Fic: I'll Kill You If You Don't Come Back (NC-17)
Author: romanticidiot
Recipient: shes_gone
Title: I'll Kill You If You Don't Come Back
Rating: NC-17 for safety but more likely R, as I fail.
Warnings/additional pairings: Sex and background Mary/Watson, I guess.
Summary: Things escalate out of control when Mary and Watson head to Baker St at the end of the movie.
Word Count: Approx 2100.
Disclaimer: All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Author's Notes: I hope this is okay. Stole quotes from all over the place, and I recommend listening to Meatloaf's 'I'll kill you if you don't come back' but it's not a songfic, I promise. Also, I was as cunning as a fox who escaped from the university of cunning with a degree in cunning, to avoid declarations of love :)
****
One of the things Watson loved most about Mary was that she didn't prod into his thoughts. He could carry on a conversation with her using only half his attention, and she wouldn't inform him what he was really thinking about. Which was very useful when they went to visit Holmes shortly after the Blackwood case, because Watson was in the middle of quite a serious crisis and could only spare half his attention for discussing curtains with Mary.
He felt Holmes' keen eye on him the entire visit, until Mary left for home, and a silence settled on the living room.
'Well,' Holmes said eventually. 'That went rather better than you expected, did it not? No gauntlets or wine were thrown. The house is still intact. And you are still engaged.'
'Yes,' Watson agreed and poured them more tea. 'You were charming and witty, and had her quite enthralled. Therefore I thank you for suppressing your natural personality.'
'You're quite welcome, Watson,' Holmes replied graciously. 'She is a shining star in the firmament.'
Watson snorted.
'Oh come now, Holmes. You dislike the woman immensely, please don't play games.'
Holmes raised an eyebrow.
'Don't you think she is stunning, Watson? I say, you are marrying the girl, I would have thought you would sing her praises more.'
Watson tensed.
'Holmes, I am warning you -' he began.
'Watson, I am merely trying to do as you asked, and support you,' Holmes interrupted. 'If you wish me to do so, I must compliment the girl, must I not? I doubt you will allow me to remark on the unpleasing tilt of her mouth, or the stiffness in her joints, presumably from the piano, or her questionable taste in shoes.'
'Holmes -'
'As it is, I see these things but do not comment on them because you do not wish to see her imperfections. As it happens, I think Miss Morstan is one of the more charming creatures of her gender I have met, and I am glad you have chosen someone like her. She is deserving of you, even if you are not of her.'
'Excuse me?' Watson sputtered.
'Which bit do you object to, my dear fellow?' Holmes asked, lighting a pipe. 'The fact that I approve of Miss Morstan, or the suggestion that you do not deserve her?'
'Of course I don't deserve her,' Watson snapped. 'I just had not thought to hear you say so.'
'Well,' Holmes said. 'I have seen a side of her that I approve of, and I am pleased that you have made this match.'
'Oh,' Watson replied, strangely disconcerted, and sank back into his chair.
Holmes observed him in his peripheral vision, an odd glint in his eye. He puffed a while longer on his pipe, examining the expressions on his companion's face. Watson was definitely upset about something, though he was taking pains to hide it. Lines around his eyes were drawn tight, and there was a tightness to his jaw that suggested he was clenching his teeth.
'Something has upset you,' he said eventually. Watson shook his head absently.
'No, Holmes,' he replied. 'I am ... glad that you are no longer upset over my leaving.'
'Oh, I apologize for that,' Holmes said. 'I am most unaccustomed to change, you see, but given enough time and more data, I am convinced that Miss Morstan will make you a suitable wife.'
'I see,' Watson said and gave a slow nod. And then another. 'Thank you.'
'You're most welcome, dear boy,' Holmes returned cheerfully. 'Now, is there anything you have left behind?'
'Hm? Oh, no, I don't think so,' Watson replied. He looked dazed, as he gazed around the room, his eyes not settling on anything.
'Well, in that case, I will return to my work, if you do not mind. You are welcome to stay, but I have some research for my client to do and I have tarried long enough.'
'Oh,' Watson said softly. 'You have a new case?'
Holmes glanced over briefly as he bent over his workstation.
'Yes,' he replied. 'But it is a trifle. A woman's husband is apparently involved in - well, I can't say anymore. Confidentiality, you understand.'
'Of course,' Watson said quietly, but it felt like a door being slammed in his face. 'I will take my leave, then.'
He slowly gathered up his hat, coat and walking stick, moving in the manner of a man who is deeply overwhelmed.
'Good day, Watson,' Holmes added, attention on a small beaker. 'Oh, Watson?' he said, as the doctor had his hand on the door. 'Would you just answer me one question?'
'Of course, Holmes,' Watson responded.
'Why are you marrying this girl?'
Watson's hand clenched reflexively on the door handle. The innocent question felt like a trap. Holmes didn't look up from his experiment as he spoke; the question could have been about the state of the weather for all the attention he paid it.
'She loves me,' he replied, against his better judgment.
'Others have loved you,' Holmes said, 'but you didn't run away with them.'
'I am not running away,' Watson protested.
'Why are you marrying this girl?' Holmes repeated. 'I only want one good reason. It can't be that hard.'
'I love her,' Watson informed him. Holmes waved a negligent hand.
'You loved the others, too,' he reminded him.
'She is beautiful,' Watson tried.
'That remark is unworthy of you,' Holmes informed him. 'Try again, please.'
'I don't need to prove myself to you!' Watson exclaimed. Holmes' eyes glinted as he looked up from his work for the first time.
'Of course not,' he said mildly. 'This is only a friendly inquiry from someone who is curious. You know I have no interest in the tender feelings, I wish only to understand. Please, indulge me.'
Watson surveyed him uncertainly.
'She is refined,' he said. 'She is intelligent, and amusing, and kind, and sensitive.'
He paused, but Holmes just motioned him to continue.
'She likes children, she enjoys company, she speaks quietly when I have a headache, she is interested in my work, and she is trustworthy.'
'All the things I am not, then,' Holmes broke in. Watson fixed his gaze on him.
'She respects me,' he said.
'I respect you,' Holmes said.
'She is loyal to me,' Watson added.
'I am loyal to you,' Holmes said, frowning.
'She leaves my things where they are,' Watson said with a raised eyebrow.
'We have a barter system,' Holmes cut in.
'She doesn't purposely insult people.'
'People just can't accept their faults.'
'She grooms.'
'I groom!'
'She is not challenging.'
'You enjoy a challenge.'
'She loves me, Holmes,' Watson spat as his final blow.
Holmes said nothing, and Watson felt hollowly as though he had won.
'I-' Holmes began eventually, but Watson cut him off.
'No, Holmes,' he exclaimed forcefully, catching Holmes off-guard. 'You won't do this now. I waited, Holmes, I waited. I thought - you must know, because you know everything - and you did nothing, so you don't get to do this now, when I have finally moved on.'
Holmes was in front of his table of experiments in the blink of an eye.
'Watson,' he said in a low voice. 'Would you please listen to me? I lo-'
'No!' Watson repeated. 'I don't want to hear that. Say - say anything you like, but you will not say that to me.'
'Then what shall I say, then?' Holmes demanded with a flash of his eyes. 'What do you want to hear? I wanted you from the moment I turned and laid my eyes on you. You were something to see, so very young and alone. I gave you somewhere to live, Watson. I gave you someone to love, but apparently I have been a fool.'
'Holmes -' Watson tried, taking a step forward, his hand outstretched. Holmes flung himself away, his temper rising along with the flush in his face.
'Tell me what you want to hear, Watson!' he commanded.
'I don't want to hear anything,' Watson shot back. 'I want to go home to my fiance and have her make me tea, and forget about Baker Street, and Sherlock Holmes.'
There was a ringing silence in the room. Watson saw Holmes swallow, his hands clenching.
'Then you had better go, Watson,' he replied eventually. 'Take the rest of your stuff; don't bother to pack.'
Watson turned to the door again, his shoes shuffling on the floor.
'Oh and Watson?' Holmes called, seconds before the door closed. 'I will kill you if you don't come back.'
Watson pulled the door closed with a slight bang and sagged back against the wood as though it were the only thing holding him up. His hands were shaking, he realized, as he raised them to put on his hat. He heard movement inside the room but he refused to wonder what the man was doing. He purposefully put one foot in front of the other, until he was half way towards the door.
Then a crash came from above and he was darting back up the stairs before the thought had reached his brain. He threw open the door to find Holmes sitting in one of the armchairs, a broken teapot lying forlornly in the corner. He started as Watson entered, and half rose, but Watson was slamming the door and striding across the room before he could complete the movement.
'Unfortunately,' he growled as he pushed the man back into the upholstery, 'there is no forgetting Sherlock bloody Holmes,' and kissed him hard, muffling Holmes' cry with his mouth, and trapping his hands above his head.
'Watson,' he gasped. 'Watson, please ...'
'What?' Watson demanded impatiently, pulling away from a glistening nipple.
'Let me touch you,' he said. 'I've waited a long time.'
Watson stared at him for a moment and then roughly released his grip on the detective's arms. Instantly, the man's hands were everywhere, pulling at his hair, raking down his back, and pulling him closer. Holmes panted into his ear as desperate moans escaped his lips. The sound went straight to Watson's groin, fueling his uncoordinated fumbling with Holmes' belt. The sound Holmes made when his hand finally made contact nearly hurtled Watson to a premature conclusion as the detective arched his back, pushing up further into his grasp. Watson's name fell from his lips, mixed with 'God' and 'oh please more', and Watson's head was spinning.
He ground his hips down to Holmes', causing him to shiver and gasp. Watson bowed his head into Holmes' shoulder as he stroked him, listening to the delicious sounds emenating from those perfect lips.
'Watson,' Holmes groaned out eventually. 'I'm - oh! Watson - John ... John!'
Watson was so rarely John to anyone anymore he sometimes forgot he had a first name at all. The sound of that name on Holmes' lips, infused as it was with desperation and lust, it took him only a few more thrusts before he was coming in his pants like a teenager.
He collapsed atop Holmes like he was a puppet and someone had cut his strings. They lay together panting until the cooling stickiness between them became so unpleasant something had to be done. Without a word, Watson shucked off his pants, while Holmes brought him a cloth. The awkward clean-up over, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room until Holmes finally came to sit beside Watson on the couch.
'So what happens now?' he asked.
Watson sighed and rested his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes.
'I don't know,' he admitted. He felt Holmes move and opened his eyes to find a familiar pair staring back at him. The image made him smile reflexively and he tentatively reached out and lay a hand on Holmes' thigh. He was relieved when a warm hand came to rest upon it a moment later.
'You will fix things, though, won't you?' the detective asked. Watson shrugged.
'As soon as I think of a way, I suppose.'
Holmes grinned.
'Perfect. It seems we both have a case, then,' and he kissed Watson quickly and familiarly, like they had done this a thousand times before. Then he was gone, gathering his clothing and making himself presentable. Watson hesitated for just a moment, watching him, and then copied.
'Are you ready, Watson?' he asked, just before they stepped from the room.
'Just a moment,' Watson replied, and straightened Holmes' jacket. Then he pushed him against the door frame and kissed him thoroughly. 'There,' he said, pulling back. 'Now I'm ready.'
Recipient: shes_gone
Title: I'll Kill You If You Don't Come Back
Rating: NC-17 for safety but more likely R, as I fail.
Warnings/additional pairings: Sex and background Mary/Watson, I guess.
Summary: Things escalate out of control when Mary and Watson head to Baker St at the end of the movie.
Word Count: Approx 2100.
Disclaimer: All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.
Author's Notes: I hope this is okay. Stole quotes from all over the place, and I recommend listening to Meatloaf's 'I'll kill you if you don't come back' but it's not a songfic, I promise. Also, I was as cunning as a fox who escaped from the university of cunning with a degree in cunning, to avoid declarations of love :)
****
One of the things Watson loved most about Mary was that she didn't prod into his thoughts. He could carry on a conversation with her using only half his attention, and she wouldn't inform him what he was really thinking about. Which was very useful when they went to visit Holmes shortly after the Blackwood case, because Watson was in the middle of quite a serious crisis and could only spare half his attention for discussing curtains with Mary.
He felt Holmes' keen eye on him the entire visit, until Mary left for home, and a silence settled on the living room.
'Well,' Holmes said eventually. 'That went rather better than you expected, did it not? No gauntlets or wine were thrown. The house is still intact. And you are still engaged.'
'Yes,' Watson agreed and poured them more tea. 'You were charming and witty, and had her quite enthralled. Therefore I thank you for suppressing your natural personality.'
'You're quite welcome, Watson,' Holmes replied graciously. 'She is a shining star in the firmament.'
Watson snorted.
'Oh come now, Holmes. You dislike the woman immensely, please don't play games.'
Holmes raised an eyebrow.
'Don't you think she is stunning, Watson? I say, you are marrying the girl, I would have thought you would sing her praises more.'
Watson tensed.
'Holmes, I am warning you -' he began.
'Watson, I am merely trying to do as you asked, and support you,' Holmes interrupted. 'If you wish me to do so, I must compliment the girl, must I not? I doubt you will allow me to remark on the unpleasing tilt of her mouth, or the stiffness in her joints, presumably from the piano, or her questionable taste in shoes.'
'Holmes -'
'As it is, I see these things but do not comment on them because you do not wish to see her imperfections. As it happens, I think Miss Morstan is one of the more charming creatures of her gender I have met, and I am glad you have chosen someone like her. She is deserving of you, even if you are not of her.'
'Excuse me?' Watson sputtered.
'Which bit do you object to, my dear fellow?' Holmes asked, lighting a pipe. 'The fact that I approve of Miss Morstan, or the suggestion that you do not deserve her?'
'Of course I don't deserve her,' Watson snapped. 'I just had not thought to hear you say so.'
'Well,' Holmes said. 'I have seen a side of her that I approve of, and I am pleased that you have made this match.'
'Oh,' Watson replied, strangely disconcerted, and sank back into his chair.
Holmes observed him in his peripheral vision, an odd glint in his eye. He puffed a while longer on his pipe, examining the expressions on his companion's face. Watson was definitely upset about something, though he was taking pains to hide it. Lines around his eyes were drawn tight, and there was a tightness to his jaw that suggested he was clenching his teeth.
'Something has upset you,' he said eventually. Watson shook his head absently.
'No, Holmes,' he replied. 'I am ... glad that you are no longer upset over my leaving.'
'Oh, I apologize for that,' Holmes said. 'I am most unaccustomed to change, you see, but given enough time and more data, I am convinced that Miss Morstan will make you a suitable wife.'
'I see,' Watson said and gave a slow nod. And then another. 'Thank you.'
'You're most welcome, dear boy,' Holmes returned cheerfully. 'Now, is there anything you have left behind?'
'Hm? Oh, no, I don't think so,' Watson replied. He looked dazed, as he gazed around the room, his eyes not settling on anything.
'Well, in that case, I will return to my work, if you do not mind. You are welcome to stay, but I have some research for my client to do and I have tarried long enough.'
'Oh,' Watson said softly. 'You have a new case?'
Holmes glanced over briefly as he bent over his workstation.
'Yes,' he replied. 'But it is a trifle. A woman's husband is apparently involved in - well, I can't say anymore. Confidentiality, you understand.'
'Of course,' Watson said quietly, but it felt like a door being slammed in his face. 'I will take my leave, then.'
He slowly gathered up his hat, coat and walking stick, moving in the manner of a man who is deeply overwhelmed.
'Good day, Watson,' Holmes added, attention on a small beaker. 'Oh, Watson?' he said, as the doctor had his hand on the door. 'Would you just answer me one question?'
'Of course, Holmes,' Watson responded.
'Why are you marrying this girl?'
Watson's hand clenched reflexively on the door handle. The innocent question felt like a trap. Holmes didn't look up from his experiment as he spoke; the question could have been about the state of the weather for all the attention he paid it.
'She loves me,' he replied, against his better judgment.
'Others have loved you,' Holmes said, 'but you didn't run away with them.'
'I am not running away,' Watson protested.
'Why are you marrying this girl?' Holmes repeated. 'I only want one good reason. It can't be that hard.'
'I love her,' Watson informed him. Holmes waved a negligent hand.
'You loved the others, too,' he reminded him.
'She is beautiful,' Watson tried.
'That remark is unworthy of you,' Holmes informed him. 'Try again, please.'
'I don't need to prove myself to you!' Watson exclaimed. Holmes' eyes glinted as he looked up from his work for the first time.
'Of course not,' he said mildly. 'This is only a friendly inquiry from someone who is curious. You know I have no interest in the tender feelings, I wish only to understand. Please, indulge me.'
Watson surveyed him uncertainly.
'She is refined,' he said. 'She is intelligent, and amusing, and kind, and sensitive.'
He paused, but Holmes just motioned him to continue.
'She likes children, she enjoys company, she speaks quietly when I have a headache, she is interested in my work, and she is trustworthy.'
'All the things I am not, then,' Holmes broke in. Watson fixed his gaze on him.
'She respects me,' he said.
'I respect you,' Holmes said.
'She is loyal to me,' Watson added.
'I am loyal to you,' Holmes said, frowning.
'She leaves my things where they are,' Watson said with a raised eyebrow.
'We have a barter system,' Holmes cut in.
'She doesn't purposely insult people.'
'People just can't accept their faults.'
'She grooms.'
'I groom!'
'She is not challenging.'
'You enjoy a challenge.'
'She loves me, Holmes,' Watson spat as his final blow.
Holmes said nothing, and Watson felt hollowly as though he had won.
'I-' Holmes began eventually, but Watson cut him off.
'No, Holmes,' he exclaimed forcefully, catching Holmes off-guard. 'You won't do this now. I waited, Holmes, I waited. I thought - you must know, because you know everything - and you did nothing, so you don't get to do this now, when I have finally moved on.'
Holmes was in front of his table of experiments in the blink of an eye.
'Watson,' he said in a low voice. 'Would you please listen to me? I lo-'
'No!' Watson repeated. 'I don't want to hear that. Say - say anything you like, but you will not say that to me.'
'Then what shall I say, then?' Holmes demanded with a flash of his eyes. 'What do you want to hear? I wanted you from the moment I turned and laid my eyes on you. You were something to see, so very young and alone. I gave you somewhere to live, Watson. I gave you someone to love, but apparently I have been a fool.'
'Holmes -' Watson tried, taking a step forward, his hand outstretched. Holmes flung himself away, his temper rising along with the flush in his face.
'Tell me what you want to hear, Watson!' he commanded.
'I don't want to hear anything,' Watson shot back. 'I want to go home to my fiance and have her make me tea, and forget about Baker Street, and Sherlock Holmes.'
There was a ringing silence in the room. Watson saw Holmes swallow, his hands clenching.
'Then you had better go, Watson,' he replied eventually. 'Take the rest of your stuff; don't bother to pack.'
Watson turned to the door again, his shoes shuffling on the floor.
'Oh and Watson?' Holmes called, seconds before the door closed. 'I will kill you if you don't come back.'
Watson pulled the door closed with a slight bang and sagged back against the wood as though it were the only thing holding him up. His hands were shaking, he realized, as he raised them to put on his hat. He heard movement inside the room but he refused to wonder what the man was doing. He purposefully put one foot in front of the other, until he was half way towards the door.
Then a crash came from above and he was darting back up the stairs before the thought had reached his brain. He threw open the door to find Holmes sitting in one of the armchairs, a broken teapot lying forlornly in the corner. He started as Watson entered, and half rose, but Watson was slamming the door and striding across the room before he could complete the movement.
'Unfortunately,' he growled as he pushed the man back into the upholstery, 'there is no forgetting Sherlock bloody Holmes,' and kissed him hard, muffling Holmes' cry with his mouth, and trapping his hands above his head.
'Watson,' he gasped. 'Watson, please ...'
'What?' Watson demanded impatiently, pulling away from a glistening nipple.
'Let me touch you,' he said. 'I've waited a long time.'
Watson stared at him for a moment and then roughly released his grip on the detective's arms. Instantly, the man's hands were everywhere, pulling at his hair, raking down his back, and pulling him closer. Holmes panted into his ear as desperate moans escaped his lips. The sound went straight to Watson's groin, fueling his uncoordinated fumbling with Holmes' belt. The sound Holmes made when his hand finally made contact nearly hurtled Watson to a premature conclusion as the detective arched his back, pushing up further into his grasp. Watson's name fell from his lips, mixed with 'God' and 'oh please more', and Watson's head was spinning.
He ground his hips down to Holmes', causing him to shiver and gasp. Watson bowed his head into Holmes' shoulder as he stroked him, listening to the delicious sounds emenating from those perfect lips.
'Watson,' Holmes groaned out eventually. 'I'm - oh! Watson - John ... John!'
Watson was so rarely John to anyone anymore he sometimes forgot he had a first name at all. The sound of that name on Holmes' lips, infused as it was with desperation and lust, it took him only a few more thrusts before he was coming in his pants like a teenager.
He collapsed atop Holmes like he was a puppet and someone had cut his strings. They lay together panting until the cooling stickiness between them became so unpleasant something had to be done. Without a word, Watson shucked off his pants, while Holmes brought him a cloth. The awkward clean-up over, an uncomfortable silence fell over the room until Holmes finally came to sit beside Watson on the couch.
'So what happens now?' he asked.
Watson sighed and rested his head against the back of the chair, closing his eyes.
'I don't know,' he admitted. He felt Holmes move and opened his eyes to find a familiar pair staring back at him. The image made him smile reflexively and he tentatively reached out and lay a hand on Holmes' thigh. He was relieved when a warm hand came to rest upon it a moment later.
'You will fix things, though, won't you?' the detective asked. Watson shrugged.
'As soon as I think of a way, I suppose.'
Holmes grinned.
'Perfect. It seems we both have a case, then,' and he kissed Watson quickly and familiarly, like they had done this a thousand times before. Then he was gone, gathering his clothing and making himself presentable. Watson hesitated for just a moment, watching him, and then copied.
'Are you ready, Watson?' he asked, just before they stepped from the room.
'Just a moment,' Watson replied, and straightened Holmes' jacket. Then he pushed him against the door frame and kissed him thoroughly. 'There,' he said, pulling back. 'Now I'm ready.'