the chest, but now I seemed to have an icy crust around the heart, impervious to heat, but not about the pain because the pain was there long before nestling inside.

"And how is Mrs. Watson," asked Holmes suddenly, without looking back. He walked resolutely to the fireplace Almost out and threw another chocolate into the fire, to rekindle the dying embers with the tip dell'attizzatoio.

Never once since I got married I had asked about my wife, but the tone was flat, without a trace of irony, so I answered politely: "Very well, thank you. He asked me to pass his greetings and remind you that this invitation to dinner has never ceased to be valid, if you ever want to accept it. "

Holmes I glanced over his shoulder. He had two dark circles around the eyes and seemed very worn, but his own master. "It would be a wonderful scene, no doubt. I wonder what conversation, your wife and me. "

"Whatever, I guess. You are both very good conversationalists. "

" and you sit in the middle, the same portrait of happiness. "

held his searching gaze, which was able - and who could know better than me? - To shake Men are much stronger and hardened than an ex-army doctor. "I do not deny that I would love if you and Mary did you go along. Did you know, you talked, you know it's an intelligent woman and spirit. "

" Too smart. If he did not know you wanted anything, you should marry a stupid woman. "

sat on the bench before the fire, sighing. "Do not drag me back to this speech, Holmes, please."

"No, certainly." Holmes picked up the pipe from the shelf and sat in a chair, stretching his legs towards the fireplace. "Tell me about this matter, and do not neglect any detail. If you're worried about the story that pushed to close the clinic with two hours notice, it must be pretty serious. "

" Holmes, how ... Really, Holmes, the only way to know a thing is me spied on. "

" On the contrary, Watson, the deduction is simpler world. I've sent Your telegram about four and a half, your study is at least fifteen minutes walk from the post office, wanting to make a rough calculation you close the study at four, rather than six as your habit. You could send someone to attend to the commission, of course, but given the personal nature of the request and the tone of the message, I would doubt it. "He smiled slightly. "And now your story, Doctor, if you do not mind."

picked up ideas for a moment. "This" debut with a bit of uncertainty due to my visit for the first time in the position of the client rather than the assistant, "Isa Whitney. Not I presume you know him. You ... "

" The brother of Elias Whitney, St. George's, yes. In my youth I became useful to his brother. Continue. "

I marveled, as always, to the extent and breadth of knowledge of Holmes. "His wife, Kate Whitney, is a childhood friend of Mary. Remember when we met in the opium den in which you were lurking in disguise? There followed the bizarre case of man from the wrong lip. "

" I remember perfectly. For a split second I wondered if I had not fallen too in the habit of seeking comfort in drugs from the joys of married life. He seemed wary of those ... I'm sorry, I stop to terminate. Continue, please. "

" I was wary

, as you say, Holmes, "I said," because Fumerie are not my usual place of attendance, and because I was trying to distinguish Whitney in the pit of men adrift of their senses. However, a week ago, Mrs. Whitney was presented at my door in tears, telling me about how her husband had disappeared again and did not return home for four days. It was not the first time Whitney was missing from home that night when we met he had been away for two days, but four? It had never happened. I therefore went to the 'Bar of Gold', find and request information about him, but told me not to see him for more than a month. These days I extended my research to a number of Fumero's Upper Swandam Lane and surrounding areas - experience which, I confess in all sincerity, I hope not to repeat too soon - but Isa Whitney did not find the slightest track. Today are ten days after his wife saw him for the last time. The disappearance was reported to the police, of course ... "

" Who is handling the case? "He asked. "Or rather, who does not

it is working?"

"Hopkins."

"Good. Continue. "

" There's not much else to say. Mrs. Whitney is afraid that her husband has been lost in some rough neighborhood and has been robbed and beaten, maybe even killed, or hit by a car while it was not in itself. The poor woman is absolutely desperate. "

Holmes pressed a finger at the lips, pondering. "A week ago, you say. Your first telegram on Monday. Why have you waited so long to call me? "

I could not tell him that after our meeting two weeks before and the resolution of the case of Miss Violet Hunter had warned him not as expensive ever, precious and irreplaceable presence in my life, and I felt my will falter with an intensity that had frightened me. I could not tell him that I was afraid to see him again, because I did not know if I would be man enough to fulfill the vows made to my wife. I could not tell him, but Holmes knew anyway.

"It was a reckless decision," he went on, mercilessly. "The only one to suffer the consequences of having your personal reasons put before the most logical way is Mr. Whitney."

"In what part of this process lies with the intention that if I had not brought by force to your home would have continued to ignore my telegrams? "

" The part where, in the last four days, I doubt of ever being polished for over half an hour later. "

I ran my hands over his face, shocked and exasperated. "But for God's sake, Holmes," I muttered into the cup of the palms.

"It is not a justification, of course," continued Holmes, expressionless. "We are both guilty of that sin, though the reasons could not be more different. Now that we know, let's move on. "

I raised my head. "What are you doing?"

"change clothes and go out. Please to wait here until I return. If you need to tell your wife that you will do later, I can get Billy available. "

I was about to offer to accompany him, but I bit my tongue. If Holmes did not need my company, obviously it could not only be useful, but might have risked compromising the investigation. So I simply respond that, by providing a development like this, I already warned my wife not to expect.

Holmes looked at me oddly, but made no comment. As he finished speaking he had already risen from his chair and is now headed for his room, chiudendovisi in for a few minutes.

When he reappeared, was again the ragged old man I met at the 'Bar of Gold' when I went for the first time to recall Isa Whitney. For the moment, still walking with his normal pose and with his usual brisk, so the effect was very weird, but I knew it would take just over the threshold curve and limping gait of the old visitor to the den.

"I presume you intend to return to the 'Bar of Gold'?"

"Exactly," said Holmes, arranging a thin, long black hair in the wig hoary.

"I doubt you'll get some information there," I said. "I'm pretty sure they did not know anything. "

" Let me doubt the goodness of your survey methods, Watson. For one thing, I am sure that you are limited to interview the managers of local and not customers. "

" How could I? Among the many merits of opium, there is no doubt to make the most lucid and helpful people who use it. "

Holmes smiled in the dark reflection of the window. "I agree with you on the clarity, but you'd be surprised to find out how much longer is a man haunted by a master of himself. Also that you put the right questions, of course. "

" Art which you are the teacher, "I replied, this time without a trace of irony.

"I have my methods," Holmes admitted. "As the saying goes? 'We need a thief to catch another'. "

We exchanged a look in the reflection of the window, and only for a moment it seemed to me to stop Holmes to be a grin of superiority and a smile become quite true, as tinged with sadness. Holmes then turned in my direction.

"A couple of hours should be sufficient, but I can not exclude that it takes more than expected. In the meantime, is' like I'm at home. "And before

I could work, be sure and wish him luck, he had vanished. Just because I tended ears to hear, I felt the sound of the back door that closes gently.

were about nine. Holmes came home before one, and I must confess not without a hint of shame that I was lying fast asleep on the couch. I had not even sold half an hour before to the fatigue of the day, which the visit had given the apartment of Baker Street, so to speak, the coup de grace. Holmes woke me gently tap his shoulder, and when I opened my eyes I found him near me, squatting on his heels. He was himself again, although not the best form of himself. I ran my hand over his face.

"Excuse me, Holmes. These days I sleep very little. "

turning the hand of a quarter turn, Holmes touched my throat with the back of the fingers. They were warm, now, and even a touch so quick enough to get me a thrill. I am sure that Holmes saw it, because his eyes are lit with a curiosity that had nothing cold or analytical, a light that I knew all too well. But it was only a moment, Holmes withdrew his hand suddenly and stood up, heading for the display of liquor.

"Have you discovered something?" I asked, sitting up.

"More than anything, for the truth. It was a moderately successful evening. "

" I'm happy to hear that. Tell me more. "

" Most of the evening has been wasted listening to babbling nonsense and delusion, but my patience finally paid off. "Towards a measure of whiskey in each glass and added a splash of soda. Handed me one and retired to his seat with the other, and for half a minute peacefully sipped his drink as if he had other concerns in life. "The man with whom I spoke to was still in his first pipe. Whitney has recognized easily, are apparently long-standing knowledge, although one ignores the other's name. So goes the knowledge of perfumery.

"Our man saw Whitney out of the 'Bar of Gold' on the night of the twenty-three or twenty-four - can not be too sure of the date - and get in a cab, alone."

"Are you sure that those who knew was talking about? "

" Absolutely certain. "

" And if he do wrong? "
" In that case we would end up with a red herring in his hand, rather than any runway. "
nodded. "At this point you will want to find that coach, I presume?"
"There time, "said Holmes. "Before we discuss another matter, of no lesser importance."
"What is it?"

"my fee."

I looked very surprised, not for what he had said, but because Holmes He had never introduced such an argument in a manner so abrupt.

"Of course, Holmes. I will be glad that I will pay the expense. "

" I suppose you'd say that. "

" It's the least I can do. The Whitney does not pay the best conditions. "

" Good. Lucky for you the price is exceptionally reasonable, Watson, and consists of a night. "

" A ... "

" One night. Tonight. Stay with me tonight and tomorrow night at the latest Mrs. Whitney will regain her husband - dead or alive, this is not in my power to tell. "

I could not believe my ears. Holmes looked at me with inscrutable expression.

"Of all the things of questionable taste that I've heard in my life, Holmes, this is the most worthless" I said, his voice trembling with anger maltrattenuta. "The most shameful and most outrageous. I'm not a dog ...

running to crouch at your feet when you call! "

Un angolo della bocca di Holmes si incurvò in un sorriso sardonico. “Davvero? Quant’è curioso, allora, che tu mi debba trattare in questa precisa maniera, dottore.” Si alzò dalla poltrona, abbandonando il bicchiere sulla mensola del camino, e in un istante lo vidi incombere sopra di me, più alto e magro che mai, il fuoco alle spalle e il volto in ombra. “Quant’è curioso che tu debba ricordarti di me quando ti fa più comodo.”

“Ti ho chiesto aiuto per una persona che rischia la vita!”

“Non è a questo che mi riferisco.”

Distolsi gli occhi per un istante. Sapevo a cosa si riferiva, e fin da quando I had set foot in the apartment I knew that sooner or later the conversation would take place. It was inevitable. "It happened once, Holmes."

"So much of the phenomena we observe, including the unique, unrepeatable act of conception that raised you or me. The uniqueness does not make it any less serious consequences, if you can forgive the bad pun. "

" Holmes ... "

" I told you once to meditate on what you were agreeing to. I told you ... "

" Can you hear me, please? "

" ... I told you that my life was completely in your hands. You thought it was a metaphor, Doc? Or to say it just to maintain a pleasant exchange of courtesies? But how do you expect me to ... "

" I had to do it. Holmes. I had

. "I looked into his eyes, but I found an ounce of pity. "We were killing each other."

"What you mean," said Holmes, cold, "is that

I was killing you with my idiosyncratic, with my lack of any form of romance or respect to your limits with my authoritarian ways, with my coolness. So please, for 'what you say and spare me the turns of phrase. "

" No. No. "I jumped up, taking his hand. "None of this would have pushed me ... I could not. If that were the case, our friendship would have ended many years ago. "

" So explained better, Watson, because I have no idea what you're talking about, "said Holmes.

"I'm talking about," I said, without ever lowering his gaze, "the way we hurt while the other, and the disastrous influence he had on our lives. I'm talking about that time in Kent, where the lack of clarity necessary made you lose the right path that would lead you to the murderer of Mr. Meddlicott. I'm talking about the bullet that missed me by a whisker the temple, because I was too distracted to care since our last fight to live or die. "The hands rested on either side of the neck, and Holmes tried to wriggle like a horse reluctant to bite, but I held him tight. "I was a coward, Holmes, and you have every reason to hate me. If you prefer, we shall not see again. But I do not regret what I did, because I had no other choice. "

" Parliament. Parliament would be the right choice. "

" I'd heard. "

" When ever I refused to listen to rational discourse? "

"Every time I made you comfortable."

's thought that both flew to his terrible habit of cocaine, who was eating every day. Holmes made a face.

"You're lying, Watson," he said softly, as if a touch so closely the same energy draining. "I do not know why you do you're taking the trouble, but it is so, and as sure God does not make you honor."

That was when, if ever proof were needed, gave further proof of my cowardice: the sinking fingers through the tufts short and thin over the curve of the ear and kissed him, a betrayal. I loved him, I wanted more than anything in the world, but I did it simply because I could not bear having to listen or say another word.

Holmes gave a guttural sound, like the cry of a wounded animal, and in a moment his hands were in my hair and the distance between our bodies does not exist. I borrow an expression so dear to modern literature sentimental when I say that I kissed her as if she were to die tomorrow, with a strength and desperation that I had not known, but I still stunned by the intensity of an avalanche. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Holmes leaned over me in appearance, not attempt to join every available portion of the reciprocal skin, and claimed the possession of my mouth as something long lost.

When we parted for breath, I caught a flash of her cheeks flushed before Holmes Tilt your head and sink voluptuously in the crook of my neck, running his lips on the soft flesh just below the ear lobe in a delicious caress .

"Stay," he whispered, his voice slightly hoarse, taking a small piece of meat between your teeth.

This had the power to wake up in the frenzy that I had fallen, and with an effort that seemed to me the immense rested his hands on his chest and walked away from me resolutely.

"I must go home," said unsteady voice. With this

quickly picked up his jacket and walked out without looking. Holmes, mercifully, it stopped me. If he did, I am sure that my will would have crumbled like clay mixed evil and would have stayed with him that night and all the other nights of my life.



Part 2