FIC: HOLMES/WATSON (6 of 12)
Title: Uncharted
Rating: NC-17 (for later chapters)
Warning: Fluffy smut.
Beta: anoncomment7
Summary: The thought of loving a man more than startles Watson. Holmes leads the way.
Previous: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Chapter Six:
--Two weeks, three days later--
John Watson and Mary Morstan ambled arm in arm along the street on a bright Thursday afternoon, talking quietly in the midst of the moderate crowd. They acknowledged those they made eye contact with, greeting other honorable couples and citizens of London with a humble dignity that was often reflected back to them.
Watson breathed deeply, enjoying the air of the afternoon. He always took pleasure in their walks together, out in the open, chatting about matters ranging from the positively crucial to the utterly trivial. This sort of activity never failed to bring him back to that comforting feeling of being a part of society, of a picture far grander than himself.
He pulled out of his daze to concentrate on his betrothed and her words on being a governess.
“…only took a few minutes of the entire lesson to get the youngest back into good sorts,” Mary continued, “which was perfectly understandable, given the nature of her brother’s comment on her fascination with the boy who lives across the street. I thought nothing of it until Mrs. Rutherford returned from her brunch. Once she was told of the incident, she pulled me aside for a ten minute lecture on the importance of time management and keeping an orderly classroom in the home. I had to refrain from pointing out that her lecture had lasted longer than the issue itself.” Her tone took on a playful edge. “I would never voice such opinions to a public audience, but it is often the parents who require more energy than the children.”
“That kind of observation is expected, given the identity of your employer,” Watson said with a faint grin.
She couldn’t help but smile with him. “You mustn’t make such comments of the wealthy if we are to be among them soon.”
“I’d be considerably more forgiving if they allowed you more than fifteen minutes to walk with your fiancé.”
“I’m simply grateful my fiancé has the fifteen minutes to spare. Building a medical practice is quite the time consuming effort, or has been as of late.”
Watson leaned a little more weight on his cane as they walked. “Time consuming?”
“Surely you’ve noticed that your presence has been ghostly more than a few evenings in recent memory?” Mary teased, warmth in her voice.
Flashes of those certain evenings flickered through Watson’s mind and he felt his throat tighten. “Finding a proper location to rent at this time of year is not a task I’d wish on any doctor.”
“Are there any decent prospects?” she asked.
Holmes pressing against him, breathing shallow.
“There could be,” Watson replied, quietly clearing his throat.
Mary nodded politely to a woman passing by. “I hope you can at least make a verbal agreement before the wedding. It would be ideal to come back from the honeymoon with your own practice waiting for you take charge.”
Muscles flexing beneath ruffled clothing.
“Perhaps I should tell landlords that I’m to be wed,” he joked absently. “Surely then they’ll understand the importance of my venture.”
“Those who are married will indeed,” she quipped with a light laugh.
Moaning, teasing, clutching.
Watson felt urgent relief wash over him as he looked up to find they had arrived at the Rutherford’s lavish doorstep. They came to a slow stop and Mary turned to face him, unhooking their arms. As she looked up at him with adoring eyes, he realized she was waiting to be asked for her time later in the day.
His lie had not been planned, yet it came readily. “I’m having dinner with a man who may have a lead on a vacant office. May I call on you tomorrow?”
“Certainly,” she agreed, only letting her disappointment show for a moment.
He nodded, took her hand, and placed a chaste kiss across her knuckles.
Rough mouths capturing each other as hands entwine.
Flinching before he could stop himself, panic bolted through him and he released Mary’s hand, straightening up as casually as he could manage. If she were to question him about his peculiar reaction, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer. To his great relief, she looked perfectly content, which meant the movement must have been too small for her to register.
They bid a fond farewell, and then Mary turned and went inside.
Now free to be alone with his thoughts, Watson’s memories of the past fortnight ran rampant. His insides twisted to think that pictures so contemptible had plagued him while in the presence of Mary, the one innocent player in all of this. He had told himself that all this deception was to buy time until he could figure out what action he planned to take, but now the wedding date was swiftly approaching, the number of lies was doubling almost by the day, and he was still lost as to what exactly was happening to him.
But Mary was only part of the problem.
Watson made his way down the street, almost afraid to get too close to people should they somehow pick up the blasphemous images that were bearing down on him. Even though he had realized that whatever drew him to Holmes must be part of his nature, it changed nothing about the laws of the country, or the universal truths that he had been raised to believe. This was still abhorrent, still reviled to the point of blind disgust.
At the very least, Watson found solace in the fact that the encounters with Holmes had not escalated. Although, he couldn’t deny that certain aspects were…intensifying. Movements had become more forceful, contact more insisting. Something in the back of his mind knew why this was, but he kept pushing it away, fearful of the answer he might uncover even though he was desperate to know what is was. He was headed in a direction that felt both inherently right and wrong at the same time, bringing about a reluctant alacrity in him that was even more confounding than the oxymoronic phrase implied.
All Watson knew for certain was that there was a next step hanging over him, and it required pursuit, however small or big the move might be.
Rating: NC-17 (for later chapters)
Warning: Fluffy smut.
Beta: anoncomment7
Summary: The thought of loving a man more than startles Watson. Holmes leads the way.
Previous: Chapter 1 , Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5
Chapter Six:
--Two weeks, three days later--
John Watson and Mary Morstan ambled arm in arm along the street on a bright Thursday afternoon, talking quietly in the midst of the moderate crowd. They acknowledged those they made eye contact with, greeting other honorable couples and citizens of London with a humble dignity that was often reflected back to them.
Watson breathed deeply, enjoying the air of the afternoon. He always took pleasure in their walks together, out in the open, chatting about matters ranging from the positively crucial to the utterly trivial. This sort of activity never failed to bring him back to that comforting feeling of being a part of society, of a picture far grander than himself.
He pulled out of his daze to concentrate on his betrothed and her words on being a governess.
“…only took a few minutes of the entire lesson to get the youngest back into good sorts,” Mary continued, “which was perfectly understandable, given the nature of her brother’s comment on her fascination with the boy who lives across the street. I thought nothing of it until Mrs. Rutherford returned from her brunch. Once she was told of the incident, she pulled me aside for a ten minute lecture on the importance of time management and keeping an orderly classroom in the home. I had to refrain from pointing out that her lecture had lasted longer than the issue itself.” Her tone took on a playful edge. “I would never voice such opinions to a public audience, but it is often the parents who require more energy than the children.”
“That kind of observation is expected, given the identity of your employer,” Watson said with a faint grin.
She couldn’t help but smile with him. “You mustn’t make such comments of the wealthy if we are to be among them soon.”
“I’d be considerably more forgiving if they allowed you more than fifteen minutes to walk with your fiancé.”
“I’m simply grateful my fiancé has the fifteen minutes to spare. Building a medical practice is quite the time consuming effort, or has been as of late.”
Watson leaned a little more weight on his cane as they walked. “Time consuming?”
“Surely you’ve noticed that your presence has been ghostly more than a few evenings in recent memory?” Mary teased, warmth in her voice.
Flashes of those certain evenings flickered through Watson’s mind and he felt his throat tighten. “Finding a proper location to rent at this time of year is not a task I’d wish on any doctor.”
“Are there any decent prospects?” she asked.
Holmes pressing against him, breathing shallow.
“There could be,” Watson replied, quietly clearing his throat.
Mary nodded politely to a woman passing by. “I hope you can at least make a verbal agreement before the wedding. It would be ideal to come back from the honeymoon with your own practice waiting for you take charge.”
Muscles flexing beneath ruffled clothing.
“Perhaps I should tell landlords that I’m to be wed,” he joked absently. “Surely then they’ll understand the importance of my venture.”
“Those who are married will indeed,” she quipped with a light laugh.
Moaning, teasing, clutching.
Watson felt urgent relief wash over him as he looked up to find they had arrived at the Rutherford’s lavish doorstep. They came to a slow stop and Mary turned to face him, unhooking their arms. As she looked up at him with adoring eyes, he realized she was waiting to be asked for her time later in the day.
His lie had not been planned, yet it came readily. “I’m having dinner with a man who may have a lead on a vacant office. May I call on you tomorrow?”
“Certainly,” she agreed, only letting her disappointment show for a moment.
He nodded, took her hand, and placed a chaste kiss across her knuckles.
Rough mouths capturing each other as hands entwine.
Flinching before he could stop himself, panic bolted through him and he released Mary’s hand, straightening up as casually as he could manage. If she were to question him about his peculiar reaction, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to answer. To his great relief, she looked perfectly content, which meant the movement must have been too small for her to register.
They bid a fond farewell, and then Mary turned and went inside.
Now free to be alone with his thoughts, Watson’s memories of the past fortnight ran rampant. His insides twisted to think that pictures so contemptible had plagued him while in the presence of Mary, the one innocent player in all of this. He had told himself that all this deception was to buy time until he could figure out what action he planned to take, but now the wedding date was swiftly approaching, the number of lies was doubling almost by the day, and he was still lost as to what exactly was happening to him.
But Mary was only part of the problem.
Watson made his way down the street, almost afraid to get too close to people should they somehow pick up the blasphemous images that were bearing down on him. Even though he had realized that whatever drew him to Holmes must be part of his nature, it changed nothing about the laws of the country, or the universal truths that he had been raised to believe. This was still abhorrent, still reviled to the point of blind disgust.
At the very least, Watson found solace in the fact that the encounters with Holmes had not escalated. Although, he couldn’t deny that certain aspects were…intensifying. Movements had become more forceful, contact more insisting. Something in the back of his mind knew why this was, but he kept pushing it away, fearful of the answer he might uncover even though he was desperate to know what is was. He was headed in a direction that felt both inherently right and wrong at the same time, bringing about a reluctant alacrity in him that was even more confounding than the oxymoronic phrase implied.
All Watson knew for certain was that there was a next step hanging over him, and it required pursuit, however small or big the move might be.