fic for methylviolet10b: My Dear Watson
Title: My Dear Watson
Recipient: methylviolet10b
Author: knowmefirst
Characters/Pairings: pre-slash-Holmes/WatsonRating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Warnings: mild violence, AU, and mild OOC.
Summary: Sometimes love is there all along, but we all need a little bit of push in the most difficult times to see it clearly.
Notes: Dear methylviolet10b , I hope you like it, it has been a long time since I wrote something for this verse and honestly I had so much fun. Also, a big thank you to S for the last minute beta. Thank you, hon. I really appreciate you helping me so last minute. All other errors are all mine.
Also on AO3: "My Dear Watson"
Many people believed that Holmes and Dr. Watson have known each other for most of their lives, but that wasn’t the truth. He had only met the man the day Watson inquired about the room for rent next to his. Now a few years later, Watson was his friend-it was not like he had many, Watson was, after all, the only one Holmes had-his sidekick, and if he was honest, the best person to be at his side when the times became a little bit difficult. Which was all the time, if what Watson said was true, which Holmes was sure he wasn’t. Yes, trouble did follow him, but it wasn’t his fault that he was such a genius and could solve the hardest cases that Inspector Lestrade had available.
If they put him in danger, then it was no one’s fault and especially not his. If Watson should blame someone, then in Holmes’ opinion, it should be Lestrade himself. Of course, Holmes refused to count the slaps he had gotten from women for telling them the truth. For example, how would he had known that the man that Mrs. Beckett had been seen kissing the other day wasn’t her husband? That right there was another thing that Watson had said he had known, and that Holmes had just hated the woman from the day that she had thrown that bucket of water at them.
He pointed at Watson, and smiling, said, “You can’t prove it.” He had only gotten a roll of eyes from Watson. Holmes could fool anyone but his dear Watson.
Now here they were, side by side, hiding behind a brick wall, waiting for the perfect opportunity to go inside and find any clue of the missing women that had been disappearing around London. The case had confused Scotland Yard, but it had been easy for Holmes to crack-Okay, fine it hadn’t been as easy as he wished, but it had been to a point easier than for the Inspector. Hopefully, Lestrade had gotten their message about where they were going and would be on time to get them out of a tight situation.
Watson brought him out of his musings by touching his shoulder. Watson indicated that he was going first and that Holmes should wait for his signal. Holmes nodded, and watch as Watson ran towards the nearest building, but before Watson had taken complete cover, Holmes saw the prefect opportunity and was already sprinting across the empty yard.
Before he got to cover he heard the gun shots and threw himself behind a brick building. There was a window above him in the wall, and he carefully push himself up to see over it, but what he saw was Watson glaring back at him. He only smiled and ducked back down again. After a minute he felt Watson slide next to him, with his gun still out.
“Didn’t I tell you to wait? Dammit, don’t you ever listen?” Watson hissed, looking around them.
“I saw the opportunity and took it,” Holmes said, taking in everything around them, trying to find a way out.
“Opportunity? What opportunity? They shot at you.” Watson snapped, still glaring.
“Well, it was there,” he said in his defense.
When Watson didn’t say anything, Holmes turned back to continue to look around. That’s when he spotted the men making their way and looking around the yard, probably looking for him. He elbowed Watson and indicated the men, and heard a murmured curse. After a while they decided that they must enter the building sooner than they wanted to. For that, they would need to use the window above them. There were, of course, a few dangers: they could be spotted even before they could make it all the way in, which of course would lead to being shot at.
But then again, it wouldn’t feel like a great ending to the case if there wasn’t danger involved. They waited for the perfect moment, until most of the men were turned away, and made their move as quickly as they could. They jumped through the window, falling onto the floor. Well, Holmes hadn’t fallen on the floor directly, he had been lucky (if he said so himself) and fallen on top of Watson. Who, at receiving the full impact of Holmes’ body, groaned in pain, and then pushed him off.
This time it was Holmes who gave a groan of pain, when he fell suddenly into the floor, landing on a piece of broken brick. Watson ignored him and his pain, too busy looking around to see if someone had seen them. Holmes moved closer to him and groaned again, getting the same results. He gave a sigh. What did a person have to do to get some compassion? Especially him, he sometimes felt as if Watson didn’t care about his comfort. Well, now that Holmes thought about it, Watson didn’t. That time that Watson opened the curtain and let the sun come in: if Holmes had been a vampire he could have melted-do vampires melt? For that matter, where there even vampires? He shook his head, and got back to the present.
“You know that did hurt,” he quietly voiced his displeasure.
He closed his mouth when all he got was a glower from Watson to tell him to shut up, and an indication to follow him. They moved quietly around the warehouse, hiding every time they spotted men walking by. They finally made their way to the back of the building, they were a few steps away from the wooden door that would hopefully take them down to a cellar and to the missing women.
They were about to make their move, when they saw the boss of the gang walking towards the wooden door. They moved back and hid in the shadows, waiting and hoping that the gang-boss would stop before he spotted them. Watson gripped his gun tighter as he prepared to jump and tackle the man to the floor. However, before they could sprint forward, the man was hailed by one of his goons. The goon indicated something to their left-thankfully, away from them--making the men move away. They gave a silent sigh and let their bodies go limp against the boxes behind them. That had been too close for comfort.
They nodded at the same time and sprinted forward; there wasn’t going to be a better moment than now to make their move. They quietly and quickly opened the door and slipped inside and into the darkness. Holmes patted his pockets, trying to find a lighter, but before he found anything useful the light from a lamp was seen coming their way. They stood frozen and even though he couldn’t see anything, he knew that Watson was looking at him to see what he was going to do. Holmes touched Watson’s hand, and wrapping his fingers around it, pulled him slowly down the stairs. Still with his hand wrapped around Watson’s, Holmes started tapping a rhythm. He repeated it until he felt Watson nod, letting him know that he had gotten the message.
It wasn’t long before they could jump at the unsuspecting man and wrestle him to the floor, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. Watson hit the man over the head with the butt of his pistol, rendering him unconscious. They got up and Holmes picked up the fallen lamp. Thankfully, it hadn’t broken during the struggle. Better yet, no one had come to investigate the noise. They made their way down the empty corridor after they had hidden the body in a shadowy corner: hopefully no one would find him until they were out of here. The first door they came upon was locked, but something that wasn’t a problem for them. They opened it and found an office, probably the one used for the legit business upstairs.
If Holmes had the time he would find the hidden compartment with all the documents indicating what exactly they were doing with all the women they were abducting and where they were being sent. However, it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what they required of the women and why they were going missing. They closed the door and continued down. They came upon two more rooms being used as storage: on closer inspection it was easy to see that they were transporting opium. After a while and many rooms later, Holmes was thinking that they had gotten the wrong warehouse. Then he noticed a trap door very well hidden underneath a dirty rug; he probably would have missed it, if it hadn’t been recently moved. He stopped Watson and indicated the rug. Getting a nod from Watson, he bent down and moved the rug to the side. He picked the lock while Watson stood above him with his gun out, keeping a look-out.
Holmes winced when the hinges squeaked, and together they moved down the wooden stairs. They waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim light of the room, and there before their eyes they saw barred doors, and before they could even see the women, they heard their whimpers. Holmes saw a lamp by a barrel, and with a bit of maneuvering, they were able to light it. They separated to see inside each room, finding that some of them held between three to four women each. With time running out, they started picking the locks, until all doors where open. They quieted the women down and told them that they worked for Scotland Yard and they were there to get them out.
They indicated to the women that they should follow them. Watson was the first out of the trap door, followed by Holmes. Once they made sure the corridors where empty, they indicated for the women to come out as quietly as they could. They moved slowly down the corridors, until they stood at the foot of the stairs they had come in from. They were about to ascend when they heard voices outside. They looked at each other and at the scared face of the women behind them, then blew the lamps out and told the women to hide. Holmes’ foot came in contact with the unconscious man still hidden away, and he decided to see if the man was carrying a gun. He patted the man, and made a sound of triumph at finding the gun hidden inside the coat pocket. He moved closer to Watson as the other still watched the door. Holmes showed him the gun and smiled, making the other smile and shake his head, too.
Holmes leaned closer to Watson and asked, “Do you think Lestrade will come on time?”
Watson stood quietly for a bit, then said, “I really hope so.”
They quieted down when they heard voices again getting closer and closer. They both gripped their guns harder. They looked at each other: it wasn’t going to be the first time they were together in such a difficult spot, but it was the first time they were going to be the first line of defense, and it was a possibility that Lestrade wasn’t going to make it on time.
“It has been a pleasure working with you, Mr. Holmes.” Watson whispered, looking at him in the dim light that was visible underneath the door.
“And it has been a pleasure having you by my side, my dear Watson,” Holmes said, and slowly slid his hand down until he could take Watson’s hand.
He was going to let it go, when he felt the other squeeze his in return. They turned back when they heard the door handle turn, and shushed the women when some of them started to whimper. Together, as in complete harmony, they raised their guns and pointed them at the door. They were going to take as many as they could. The door was opening and the light was flooding in; in a few more seconds, the light would illuminate them, giving them away. However, before they could pull their triggers they heard distant gun shots. They quickly look at each other and whispered at the same time.
“Lestrade.”
They lowered their guns.
It might have been mere minutes, but it felt more like hours before it was completely quiet, no more screaming. Suddenly, the door was yanked open. Together, they raised their guns and aimed.
They smiled when they saw the figure of Lestrade standing at the open door and smiling down at them.
“Late as always, Lestrade,” Holmes said.
Holmes moved away from the light and told the women that they could come out and slowly all of them made it out of the cellar. After a while of being in the dark, the light was hard on their eyes; Holmes couldn’t even image how it must be for the women who had been there weeks.
“Well, I got here as soon as I could,” Lestrade said, as he indicated for some of his men to help the women and others to gather the criminals.
“Don’t listen to him, Lestrade. As for me, I’m happy to see you.” Watson said smiling.
After a while they were able to leave. They slowly made their way down the street until they could hail a cab. Sitting down inside they were quiet for a minute until Watson broke the silence.
“What exactly was that, Mr. Holmes?” Watson asked.
“What was what?” he said, looking over at Watson.
“This-” Watson broke off to take hold of Holmes’ hand.
However, this time, instead of holding Holmes’ gloved hand in his own gloved hand, Watson slowly removed both their gloves. For the first time, they touched without gloves coming in between. Holmes watched as their hands came in contact, and that touch alone was more exotic than any touch any prostitute had ever given him.
Gently, Holmes let his fingers wrap around Watson’s, and turned to him. “Anything you wish it to be, my dear Watson,” he said. He leaned forward, until there were a few inches between their lips. “Anything you wish.”
Watson watched him for a few more seconds. Finding whatever he had been searching for, Watson closed the small gap that was separating them. While they were lost in the kiss and the new feelings of blossoming love, outside the cab, London and its people continued with their normal hustle and bustle, unaware of the couple currently kissing inside one of the many black cabs around London.
Recipient: methylviolet10b
Author: knowmefirst
Characters/Pairings: pre-slash-Holmes/WatsonRating: PG-13 (to be safe)
Warnings: mild violence, AU, and mild OOC.
Summary: Sometimes love is there all along, but we all need a little bit of push in the most difficult times to see it clearly.
Notes: Dear methylviolet10b , I hope you like it, it has been a long time since I wrote something for this verse and honestly I had so much fun. Also, a big thank you to S for the last minute beta. Thank you, hon. I really appreciate you helping me so last minute. All other errors are all mine.
Also on AO3: "My Dear Watson"
Many people believed that Holmes and Dr. Watson have known each other for most of their lives, but that wasn’t the truth. He had only met the man the day Watson inquired about the room for rent next to his. Now a few years later, Watson was his friend-it was not like he had many, Watson was, after all, the only one Holmes had-his sidekick, and if he was honest, the best person to be at his side when the times became a little bit difficult. Which was all the time, if what Watson said was true, which Holmes was sure he wasn’t. Yes, trouble did follow him, but it wasn’t his fault that he was such a genius and could solve the hardest cases that Inspector Lestrade had available.
If they put him in danger, then it was no one’s fault and especially not his. If Watson should blame someone, then in Holmes’ opinion, it should be Lestrade himself. Of course, Holmes refused to count the slaps he had gotten from women for telling them the truth. For example, how would he had known that the man that Mrs. Beckett had been seen kissing the other day wasn’t her husband? That right there was another thing that Watson had said he had known, and that Holmes had just hated the woman from the day that she had thrown that bucket of water at them.
He pointed at Watson, and smiling, said, “You can’t prove it.” He had only gotten a roll of eyes from Watson. Holmes could fool anyone but his dear Watson.
Now here they were, side by side, hiding behind a brick wall, waiting for the perfect opportunity to go inside and find any clue of the missing women that had been disappearing around London. The case had confused Scotland Yard, but it had been easy for Holmes to crack-Okay, fine it hadn’t been as easy as he wished, but it had been to a point easier than for the Inspector. Hopefully, Lestrade had gotten their message about where they were going and would be on time to get them out of a tight situation.
Watson brought him out of his musings by touching his shoulder. Watson indicated that he was going first and that Holmes should wait for his signal. Holmes nodded, and watch as Watson ran towards the nearest building, but before Watson had taken complete cover, Holmes saw the prefect opportunity and was already sprinting across the empty yard.
Before he got to cover he heard the gun shots and threw himself behind a brick building. There was a window above him in the wall, and he carefully push himself up to see over it, but what he saw was Watson glaring back at him. He only smiled and ducked back down again. After a minute he felt Watson slide next to him, with his gun still out.
“Didn’t I tell you to wait? Dammit, don’t you ever listen?” Watson hissed, looking around them.
“I saw the opportunity and took it,” Holmes said, taking in everything around them, trying to find a way out.
“Opportunity? What opportunity? They shot at you.” Watson snapped, still glaring.
“Well, it was there,” he said in his defense.
When Watson didn’t say anything, Holmes turned back to continue to look around. That’s when he spotted the men making their way and looking around the yard, probably looking for him. He elbowed Watson and indicated the men, and heard a murmured curse. After a while they decided that they must enter the building sooner than they wanted to. For that, they would need to use the window above them. There were, of course, a few dangers: they could be spotted even before they could make it all the way in, which of course would lead to being shot at.
But then again, it wouldn’t feel like a great ending to the case if there wasn’t danger involved. They waited for the perfect moment, until most of the men were turned away, and made their move as quickly as they could. They jumped through the window, falling onto the floor. Well, Holmes hadn’t fallen on the floor directly, he had been lucky (if he said so himself) and fallen on top of Watson. Who, at receiving the full impact of Holmes’ body, groaned in pain, and then pushed him off.
This time it was Holmes who gave a groan of pain, when he fell suddenly into the floor, landing on a piece of broken brick. Watson ignored him and his pain, too busy looking around to see if someone had seen them. Holmes moved closer to him and groaned again, getting the same results. He gave a sigh. What did a person have to do to get some compassion? Especially him, he sometimes felt as if Watson didn’t care about his comfort. Well, now that Holmes thought about it, Watson didn’t. That time that Watson opened the curtain and let the sun come in: if Holmes had been a vampire he could have melted-do vampires melt? For that matter, where there even vampires? He shook his head, and got back to the present.
“You know that did hurt,” he quietly voiced his displeasure.
He closed his mouth when all he got was a glower from Watson to tell him to shut up, and an indication to follow him. They moved quietly around the warehouse, hiding every time they spotted men walking by. They finally made their way to the back of the building, they were a few steps away from the wooden door that would hopefully take them down to a cellar and to the missing women.
They were about to make their move, when they saw the boss of the gang walking towards the wooden door. They moved back and hid in the shadows, waiting and hoping that the gang-boss would stop before he spotted them. Watson gripped his gun tighter as he prepared to jump and tackle the man to the floor. However, before they could sprint forward, the man was hailed by one of his goons. The goon indicated something to their left-thankfully, away from them--making the men move away. They gave a silent sigh and let their bodies go limp against the boxes behind them. That had been too close for comfort.
They nodded at the same time and sprinted forward; there wasn’t going to be a better moment than now to make their move. They quietly and quickly opened the door and slipped inside and into the darkness. Holmes patted his pockets, trying to find a lighter, but before he found anything useful the light from a lamp was seen coming their way. They stood frozen and even though he couldn’t see anything, he knew that Watson was looking at him to see what he was going to do. Holmes touched Watson’s hand, and wrapping his fingers around it, pulled him slowly down the stairs. Still with his hand wrapped around Watson’s, Holmes started tapping a rhythm. He repeated it until he felt Watson nod, letting him know that he had gotten the message.
It wasn’t long before they could jump at the unsuspecting man and wrestle him to the floor, covering his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. Watson hit the man over the head with the butt of his pistol, rendering him unconscious. They got up and Holmes picked up the fallen lamp. Thankfully, it hadn’t broken during the struggle. Better yet, no one had come to investigate the noise. They made their way down the empty corridor after they had hidden the body in a shadowy corner: hopefully no one would find him until they were out of here. The first door they came upon was locked, but something that wasn’t a problem for them. They opened it and found an office, probably the one used for the legit business upstairs.
If Holmes had the time he would find the hidden compartment with all the documents indicating what exactly they were doing with all the women they were abducting and where they were being sent. However, it didn’t take a genius to know exactly what they required of the women and why they were going missing. They closed the door and continued down. They came upon two more rooms being used as storage: on closer inspection it was easy to see that they were transporting opium. After a while and many rooms later, Holmes was thinking that they had gotten the wrong warehouse. Then he noticed a trap door very well hidden underneath a dirty rug; he probably would have missed it, if it hadn’t been recently moved. He stopped Watson and indicated the rug. Getting a nod from Watson, he bent down and moved the rug to the side. He picked the lock while Watson stood above him with his gun out, keeping a look-out.
Holmes winced when the hinges squeaked, and together they moved down the wooden stairs. They waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim light of the room, and there before their eyes they saw barred doors, and before they could even see the women, they heard their whimpers. Holmes saw a lamp by a barrel, and with a bit of maneuvering, they were able to light it. They separated to see inside each room, finding that some of them held between three to four women each. With time running out, they started picking the locks, until all doors where open. They quieted the women down and told them that they worked for Scotland Yard and they were there to get them out.
They indicated to the women that they should follow them. Watson was the first out of the trap door, followed by Holmes. Once they made sure the corridors where empty, they indicated for the women to come out as quietly as they could. They moved slowly down the corridors, until they stood at the foot of the stairs they had come in from. They were about to ascend when they heard voices outside. They looked at each other and at the scared face of the women behind them, then blew the lamps out and told the women to hide. Holmes’ foot came in contact with the unconscious man still hidden away, and he decided to see if the man was carrying a gun. He patted the man, and made a sound of triumph at finding the gun hidden inside the coat pocket. He moved closer to Watson as the other still watched the door. Holmes showed him the gun and smiled, making the other smile and shake his head, too.
Holmes leaned closer to Watson and asked, “Do you think Lestrade will come on time?”
Watson stood quietly for a bit, then said, “I really hope so.”
They quieted down when they heard voices again getting closer and closer. They both gripped their guns harder. They looked at each other: it wasn’t going to be the first time they were together in such a difficult spot, but it was the first time they were going to be the first line of defense, and it was a possibility that Lestrade wasn’t going to make it on time.
“It has been a pleasure working with you, Mr. Holmes.” Watson whispered, looking at him in the dim light that was visible underneath the door.
“And it has been a pleasure having you by my side, my dear Watson,” Holmes said, and slowly slid his hand down until he could take Watson’s hand.
He was going to let it go, when he felt the other squeeze his in return. They turned back when they heard the door handle turn, and shushed the women when some of them started to whimper. Together, as in complete harmony, they raised their guns and pointed them at the door. They were going to take as many as they could. The door was opening and the light was flooding in; in a few more seconds, the light would illuminate them, giving them away. However, before they could pull their triggers they heard distant gun shots. They quickly look at each other and whispered at the same time.
“Lestrade.”
They lowered their guns.
It might have been mere minutes, but it felt more like hours before it was completely quiet, no more screaming. Suddenly, the door was yanked open. Together, they raised their guns and aimed.
They smiled when they saw the figure of Lestrade standing at the open door and smiling down at them.
“Late as always, Lestrade,” Holmes said.
Holmes moved away from the light and told the women that they could come out and slowly all of them made it out of the cellar. After a while of being in the dark, the light was hard on their eyes; Holmes couldn’t even image how it must be for the women who had been there weeks.
“Well, I got here as soon as I could,” Lestrade said, as he indicated for some of his men to help the women and others to gather the criminals.
“Don’t listen to him, Lestrade. As for me, I’m happy to see you.” Watson said smiling.
After a while they were able to leave. They slowly made their way down the street until they could hail a cab. Sitting down inside they were quiet for a minute until Watson broke the silence.
“What exactly was that, Mr. Holmes?” Watson asked.
“What was what?” he said, looking over at Watson.
“This-” Watson broke off to take hold of Holmes’ hand.
However, this time, instead of holding Holmes’ gloved hand in his own gloved hand, Watson slowly removed both their gloves. For the first time, they touched without gloves coming in between. Holmes watched as their hands came in contact, and that touch alone was more exotic than any touch any prostitute had ever given him.
Gently, Holmes let his fingers wrap around Watson’s, and turned to him. “Anything you wish it to be, my dear Watson,” he said. He leaned forward, until there were a few inches between their lips. “Anything you wish.”
Watson watched him for a few more seconds. Finding whatever he had been searching for, Watson closed the small gap that was separating them. While they were lost in the kiss and the new feelings of blossoming love, outside the cab, London and its people continued with their normal hustle and bustle, unaware of the couple currently kissing inside one of the many black cabs around London.