Fic for muted_clamour: A Scandal at Sea
Title: A Scandal at Sea
Recipient: muted_clamour
Author: blighted_garden
Characters/Pairings: Holmes/Watson
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mild violence, AU
Summary: When Holmes and Watson are called into Admiral Lestrade's quarters, they soon find themselves confronting the ocean as well as their own desires.
Notes: Thank you to hollyxu for the beta. I hope that you enjoy, muted_clamour!
A Scandal at Sea
My life had started out as a simple existence, but there was one event that led me off-course from a traditional lifestyle. As a young adult I had served for several years as a surgeon on the decks of British merchant ships, inspecting countless cases of scurvy and busted belly. It had been on most days, to say the least, a rather insipid profession, but it had enabled me to visit foreign shores whilst not having to concern myself with the maintenance of my own practice. Although my crew and I had encountered occasional troubles with runaway ships attempting to rob us of not only our cargo but also portions of the ship itself, the seas were, on any habitual day, calm. As trade with India became increasingly prevalent, with fleets now being made of more modern, steam-powered, flight-worthy vessels, my day-to-day life had become exhilarating. Although the ships could run at rapid speeds and within their decks lay a greater variety of conveniences, their hulls were no sturdier than those of the earlier vessels. The enticement of the luxury present within their walls made them the sought-after target of pirate vessels. In one particularly difficult battle I had seriously injured my leg, and it is only due to the hydraulic system implanted within my limb that I am able to function once again as normal, part metal gears instead of muscle.
It was on a voyage back from the region of Bengal that a strange occurrence transpired. I had been sitting in my quarters, there being few patients in the infirmary and none of them urgent cases. I was becoming increasingly aware of the growing bustle above deck. From the few cries that I could comprehend, it seemed as though there was an approaching vessel. Fearing the worst, I set aside my papers and armed myself with an aether gun, although it would clearly do little good even in case of boarding. It was shortly after that the cries from above deck grew urgent and I heard a growing activity below deck in the galley. Moments later I was deafened by the sound of a blast, stemming not from our own artillery but from the guns of another vessel, landing a blow that caused the entire ship to shake.
From the sound of it there had only been one or two shots at most. I waited for a moment, and soon there was answering fire from the steam-powered guns of our own vessel. After one blast from our ship, the air remained surprisingly peaceful. When a few minutes elapsed without insistent fire from the opposing vessel, I came rushing out of my quarters to check for casualties and to assess the situation. After passing by the infirmary and seeing it empty, I headed out onto the upper decks to search for injured men in need of attention and to discover what had caused the cease fire. It was then that I noticed a ship of the British royal navy at our side, which, judging by its threatening aspect, had doubtless caused the attacking ship to flee.
Luckily the casualties on the upper decks seemed inconsequential. I thought it odd that we had chanced upon a naval vessel while simultaneously having the misfortune of falling under enemy fire. It crossed my mind that these two events may have been related somehow, but I was then distracted by the approach of several men from the nearby ship intending to board our decks.
The first man who crossed over after having seen our acquiescence introduced himself to me briskly, due to my happening to be the individual closest to the boarding point.
"Holmes," he said gruffly, clearly intending to speak to the man commandeering our vessel. He wore plain trousers and the sleeves of his shirt and fine jacket were rolled up. Despite his dishevelled attire, a hat adorned his head of stark black hair, fitted with a brass set of goggles. "Sherlock Holmes." There was no mention of his military status or of his role on the ship.
"Ship's surgeon?" he stated, before I had the opportunity to introduce myself. At the time I was wearing clothing of no particular bearing and was off-put by his quick wit.
"How?"
"It is of no importance," he replied curtly. "But I must ask a quick favour of your Captain."
Within moments our ship leader Captain Hughes was at my side and introducing himself to Holmes and the few other men who had boarded our ship. It was as they shook hands that I realized that one of the other men that had boarded our vessel was Stamford, an old friend of mine that had enlisted in the royal navy quite some time ago.
"Ah Dr. Watson, what a surprise!"
"Lieutenant Stamford," I replied offhandedly, my attention currently distracted by the possibility of injured men laying elsewhere on the ship. "This is quite the coincidence. I apologize for being brief, but I must check for injuries below deck."
Stamford nodded and I headed to the area where our vessel had been hit. The injuries were few, but one man's leg had suffered considerable damage. I quickly brought him to the infirmary and administered a strong aesthetic by needle, preparing him for an inevitable amputation. It was when I was about to begin severing the limb with my large ray-scalpel that that Stamford barged into the infirmary, followed by his non-enthusiastic, unusual acquaintance.
"I know that this is perhaps not an ideal location for a discussion," Stamford hastened to speak, "but as someone who is well-acquainted with your medical skills, I was wondering if you might be persuaded to take up a position on the HMS Resolute. We are in desperate need of a surgeon."
It was a sudden offer, considering that I was about to sear through flesh and bone. Although I was loath to leave my current merchant ship without a surgeon, both the allure of the man standing at the door with Stamford combined with the possibility of a change of pace made me consider his words rather than dismiss them. It was in later accepting the offer that my life would be forever changed. It was weeks, if not months after that I would learn that Sherlock Holmes was a member of intelligence working with the British navy, and that he had been pursuing a wicked seafaring man. The HMS Resolute had brought the pirate ship under control on that fateful day. Sherlock Holmes had noticed the captain of the ship fall overboard during our quick exchange, but he retrieved the man clinging to a piece of driftwood near our port bow.
***
Several years of serving upon a ship with Sherlock Holmes is bound to cause certain changes in one's lifestyle, changes that were certainly greater than I had originally anticipated. It had been about 3 years since our initial meeting, and since then I had learned a great deal about the other man. His intellect was sharper than that of anyone I had ever met, and his ability to extract information from minor details was exemplary. Although I had only been called aboard the HMS Resolute in order to serve as a surgeon, Holmes's attention had been peculiarly focused on me, which had led him to confide in me his true role as intelligence officer upon our vessel while the rest of the crew remained ignorant. That combined with my fascination at his detection skills had led us to pursue several criminal cases together that had been troubling the British navy. Whether we were at sea or on land, I had grown accustomed to a lifestyle of pursuit and inquiry at the side of my companion. He himself could barely function without a case that sufficiently challenged him. Recently, we had set up temporary accommodations in London and Holmes had fallen into one of his dark moods as we had been unable to secure employment at sea. He had begun to play the violin at ungodly hours in the morning, and as my quarters were not much removed from his I would often wake to a sort of disorganized screeching. It was with relief that we soon received word from Commodore Lestrade urgently requesting an audience with Holmes.
***
Lestrade's quarters were not far removed from our present location in London; a quick land vessel had us at the naval headquarters in which he worked. When we entered Commodore Lestrade's office the man looked dreadfully distressed. He invited us to be seated and I could see Holmes taking in every movement, deciphering Lestrade's mood as well as observing the details of the room around him.
"Having difficulty with a superior officer, Lestrade?"
Lestrade looked taken aback. After having dealt with Holmes for quite some time, though, he had grown accustomed to feigning comprehension of the manner in which Holmes came about his conclusions. It gave the man a semblance of pride.
"Quite. Gentlemen, today I bring you no client other than myself. It was only yesterday that I overheard fragments of a conversation of considerable importance. Admiral Moran appeared to have called a meeting with Vice Admiral Robinson and Captain Allen in a room not far from my own office. The door had been left ajar, no doubt a carelessness borne of a belief that most of the superior officers were currently at the disposal of the Admiral of the Fleet. Admiral Moran was holding a letter and appeared agitated. It was clear that a matter of great importance to him was not going according to his desires. I barely caught fragments of his words, but it appeared as though he was ordering Captain Allen to station a small fleet of vessels near the north-eastern mouth of the English Channel. The meaning behind these orders as well as the contents of the letter remain, to me, a complete mystery. It is my concern that the Admiral may be preparing to intercept a vessel at the mouth of the channel, and I am growing agitated being ignorant of his plans for they seem to involve a plot of great magnitude."
Holmes huffed for a moment before withdrawing a metallic pipe from the inside of his loosely buttoned jacket and lighting it. A flame glowed blue at the tip. He inhaled, and then exhaled a strong waft of smoke.
"I myself have been unable to obtain more information," prompted Lestrade.
"Yes, of course. I am afraid, Lestrade, that the good doctor and I may be in need of an improved vessel. Can you have one ready for us by tomorrow morning?"
***
Upon exiting Lestrade's quarters my partner appeared of renewed humour. With the help of Lestrade's directions, he set a brisk pace through the headquarters heading to the office of Admiral Moran. The entrance to the Admiral's office was shut and upon listening at the door and awaiting a response from a brief knock, it was clear that the quarters were empty.
"Watson," said Holmes, "I may be in need of your assistance. Although the hallway seems quiet, the Admiral could return at any moment. Your aid would be most valuable if you should intercept the Admiral if he returns to his quarters. Post yourself down the hallway and feign that you are searching for Commodore Lestrade. Should you come across the Admiral you shall release this and it shall make its way to me within moments." Holmes handed me a small mechanical moth, which I trapped within the palm of my hand. He quickly set to work at lock picking a door that put up little resistance against his armoury of tools.
Within ten minutes the Admiral returned, but Holmes had already left his rooms surreptitiously with the help of my distraction. Holmes did not describe what he had seen to me as of yet, although his eyes sparkled with renewed glitter. He muttered that we should hop in the nearest land vessel and hastily make our way to the port town of Newhaven. The road was long and the rain pelted down upon us, making the path a difficult one. It was with relief that we arrived during the early evening at a small local inn near the port, sheltered from the rain. As Holmes and I walked into our room for the night I cast off my dampened clothing and made to light the fire. Soon the heat that it released soothed us.
"I have business to attend to before we depart," Holmes said as we warmed up by the flames, "since we as of yet have no set course." I nodded and Holmes reached for one of his bags and disappeared into our room's lavatory. He was busy for quite some time. As I waited I attempted to create my own hypothesis based on the day's events.
"Holmes! What on earth…" my voice was cut short as I watched Sherlock Holmes enter the bedroom in women's clothing, a wig covering his raven hair and make-up rendering his lean face almost indistinguishable from that of a member of the fairer sex. Although I did not find his current attire any more attractive than his usual wear, it was unsettling to see Holmes in such a revealing state of dress. His skirts exposed much of his legs and his blouse bore a rather ample bosom held in by metallic buckles and a corset. I have yet to figure out how he reproduced such a fulsome female anatomy.
He smiled tensely under my direct gaze, appearing nervous and fiddling with his unusual hoop earrings that complimented the cuff he habitually wore. I immediately focused my eyes upon his face.
"I sent a message to my Irregulars earlier today. They are listening for information throughout this port town in order to attempt to determine the whereabouts of our target," said Holmes, his voice still deep. "But there are some key voices that young boys are not privy to. I shall be back before long. Stay here and rest; it should be an uncomplicated escapade."
I gawked at him as he made to leave our room, disturbed by the manner in which my gaze was drawn to his exposed skin.
***
When Sherlock Holmes re-entered my rooms he was soaked to the bone despite having brought an umbrella with him. I looked at him expectantly, for the man was lively and spirited. I waited as he removed his costume and changed into regular clothing, drying himself off and removing the make-up from his face. There were two chairs in our room and we sat across from one another.
"I shall start from the beginning," said Holmes, "for it has been an eventful day. Admiral Moran's quarters held little of interest, but there was a paper upon his desk that had been cast aside haphazardly. At first glance it appeared insignificant, but I made a copy of the text nonetheless. If you would be so kind as to recite this, Watson." The paper he handed me read as such:
January 26, ‘15
Dear Admiral Moran,
It has been a long time since we have received word from you. It is with deep remorse that I regret to inform you that your brother, Alan Moran, passed away late in the day yesterday at the age of 50. Should you wish to attend at his funeral it would be best for you to make your way to 26'36 Stonegate Street, York. We shall be awaiting your response.
Sincerely,
Mr. James Taylor
"What do you make of it, Watson?" I pondered the question before responding, hoping to impress my companion.
"The paper looks recent and yet the date indicates that it has been sent several years ago. This in itself is odd, that the Admiral should have been re-reading such an old message." I paused for a moment, pondering the implications. "This brings into question the validity of the message. Perhaps an accomplice of Moran's sent it, and the name James Taylor may be a fake. But why should the date have been faked? Perhaps the numbers are of importance?"
"Excellent work, Watson!" Holmes exclaimed, and I felt myself blush at his enthusiasm. "Right on all counts. I myself had been considering the numbers before I came to a simple conclusion. The apostrophe before the year is nothing unusual, but there is another apostrophe that stuck my interest. Notice the mark between the 26 and 36 of the address? What is also peculiar is that addresses do not usually contain four numbers." He paused in order to create a dramatic emphasis. "The numbers are a longitude and latitude, Watson. 26' 15, 50° 26' 36. This happens to be a location not far offshore from here in the middle of the English Channel."
"But what could possibly be in such an isolated location? Is there even land there?"
"Not on any map. Yet Admiral Moran dispatched a fleet at the eastern entrance of the Channel, which I propose may be due to another vessel intending to proceed to that precise location. It appears we have a race of sorts on our hands. It was only tonight that I was able to form a better idea of what might be present on the island."
I nodded, patiently awaiting further details, growing increasingly excited as Holmes told his tale.
"Women," re-started Holmes, "unavoidably talk. It was due to my costume tonight that I was able to make the acquaintance of several women of the night, and most importantly of the lovely Mrs. Mitchell. She had, just tonight, shared beds with a mysterious man going by the name of James. She warned me against the individual, stating that he had appeared nervous and unstable upon entering her chamber and that he had been very rough with her. Inebriated if not drugged, he had mumbled quite a bit during their lovemaking. When they had finished, she distinctly remembered him deliriously repeating over and over something about having to head off land in search of treasure."
I felt myself redden slightly at Holmes's frank talk, but was thrilled that we were closely trailing the man who had most likely addressed the coded letter to Admiral Moran. However, it appeared that this had not been the end of the detective's night.
"As I later headed off to meet with the Irregulars," continued Holmes, "I was approached by a young man upon the streets, who gripped me by the wrist and whisked me in close, holding me at the waist and back. At first I thought he was going to propose spending the night with me, until he spoke. Mr. Sherlock Holmes? He asked, and then his tone acquired a distinctively feminine twang. Too late, the youth said, before releasing me and heading down the street."
"You seem to have established a reputation," said I, trying to keep my tone steady as an odd sensation gripped my chest at the thought of a young man making advances upon Holmes.
"Indeed. Although I now wish that we had arrived sooner. The Irregulars had no further information. Our vessel will only be ready to depart tomorrow morning, and I am afraid that this youth may have been the precise individual that Moran and James are racing against."
There was a quiet then for a long while, and although I should have been contemplating the details of the case I found my thoughts straying to the scene of Holmes being dragged into a room by the youth he had met on the streets, his skirts being raised as the other man pushed him back onto a bed.
"My dear Watson," Holmes said, and I felt myself once again blush under his striking gaze. It appeared that he had been staring at me for some time without my notice. "What seems to have perturbed your thoughts to such an extent?"
I rose quickly from my seat, making up a quick excuse about the case being singular and intending to head off to sleep in my own bed, although it was in the same room. As I passed by Holmes I felt his hand at my wrist, his fingers brushing my skin lightly before gripping at my shirtsleeve, making me turn back towards my companion.
"Watson…" Holmes said, and nothing else. I felt his other hand reach up to my waist, resting there for a moment before running up my side. I was paralyzed with nerves as one of his lean hands reached towards my face. I felt his fingertips upon my check, brushing my skin as though it was fragile. I panicked, the tenderness of the moment disconcerting me and making me push him away lightly, but he grasped my hand aside and instantly drove forward, pressing our lips together. I stood shell-shocked, unresponsive as he lightly embraced me, mouth remaining closed. One of his hands ran up my neck and I felt myself begin to respond to the kiss, an unexpected heat taking over me. It was the brush of his tongue at my lips that made me start.
"Holmes!" said I, breaking us apart, my heartbeat pounding. "What, what…"
I stepped back, at a complete loss for words. Although Holmes's attachment to me had at times struck me as unusual I had believed his dependence on me to be due to a deep need of companionship, particularly due to the cold manner with which most of society treated my dear friend. To think of Sherlock Holmes as a sexual being would have been to believe the earth flat. It had been, to my knowledge, a physical impossibility.
And yet here I was, across the room from my friend, silent as he gazed upon me looking ruffled and flushed. The thought of Holmes physically desiring me rendered me borderline delirious.
"My dear Watson, I must apologize for my indiscretion. It had seemed that you might -"
I did not hear the end of his sentence for I had walked through the door, a suffocating feeling pressing at my chest. I caught a glance at him as I exited, and it was one of the few moments in my life when Sherlock Holmes had looked completely taken aback, as if he had completely mistaken the guilty party in a murder case despite all of the available clues. What was equally upsetting in that night's event was the effort it had taken for me to remain cold as my partner's body urged against mine. As I was about to exit the inn, something stopped my movement. I realized that both the potential thrill of following Holmes into open water as well as pressing myself against his body prevented me from crossing the threshold.
It was moments later that I burst back into our room and found Holmes sitting by the window in his seat, smoking his pipe and staring out the window. He did not turn to face me the instant I entered, but when I closed the door behind me he rose from his seat, shaken.
"Watson, I dearly hope that I have not alarmed you to such a degree that you would no longer wish to maintain our friendship." He had likely practiced the phrase because the words rolled off his tongue swiftly and lifelessly. When his eyes met mine I felt myself flinch at the fear I saw in them. His voice was slightly unsteady as he continued. "I would completely understand should you wish to leave."
Seeing Holmes in such unnatural distress and knowing that I was its cause drove me forward. I pulled his body close to mine, easing one hand around his waist and splaying my fingers carefully across his back. I ran my fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck, looking into his stricken eyes before crushing our mouths together. He let out a muffled sound of surprise, his hands rising to grip the back of my shirt desperately. This time I ventured my tongue into his mouth and he responded with fervour, pulling at my shirt. I heaved a shuddering groan into his mouth at the contact.
I was unsure of how to proceed. My body called for everything but my conscience still weighed on my mind, hesitant about the consequences of my intended actions with another man. The feeling of Holmes so close shot pleasure throughout my body and I felt my chest swell with desire. When we broke apart Holmes's raven hair was mussed and his eyes were wild and bewildered. I felt myself stiffen at the sight of him.
"Watson," he said tentatively, "are you certain about this?" His hand reached for my cheek, fingers curling to cup my face. "Earlier you seemed quite distraught, and I must make sure that you truly desire this."
Desperate to show him my honest want, I pulled him close once again. This time I gripped his hips and brought mine to his, moaning deeply as I noticed his erection through his trousers, pressing against me. My name fell from his lips as I began to frot against him, growing shameless. He increased the pace until we were sweating, gripping onto each other and desperately attempting to remain quiet so as not to alert travellers in the adjacent rooms about our activities.
"Watson," Holmes said, rubbing against me and eager for more friction. My name was an inquiry and soon I felt his hands at my trousers, his thumbs slipping under the fabric tentatively. I groaned but stayed his hands, nervous at the thought of being exposed before him. He registered my discomfort, blushed at his over-enthusiasm, and began to work at my shirt instead, quickly undoing the buttons. He moved his mouth lower and flicked his tongue against my nipple, looking up at me with a smirk as I bucked into him. The thought of Holmes being a confident, teasing lover baffled and aroused me, and soon he had borne me back against the small desk in our room, placing his hand at the front of my trousers and rubbing me through the fabric as he licked a trail down my chest, wetly kissing my skin above the line of my clothing.
Despite my earlier refusal, I could no longer stand to be dressed. "Holmes," I ventured, pausing to build up a measure of confidence. "Please undress me…" He growled at my encouragement, fumbling with eagerness before he managed to slip my trousers down and my drawers with them. I felt my cheeks redden as he looked at my exposed shaft.
Up until this moment I had been puzzled by Holmes's apparent sexual experience, but it became quite clear to me that he had been running on adrenaline and now needed my guidance for further acts. My breathing became uneven as he ran his fingers across my length before gripping me and pumping my flesh for a few moments. I started as he dropped to his knees, his hands never leaving my body.
"Holmes, don't-" I said as I saw him open his mouth, but the warm, wet heat that engulfed me silenced my words. Holmes was inexpert although he soon established a rhythm, bobbing up and down my cock. The pleasure was blinding and I could do nothing but weave my hands through his hair, encouraging his movements. Soon my breathing grew ragged, and Holmes only increased the pace, his smoky eyes looking up to meet mine. I again tried to direct him away but he grabbed my hips, forcing my member further down his throat. Unable to hold back, I bit my bottom lip and came, thinking only of how it was Holmes's mouth upon me, that it was Holmes who was swallowing my seed, rutting against his hand as he did so.
It took me a moment to recover from orgasm and I could see that Holmes was exceedingly uncomfortable. I had not been wholly enthusiastic in returning his actions and he stood, palming his erection through his trousers, flushing as he touched himself while looking at me. I could bear no more and reached for him, slipping my hand under his clothing and grasping him, feeling the wetness that had already seeped from him.
"Watson…" said he as he looked at me, startled slightly and bucking into my hand. "Oh mon dieu, oui.[1]" I instantly began to move quickly and he thrust against me, having lost any sense of control. It was within moments that he spent himself upon my fingers, shuddering and groaning against me as I kissed him. When I withdrew my hand I could see the dampness seeping through his trousers.
We were quiet as we cleaned ourselves. I went to the lavatory first, wiping myself off. When I exited Holmes proceeded to clean himself off as well, and I was left with the difficult choice of choosing in which bed to sleep. Hoping not to alarm Holmes or to enforce unwanted intimacy upon him, I returned to my own bed. As I felt sleep approaching I heard Holmes walk out of the lavatory and pause before making his way to his bed. I rolled over in my sheets, feeling cold after our shared intimacy, wondering if I should rise and lay with Holmes instead. Both of us remained silent and immobile that night.
***
The next morning I woke to the sound of a knock at the door. Holmes was already awake, gazing at me from his seat and smoking his pipe. I rose quickly to prepare myself for the outgoing journey, flushing as I recalled the events of the night before. At the door was one of Lestrade's men, informing us that our vessel was at last ready.
We were about to leave the room when Holmes stopped me from opening the door. He looked unsteady and vulnerable, and the first time he attempted to talk he stumbled with his words and I had to ask him to repeat himself.
"What does this mean?" he said.
"It means…" I started, unsure of what it meant myself although I knew what I desired. I decided to be frank. "It means that I do not want to court anyone else. It means that I shall remain a bachelor with you and live by you, should you desire such…romantic companionship." I was wary about bringing emotions into our affair, but at that moment Holmes's eyes belayed a tenderness that I had thought the other man was devoid of.
"Oh, thank God," said Holmes, letting out the breath that he had been holding. He reached for me and our lips met. Our kissing gradually grew fevered, and when we broke apart for air he smirked at me, returning to a semblance of his usual self.
"The game, I regret, is afoot." We then had no choice but to leave our quarters and soon we had boarded the ship and were on our way to the location indicated by the letter. The waters were rough and we spent most of the voyage in flight, attempting to arrive with all due speed. Holmes and I stood outside on deck, hoping to catch sight of another vessel and standing close to one another. It was only when the island came into sight that we became aware of another ship docked at the landmass.
"It appears as though we are arriving just in time," said Holmes, looking pleased with the manner in which our investigation was proceeding. "Let us take cover. It is most likely that the crew will not be pleased by our presence."
Holmes was not in error. As we approached we heard disorganized shouting, but our vessel had been prepared for the attack and had the advantage of firing first as we lowered our altitude. Being airborne increased the damage of our shots and made it exceedingly difficult for the other vessel to hit its mark. Surrender was quick, and we suffered few damages.
Our men quickly boarded the deck of the other ship, bringing the crew under our control and confining them to the brig. It was a large crew, but even with their numbers and their powerful vessel they had little chance against our own sturdy craft. Holmes and I stood on deck watching the proceedings before he turned to face me.
"To the island," Holmes said, his hand brushing against mine warmly. "Given the erratic and confused behaviour of the crew during our attack, it seems likely that some of the commanding officers are still on land."
We descended from the ship quickly by the ladders, alerting several of our men to come with us. The air was cold and I pulled my jacket more closely around me. It was growing dark outside and it had begun to drizzle; the rain was quick to dampen my hair and clothing. The island itself was remarkably small, but the large, scraggly caverns upon it reached high into the sky, casting dark shadows upon the sand where we stood. There was an obvious opening in the rock nearby and I followed Holmes into the shadows, pulling out my torch and flicking it on. It cast a light into the narrow space between the rocks. The walk through the breach was treacherous and more than once I almost lost my footing on the jagged stones.
Moments into our trek we heard voices from far off. Holmes pulled out his aether gun, preparing for a confrontation. A few steps later the passage opened up into an immense cavern, and it was easy to spot the two men who stood at the far wall. Their loud speech silenced our approach.
"Gentlemen!" cried Holmes, as we held up our guns to the two strangers, forcing their retreat. "I suggest that you make no attempt at resistance. Your vessel is already under our command."
The men we had come with made quick work of the two strangers, one of which turned back to shout at us. "Sherlock Holmes?" he said, in an aggravated tone. "Surely only such a man would have followed me here."
Holmes approached the other man, taking in his attire. "James, I suppose? Would you be so kind as to provide me with a last name?" The other man scoffed and spat at the ground, barely missing Holmes's feet before he was dragged away by the men who had come with us.
Holmes took a moment to examine the cavern before returning to the ship. "Awfully barren isn't it, Watson?" Indeed it was. There appeared to be nothing of value in the cave. In fact, the only object that stood out was a chest that James and the other man had been standing by. Holmes swung the coffer open. It was empty aside from a slip of paper, and Holmes smirked as he read it.
Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
I regret to inform you that you have arrived too late. Better luck next time, and all the best should you have arrested the man who attempted to rob me.
Yours,
Irene Adler
Holmes looked bitter as he read the note, for although we had captured one man and his crew, another pirate was free.
"I suppose this shall be for another time," he said and I nodded in response, looking forward to our future work together. We headed back to our ship shortly, and I could have sworn that I saw a tinge of admiration in Holmes's eyes. It was, after all, one of the few moments that I had seen him defeated.
***
When we arrived back in London, Holmes was quick to bring an end to the investigation. We wired Lestrade and soon the three of us were in our living quarters with several other men in order to ensure that James would not escape. Holmes turned on his recording device.
"It is quite a simple story," said James, and we would only later learn of his last name. He was quite willing to talk, given the disappearance of the treasure and the crimes already held against him. He seemed smug for a man in his position. "About a week ago my crew and I captured a small pirate vessel on our way from France to England. It was a rather difficult battle and we suffered many casualties, but the attack had been worthwhile. At first it seemed as though our efforts had been wasted. The ship itself held little interest and was devoid of anything of value. We returned to Newhaven quickly, hoping to re-stock supplies and replace the members of our crew that had perished. One of the captured crewmembers, however, revealed that the captain, a man named Adler, and the first-mate had been hiding their plunder after each escapade, hoping to avoid being robbed. It took several days of convincing the first mate to reveal his knowledge for us to learn that the vessel had only appeared poor because it had been storing much of its treasure on the island at which you seized me. He also told us that they had intended to soon take the treasure and flee to live a comfortable life on land."
Holmes nodded rapidly, urging the other man to continue.
"At the time we had not realized that the captain of the ship had abandoned the vessel during our siege. It is clear, now, that he was in fact alive and well. I am not sure how Adler made his way back to shore, although it is feasible that a French vessel found him not long after our departure, which is quite unfortunate. We received information that Adler had been spotted in the French ports and grew increasingly worried that he intended to recover the treasure and flee. Little did we know, he had already made his way to Newhaven. He had no doubt intended to neutralize us at shore before we headed out to sea, for our vessel was quite powerful. When I went out that night I had the misfortune of encountering Adler, who was quick to render me unconscious. I believe that he injected a hallucinogenic drug into my bloodstream, and I spent the night wandering in a drugged stupor, giving Adler the necessary time to arrive at the island before us."
Holmes smirked at Moriarty's blindness to Adler's true gender before making one last inquiry.
"And what of Admiral Moran? He must have had informants in the French ports who let you know of Adler re-assembling a crew and setting back out towards England. I assume that he provided protection for your pirate vessel so that you may more easily achieve your criminal goals? You must have been willing to offer him a valued portion of your shares."
James nodded, surprised by Holmes's insight into the situation. The police were quick to apprehend the man when he had finished speaking, although little did we know that it would not be the last that we would see of him. His words had equally condemned Admiral Moran.
We were left to ourselves in our cosy rooms, and when Holmes and I looked at each other I felt a rush of exhilaration rush through my body in anticipation, for there was heat in his gaze.
"Viens, Watson" said he, guiding me towards the bedroom, willing to momentarily put aside James's smug behaviour. "Je ne sais pas ce que je ferais sans toi. Sait que tu m'es plus important que mes affaires criminelles, et que je ne pourrais pas bien vivre sans ta présence.[2]"
It was only later that I learned the meaning of his words.
[1] Oh God, yes.
[2] Come, Watson. I do not know what I would do without you. Know that you are more important to me than my criminal cases, and that I could not live easily without your presence.
Recipient: muted_clamour
Author: blighted_garden
Characters/Pairings: Holmes/Watson
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, mild violence, AU
Summary: When Holmes and Watson are called into Admiral Lestrade's quarters, they soon find themselves confronting the ocean as well as their own desires.
Notes: Thank you to hollyxu for the beta. I hope that you enjoy, muted_clamour!
A Scandal at Sea
My life had started out as a simple existence, but there was one event that led me off-course from a traditional lifestyle. As a young adult I had served for several years as a surgeon on the decks of British merchant ships, inspecting countless cases of scurvy and busted belly. It had been on most days, to say the least, a rather insipid profession, but it had enabled me to visit foreign shores whilst not having to concern myself with the maintenance of my own practice. Although my crew and I had encountered occasional troubles with runaway ships attempting to rob us of not only our cargo but also portions of the ship itself, the seas were, on any habitual day, calm. As trade with India became increasingly prevalent, with fleets now being made of more modern, steam-powered, flight-worthy vessels, my day-to-day life had become exhilarating. Although the ships could run at rapid speeds and within their decks lay a greater variety of conveniences, their hulls were no sturdier than those of the earlier vessels. The enticement of the luxury present within their walls made them the sought-after target of pirate vessels. In one particularly difficult battle I had seriously injured my leg, and it is only due to the hydraulic system implanted within my limb that I am able to function once again as normal, part metal gears instead of muscle.
It was on a voyage back from the region of Bengal that a strange occurrence transpired. I had been sitting in my quarters, there being few patients in the infirmary and none of them urgent cases. I was becoming increasingly aware of the growing bustle above deck. From the few cries that I could comprehend, it seemed as though there was an approaching vessel. Fearing the worst, I set aside my papers and armed myself with an aether gun, although it would clearly do little good even in case of boarding. It was shortly after that the cries from above deck grew urgent and I heard a growing activity below deck in the galley. Moments later I was deafened by the sound of a blast, stemming not from our own artillery but from the guns of another vessel, landing a blow that caused the entire ship to shake.
From the sound of it there had only been one or two shots at most. I waited for a moment, and soon there was answering fire from the steam-powered guns of our own vessel. After one blast from our ship, the air remained surprisingly peaceful. When a few minutes elapsed without insistent fire from the opposing vessel, I came rushing out of my quarters to check for casualties and to assess the situation. After passing by the infirmary and seeing it empty, I headed out onto the upper decks to search for injured men in need of attention and to discover what had caused the cease fire. It was then that I noticed a ship of the British royal navy at our side, which, judging by its threatening aspect, had doubtless caused the attacking ship to flee.
Luckily the casualties on the upper decks seemed inconsequential. I thought it odd that we had chanced upon a naval vessel while simultaneously having the misfortune of falling under enemy fire. It crossed my mind that these two events may have been related somehow, but I was then distracted by the approach of several men from the nearby ship intending to board our decks.
The first man who crossed over after having seen our acquiescence introduced himself to me briskly, due to my happening to be the individual closest to the boarding point.
"Holmes," he said gruffly, clearly intending to speak to the man commandeering our vessel. He wore plain trousers and the sleeves of his shirt and fine jacket were rolled up. Despite his dishevelled attire, a hat adorned his head of stark black hair, fitted with a brass set of goggles. "Sherlock Holmes." There was no mention of his military status or of his role on the ship.
"Ship's surgeon?" he stated, before I had the opportunity to introduce myself. At the time I was wearing clothing of no particular bearing and was off-put by his quick wit.
"How?"
"It is of no importance," he replied curtly. "But I must ask a quick favour of your Captain."
Within moments our ship leader Captain Hughes was at my side and introducing himself to Holmes and the few other men who had boarded our ship. It was as they shook hands that I realized that one of the other men that had boarded our vessel was Stamford, an old friend of mine that had enlisted in the royal navy quite some time ago.
"Ah Dr. Watson, what a surprise!"
"Lieutenant Stamford," I replied offhandedly, my attention currently distracted by the possibility of injured men laying elsewhere on the ship. "This is quite the coincidence. I apologize for being brief, but I must check for injuries below deck."
Stamford nodded and I headed to the area where our vessel had been hit. The injuries were few, but one man's leg had suffered considerable damage. I quickly brought him to the infirmary and administered a strong aesthetic by needle, preparing him for an inevitable amputation. It was when I was about to begin severing the limb with my large ray-scalpel that that Stamford barged into the infirmary, followed by his non-enthusiastic, unusual acquaintance.
"I know that this is perhaps not an ideal location for a discussion," Stamford hastened to speak, "but as someone who is well-acquainted with your medical skills, I was wondering if you might be persuaded to take up a position on the HMS Resolute. We are in desperate need of a surgeon."
It was a sudden offer, considering that I was about to sear through flesh and bone. Although I was loath to leave my current merchant ship without a surgeon, both the allure of the man standing at the door with Stamford combined with the possibility of a change of pace made me consider his words rather than dismiss them. It was in later accepting the offer that my life would be forever changed. It was weeks, if not months after that I would learn that Sherlock Holmes was a member of intelligence working with the British navy, and that he had been pursuing a wicked seafaring man. The HMS Resolute had brought the pirate ship under control on that fateful day. Sherlock Holmes had noticed the captain of the ship fall overboard during our quick exchange, but he retrieved the man clinging to a piece of driftwood near our port bow.
***
Several years of serving upon a ship with Sherlock Holmes is bound to cause certain changes in one's lifestyle, changes that were certainly greater than I had originally anticipated. It had been about 3 years since our initial meeting, and since then I had learned a great deal about the other man. His intellect was sharper than that of anyone I had ever met, and his ability to extract information from minor details was exemplary. Although I had only been called aboard the HMS Resolute in order to serve as a surgeon, Holmes's attention had been peculiarly focused on me, which had led him to confide in me his true role as intelligence officer upon our vessel while the rest of the crew remained ignorant. That combined with my fascination at his detection skills had led us to pursue several criminal cases together that had been troubling the British navy. Whether we were at sea or on land, I had grown accustomed to a lifestyle of pursuit and inquiry at the side of my companion. He himself could barely function without a case that sufficiently challenged him. Recently, we had set up temporary accommodations in London and Holmes had fallen into one of his dark moods as we had been unable to secure employment at sea. He had begun to play the violin at ungodly hours in the morning, and as my quarters were not much removed from his I would often wake to a sort of disorganized screeching. It was with relief that we soon received word from Commodore Lestrade urgently requesting an audience with Holmes.
***
Lestrade's quarters were not far removed from our present location in London; a quick land vessel had us at the naval headquarters in which he worked. When we entered Commodore Lestrade's office the man looked dreadfully distressed. He invited us to be seated and I could see Holmes taking in every movement, deciphering Lestrade's mood as well as observing the details of the room around him.
"Having difficulty with a superior officer, Lestrade?"
Lestrade looked taken aback. After having dealt with Holmes for quite some time, though, he had grown accustomed to feigning comprehension of the manner in which Holmes came about his conclusions. It gave the man a semblance of pride.
"Quite. Gentlemen, today I bring you no client other than myself. It was only yesterday that I overheard fragments of a conversation of considerable importance. Admiral Moran appeared to have called a meeting with Vice Admiral Robinson and Captain Allen in a room not far from my own office. The door had been left ajar, no doubt a carelessness borne of a belief that most of the superior officers were currently at the disposal of the Admiral of the Fleet. Admiral Moran was holding a letter and appeared agitated. It was clear that a matter of great importance to him was not going according to his desires. I barely caught fragments of his words, but it appeared as though he was ordering Captain Allen to station a small fleet of vessels near the north-eastern mouth of the English Channel. The meaning behind these orders as well as the contents of the letter remain, to me, a complete mystery. It is my concern that the Admiral may be preparing to intercept a vessel at the mouth of the channel, and I am growing agitated being ignorant of his plans for they seem to involve a plot of great magnitude."
Holmes huffed for a moment before withdrawing a metallic pipe from the inside of his loosely buttoned jacket and lighting it. A flame glowed blue at the tip. He inhaled, and then exhaled a strong waft of smoke.
"I myself have been unable to obtain more information," prompted Lestrade.
"Yes, of course. I am afraid, Lestrade, that the good doctor and I may be in need of an improved vessel. Can you have one ready for us by tomorrow morning?"
***
Upon exiting Lestrade's quarters my partner appeared of renewed humour. With the help of Lestrade's directions, he set a brisk pace through the headquarters heading to the office of Admiral Moran. The entrance to the Admiral's office was shut and upon listening at the door and awaiting a response from a brief knock, it was clear that the quarters were empty.
"Watson," said Holmes, "I may be in need of your assistance. Although the hallway seems quiet, the Admiral could return at any moment. Your aid would be most valuable if you should intercept the Admiral if he returns to his quarters. Post yourself down the hallway and feign that you are searching for Commodore Lestrade. Should you come across the Admiral you shall release this and it shall make its way to me within moments." Holmes handed me a small mechanical moth, which I trapped within the palm of my hand. He quickly set to work at lock picking a door that put up little resistance against his armoury of tools.
Within ten minutes the Admiral returned, but Holmes had already left his rooms surreptitiously with the help of my distraction. Holmes did not describe what he had seen to me as of yet, although his eyes sparkled with renewed glitter. He muttered that we should hop in the nearest land vessel and hastily make our way to the port town of Newhaven. The road was long and the rain pelted down upon us, making the path a difficult one. It was with relief that we arrived during the early evening at a small local inn near the port, sheltered from the rain. As Holmes and I walked into our room for the night I cast off my dampened clothing and made to light the fire. Soon the heat that it released soothed us.
"I have business to attend to before we depart," Holmes said as we warmed up by the flames, "since we as of yet have no set course." I nodded and Holmes reached for one of his bags and disappeared into our room's lavatory. He was busy for quite some time. As I waited I attempted to create my own hypothesis based on the day's events.
"Holmes! What on earth…" my voice was cut short as I watched Sherlock Holmes enter the bedroom in women's clothing, a wig covering his raven hair and make-up rendering his lean face almost indistinguishable from that of a member of the fairer sex. Although I did not find his current attire any more attractive than his usual wear, it was unsettling to see Holmes in such a revealing state of dress. His skirts exposed much of his legs and his blouse bore a rather ample bosom held in by metallic buckles and a corset. I have yet to figure out how he reproduced such a fulsome female anatomy.
He smiled tensely under my direct gaze, appearing nervous and fiddling with his unusual hoop earrings that complimented the cuff he habitually wore. I immediately focused my eyes upon his face.
"I sent a message to my Irregulars earlier today. They are listening for information throughout this port town in order to attempt to determine the whereabouts of our target," said Holmes, his voice still deep. "But there are some key voices that young boys are not privy to. I shall be back before long. Stay here and rest; it should be an uncomplicated escapade."
I gawked at him as he made to leave our room, disturbed by the manner in which my gaze was drawn to his exposed skin.
***
When Sherlock Holmes re-entered my rooms he was soaked to the bone despite having brought an umbrella with him. I looked at him expectantly, for the man was lively and spirited. I waited as he removed his costume and changed into regular clothing, drying himself off and removing the make-up from his face. There were two chairs in our room and we sat across from one another.
"I shall start from the beginning," said Holmes, "for it has been an eventful day. Admiral Moran's quarters held little of interest, but there was a paper upon his desk that had been cast aside haphazardly. At first glance it appeared insignificant, but I made a copy of the text nonetheless. If you would be so kind as to recite this, Watson." The paper he handed me read as such:
January 26, ‘15
Dear Admiral Moran,
It has been a long time since we have received word from you. It is with deep remorse that I regret to inform you that your brother, Alan Moran, passed away late in the day yesterday at the age of 50. Should you wish to attend at his funeral it would be best for you to make your way to 26'36 Stonegate Street, York. We shall be awaiting your response.
Sincerely,
Mr. James Taylor
"What do you make of it, Watson?" I pondered the question before responding, hoping to impress my companion.
"The paper looks recent and yet the date indicates that it has been sent several years ago. This in itself is odd, that the Admiral should have been re-reading such an old message." I paused for a moment, pondering the implications. "This brings into question the validity of the message. Perhaps an accomplice of Moran's sent it, and the name James Taylor may be a fake. But why should the date have been faked? Perhaps the numbers are of importance?"
"Excellent work, Watson!" Holmes exclaimed, and I felt myself blush at his enthusiasm. "Right on all counts. I myself had been considering the numbers before I came to a simple conclusion. The apostrophe before the year is nothing unusual, but there is another apostrophe that stuck my interest. Notice the mark between the 26 and 36 of the address? What is also peculiar is that addresses do not usually contain four numbers." He paused in order to create a dramatic emphasis. "The numbers are a longitude and latitude, Watson. 26' 15, 50° 26' 36. This happens to be a location not far offshore from here in the middle of the English Channel."
"But what could possibly be in such an isolated location? Is there even land there?"
"Not on any map. Yet Admiral Moran dispatched a fleet at the eastern entrance of the Channel, which I propose may be due to another vessel intending to proceed to that precise location. It appears we have a race of sorts on our hands. It was only tonight that I was able to form a better idea of what might be present on the island."
I nodded, patiently awaiting further details, growing increasingly excited as Holmes told his tale.
"Women," re-started Holmes, "unavoidably talk. It was due to my costume tonight that I was able to make the acquaintance of several women of the night, and most importantly of the lovely Mrs. Mitchell. She had, just tonight, shared beds with a mysterious man going by the name of James. She warned me against the individual, stating that he had appeared nervous and unstable upon entering her chamber and that he had been very rough with her. Inebriated if not drugged, he had mumbled quite a bit during their lovemaking. When they had finished, she distinctly remembered him deliriously repeating over and over something about having to head off land in search of treasure."
I felt myself redden slightly at Holmes's frank talk, but was thrilled that we were closely trailing the man who had most likely addressed the coded letter to Admiral Moran. However, it appeared that this had not been the end of the detective's night.
"As I later headed off to meet with the Irregulars," continued Holmes, "I was approached by a young man upon the streets, who gripped me by the wrist and whisked me in close, holding me at the waist and back. At first I thought he was going to propose spending the night with me, until he spoke. Mr. Sherlock Holmes? He asked, and then his tone acquired a distinctively feminine twang. Too late, the youth said, before releasing me and heading down the street."
"You seem to have established a reputation," said I, trying to keep my tone steady as an odd sensation gripped my chest at the thought of a young man making advances upon Holmes.
"Indeed. Although I now wish that we had arrived sooner. The Irregulars had no further information. Our vessel will only be ready to depart tomorrow morning, and I am afraid that this youth may have been the precise individual that Moran and James are racing against."
There was a quiet then for a long while, and although I should have been contemplating the details of the case I found my thoughts straying to the scene of Holmes being dragged into a room by the youth he had met on the streets, his skirts being raised as the other man pushed him back onto a bed.
"My dear Watson," Holmes said, and I felt myself once again blush under his striking gaze. It appeared that he had been staring at me for some time without my notice. "What seems to have perturbed your thoughts to such an extent?"
I rose quickly from my seat, making up a quick excuse about the case being singular and intending to head off to sleep in my own bed, although it was in the same room. As I passed by Holmes I felt his hand at my wrist, his fingers brushing my skin lightly before gripping at my shirtsleeve, making me turn back towards my companion.
"Watson…" Holmes said, and nothing else. I felt his other hand reach up to my waist, resting there for a moment before running up my side. I was paralyzed with nerves as one of his lean hands reached towards my face. I felt his fingertips upon my check, brushing my skin as though it was fragile. I panicked, the tenderness of the moment disconcerting me and making me push him away lightly, but he grasped my hand aside and instantly drove forward, pressing our lips together. I stood shell-shocked, unresponsive as he lightly embraced me, mouth remaining closed. One of his hands ran up my neck and I felt myself begin to respond to the kiss, an unexpected heat taking over me. It was the brush of his tongue at my lips that made me start.
"Holmes!" said I, breaking us apart, my heartbeat pounding. "What, what…"
I stepped back, at a complete loss for words. Although Holmes's attachment to me had at times struck me as unusual I had believed his dependence on me to be due to a deep need of companionship, particularly due to the cold manner with which most of society treated my dear friend. To think of Sherlock Holmes as a sexual being would have been to believe the earth flat. It had been, to my knowledge, a physical impossibility.
And yet here I was, across the room from my friend, silent as he gazed upon me looking ruffled and flushed. The thought of Holmes physically desiring me rendered me borderline delirious.
"My dear Watson, I must apologize for my indiscretion. It had seemed that you might -"
I did not hear the end of his sentence for I had walked through the door, a suffocating feeling pressing at my chest. I caught a glance at him as I exited, and it was one of the few moments in my life when Sherlock Holmes had looked completely taken aback, as if he had completely mistaken the guilty party in a murder case despite all of the available clues. What was equally upsetting in that night's event was the effort it had taken for me to remain cold as my partner's body urged against mine. As I was about to exit the inn, something stopped my movement. I realized that both the potential thrill of following Holmes into open water as well as pressing myself against his body prevented me from crossing the threshold.
It was moments later that I burst back into our room and found Holmes sitting by the window in his seat, smoking his pipe and staring out the window. He did not turn to face me the instant I entered, but when I closed the door behind me he rose from his seat, shaken.
"Watson, I dearly hope that I have not alarmed you to such a degree that you would no longer wish to maintain our friendship." He had likely practiced the phrase because the words rolled off his tongue swiftly and lifelessly. When his eyes met mine I felt myself flinch at the fear I saw in them. His voice was slightly unsteady as he continued. "I would completely understand should you wish to leave."
Seeing Holmes in such unnatural distress and knowing that I was its cause drove me forward. I pulled his body close to mine, easing one hand around his waist and splaying my fingers carefully across his back. I ran my fingers through the short hair at the base of his neck, looking into his stricken eyes before crushing our mouths together. He let out a muffled sound of surprise, his hands rising to grip the back of my shirt desperately. This time I ventured my tongue into his mouth and he responded with fervour, pulling at my shirt. I heaved a shuddering groan into his mouth at the contact.
I was unsure of how to proceed. My body called for everything but my conscience still weighed on my mind, hesitant about the consequences of my intended actions with another man. The feeling of Holmes so close shot pleasure throughout my body and I felt my chest swell with desire. When we broke apart Holmes's raven hair was mussed and his eyes were wild and bewildered. I felt myself stiffen at the sight of him.
"Watson," he said tentatively, "are you certain about this?" His hand reached for my cheek, fingers curling to cup my face. "Earlier you seemed quite distraught, and I must make sure that you truly desire this."
Desperate to show him my honest want, I pulled him close once again. This time I gripped his hips and brought mine to his, moaning deeply as I noticed his erection through his trousers, pressing against me. My name fell from his lips as I began to frot against him, growing shameless. He increased the pace until we were sweating, gripping onto each other and desperately attempting to remain quiet so as not to alert travellers in the adjacent rooms about our activities.
"Watson," Holmes said, rubbing against me and eager for more friction. My name was an inquiry and soon I felt his hands at my trousers, his thumbs slipping under the fabric tentatively. I groaned but stayed his hands, nervous at the thought of being exposed before him. He registered my discomfort, blushed at his over-enthusiasm, and began to work at my shirt instead, quickly undoing the buttons. He moved his mouth lower and flicked his tongue against my nipple, looking up at me with a smirk as I bucked into him. The thought of Holmes being a confident, teasing lover baffled and aroused me, and soon he had borne me back against the small desk in our room, placing his hand at the front of my trousers and rubbing me through the fabric as he licked a trail down my chest, wetly kissing my skin above the line of my clothing.
Despite my earlier refusal, I could no longer stand to be dressed. "Holmes," I ventured, pausing to build up a measure of confidence. "Please undress me…" He growled at my encouragement, fumbling with eagerness before he managed to slip my trousers down and my drawers with them. I felt my cheeks redden as he looked at my exposed shaft.
Up until this moment I had been puzzled by Holmes's apparent sexual experience, but it became quite clear to me that he had been running on adrenaline and now needed my guidance for further acts. My breathing became uneven as he ran his fingers across my length before gripping me and pumping my flesh for a few moments. I started as he dropped to his knees, his hands never leaving my body.
"Holmes, don't-" I said as I saw him open his mouth, but the warm, wet heat that engulfed me silenced my words. Holmes was inexpert although he soon established a rhythm, bobbing up and down my cock. The pleasure was blinding and I could do nothing but weave my hands through his hair, encouraging his movements. Soon my breathing grew ragged, and Holmes only increased the pace, his smoky eyes looking up to meet mine. I again tried to direct him away but he grabbed my hips, forcing my member further down his throat. Unable to hold back, I bit my bottom lip and came, thinking only of how it was Holmes's mouth upon me, that it was Holmes who was swallowing my seed, rutting against his hand as he did so.
It took me a moment to recover from orgasm and I could see that Holmes was exceedingly uncomfortable. I had not been wholly enthusiastic in returning his actions and he stood, palming his erection through his trousers, flushing as he touched himself while looking at me. I could bear no more and reached for him, slipping my hand under his clothing and grasping him, feeling the wetness that had already seeped from him.
"Watson…" said he as he looked at me, startled slightly and bucking into my hand. "Oh mon dieu, oui.[1]" I instantly began to move quickly and he thrust against me, having lost any sense of control. It was within moments that he spent himself upon my fingers, shuddering and groaning against me as I kissed him. When I withdrew my hand I could see the dampness seeping through his trousers.
We were quiet as we cleaned ourselves. I went to the lavatory first, wiping myself off. When I exited Holmes proceeded to clean himself off as well, and I was left with the difficult choice of choosing in which bed to sleep. Hoping not to alarm Holmes or to enforce unwanted intimacy upon him, I returned to my own bed. As I felt sleep approaching I heard Holmes walk out of the lavatory and pause before making his way to his bed. I rolled over in my sheets, feeling cold after our shared intimacy, wondering if I should rise and lay with Holmes instead. Both of us remained silent and immobile that night.
***
The next morning I woke to the sound of a knock at the door. Holmes was already awake, gazing at me from his seat and smoking his pipe. I rose quickly to prepare myself for the outgoing journey, flushing as I recalled the events of the night before. At the door was one of Lestrade's men, informing us that our vessel was at last ready.
We were about to leave the room when Holmes stopped me from opening the door. He looked unsteady and vulnerable, and the first time he attempted to talk he stumbled with his words and I had to ask him to repeat himself.
"What does this mean?" he said.
"It means…" I started, unsure of what it meant myself although I knew what I desired. I decided to be frank. "It means that I do not want to court anyone else. It means that I shall remain a bachelor with you and live by you, should you desire such…romantic companionship." I was wary about bringing emotions into our affair, but at that moment Holmes's eyes belayed a tenderness that I had thought the other man was devoid of.
"Oh, thank God," said Holmes, letting out the breath that he had been holding. He reached for me and our lips met. Our kissing gradually grew fevered, and when we broke apart for air he smirked at me, returning to a semblance of his usual self.
"The game, I regret, is afoot." We then had no choice but to leave our quarters and soon we had boarded the ship and were on our way to the location indicated by the letter. The waters were rough and we spent most of the voyage in flight, attempting to arrive with all due speed. Holmes and I stood outside on deck, hoping to catch sight of another vessel and standing close to one another. It was only when the island came into sight that we became aware of another ship docked at the landmass.
"It appears as though we are arriving just in time," said Holmes, looking pleased with the manner in which our investigation was proceeding. "Let us take cover. It is most likely that the crew will not be pleased by our presence."
Holmes was not in error. As we approached we heard disorganized shouting, but our vessel had been prepared for the attack and had the advantage of firing first as we lowered our altitude. Being airborne increased the damage of our shots and made it exceedingly difficult for the other vessel to hit its mark. Surrender was quick, and we suffered few damages.
Our men quickly boarded the deck of the other ship, bringing the crew under our control and confining them to the brig. It was a large crew, but even with their numbers and their powerful vessel they had little chance against our own sturdy craft. Holmes and I stood on deck watching the proceedings before he turned to face me.
"To the island," Holmes said, his hand brushing against mine warmly. "Given the erratic and confused behaviour of the crew during our attack, it seems likely that some of the commanding officers are still on land."
We descended from the ship quickly by the ladders, alerting several of our men to come with us. The air was cold and I pulled my jacket more closely around me. It was growing dark outside and it had begun to drizzle; the rain was quick to dampen my hair and clothing. The island itself was remarkably small, but the large, scraggly caverns upon it reached high into the sky, casting dark shadows upon the sand where we stood. There was an obvious opening in the rock nearby and I followed Holmes into the shadows, pulling out my torch and flicking it on. It cast a light into the narrow space between the rocks. The walk through the breach was treacherous and more than once I almost lost my footing on the jagged stones.
Moments into our trek we heard voices from far off. Holmes pulled out his aether gun, preparing for a confrontation. A few steps later the passage opened up into an immense cavern, and it was easy to spot the two men who stood at the far wall. Their loud speech silenced our approach.
"Gentlemen!" cried Holmes, as we held up our guns to the two strangers, forcing their retreat. "I suggest that you make no attempt at resistance. Your vessel is already under our command."
The men we had come with made quick work of the two strangers, one of which turned back to shout at us. "Sherlock Holmes?" he said, in an aggravated tone. "Surely only such a man would have followed me here."
Holmes approached the other man, taking in his attire. "James, I suppose? Would you be so kind as to provide me with a last name?" The other man scoffed and spat at the ground, barely missing Holmes's feet before he was dragged away by the men who had come with us.
Holmes took a moment to examine the cavern before returning to the ship. "Awfully barren isn't it, Watson?" Indeed it was. There appeared to be nothing of value in the cave. In fact, the only object that stood out was a chest that James and the other man had been standing by. Holmes swung the coffer open. It was empty aside from a slip of paper, and Holmes smirked as he read it.
Dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,
I regret to inform you that you have arrived too late. Better luck next time, and all the best should you have arrested the man who attempted to rob me.
Yours,
Irene Adler
Holmes looked bitter as he read the note, for although we had captured one man and his crew, another pirate was free.
"I suppose this shall be for another time," he said and I nodded in response, looking forward to our future work together. We headed back to our ship shortly, and I could have sworn that I saw a tinge of admiration in Holmes's eyes. It was, after all, one of the few moments that I had seen him defeated.
***
When we arrived back in London, Holmes was quick to bring an end to the investigation. We wired Lestrade and soon the three of us were in our living quarters with several other men in order to ensure that James would not escape. Holmes turned on his recording device.
"It is quite a simple story," said James, and we would only later learn of his last name. He was quite willing to talk, given the disappearance of the treasure and the crimes already held against him. He seemed smug for a man in his position. "About a week ago my crew and I captured a small pirate vessel on our way from France to England. It was a rather difficult battle and we suffered many casualties, but the attack had been worthwhile. At first it seemed as though our efforts had been wasted. The ship itself held little interest and was devoid of anything of value. We returned to Newhaven quickly, hoping to re-stock supplies and replace the members of our crew that had perished. One of the captured crewmembers, however, revealed that the captain, a man named Adler, and the first-mate had been hiding their plunder after each escapade, hoping to avoid being robbed. It took several days of convincing the first mate to reveal his knowledge for us to learn that the vessel had only appeared poor because it had been storing much of its treasure on the island at which you seized me. He also told us that they had intended to soon take the treasure and flee to live a comfortable life on land."
Holmes nodded rapidly, urging the other man to continue.
"At the time we had not realized that the captain of the ship had abandoned the vessel during our siege. It is clear, now, that he was in fact alive and well. I am not sure how Adler made his way back to shore, although it is feasible that a French vessel found him not long after our departure, which is quite unfortunate. We received information that Adler had been spotted in the French ports and grew increasingly worried that he intended to recover the treasure and flee. Little did we know, he had already made his way to Newhaven. He had no doubt intended to neutralize us at shore before we headed out to sea, for our vessel was quite powerful. When I went out that night I had the misfortune of encountering Adler, who was quick to render me unconscious. I believe that he injected a hallucinogenic drug into my bloodstream, and I spent the night wandering in a drugged stupor, giving Adler the necessary time to arrive at the island before us."
Holmes smirked at Moriarty's blindness to Adler's true gender before making one last inquiry.
"And what of Admiral Moran? He must have had informants in the French ports who let you know of Adler re-assembling a crew and setting back out towards England. I assume that he provided protection for your pirate vessel so that you may more easily achieve your criminal goals? You must have been willing to offer him a valued portion of your shares."
James nodded, surprised by Holmes's insight into the situation. The police were quick to apprehend the man when he had finished speaking, although little did we know that it would not be the last that we would see of him. His words had equally condemned Admiral Moran.
We were left to ourselves in our cosy rooms, and when Holmes and I looked at each other I felt a rush of exhilaration rush through my body in anticipation, for there was heat in his gaze.
"Viens, Watson" said he, guiding me towards the bedroom, willing to momentarily put aside James's smug behaviour. "Je ne sais pas ce que je ferais sans toi. Sait que tu m'es plus important que mes affaires criminelles, et que je ne pourrais pas bien vivre sans ta présence.[2]"
It was only later that I learned the meaning of his words.
[1] Oh God, yes.
[2] Come, Watson. I do not know what I would do without you. Know that you are more important to me than my criminal cases, and that I could not live easily without your presence.