Sherlock Holmes - Seven Interludes
Title: Seven Interludes
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/Victor Trevor
Disclaimer: I would run away cackling with both of them, but really, I can only bake so many cookies and knit so many blankets; they just need more love than I could offer on my own.
Summary: What it says on the tin. Seven little scenes that take place in the weeks leading up to the summer.
Spoilers: None. Well, a couple of incredibly minor ones for The Gloria Scott, but I am assuming you've read it.
Warnings: Naked Holmes. Hardcore Fluff in places. (I like how that sounds. 'Hardcore Fluff'.)
Word Count: 3000
Author's Notes: Those of you wondering about Victor's odd little... habit should know that it was all beeinmybonnet's idea. Isn't she brilliant?
Back to That's what Love Means
I.
It was true that Victor Trevor was not the wisest man who'd ever been born. But at the moment, he thoroughly considered himself one of the most privileged, and he wasn't willing to give that up over his own stupidity. Thankfully, Sherlock Holmes was fairly easy to spoil.
“What is this?” Holmes peered curiously at the full tub on the floor.
“It's a bath, Sherlock. I knew you were a grubby little heathen, but I would have thought you at least knew what they looked like.” Victor grinned.
Holmes rolled his eyes dramatically. “I know what a bath looks like. What is it doing here?”
“You bathed me when I was feeling under the weather. I thought I might return the favour.” Victor moved to check that the water was still warm. “I know how you love baths, but hate setting them up. I thought this might be something I could do for you.”
“Oh,” Holmes blushed faintly, “I, uh... this is all very kind-”
“I don't intend to stand here while you undress, I'll be just outside, you can call me when you've gotten in. I'll resist the urge to peek, though I might mention that I am at a distinct disadvantage in that area.”
“I didn't look, I promise. And if I had, well, it wouldn't really matter, because I'm clearly not disgusted or bothered or-” Holmes paused in his rambling at Victor's raised eyebrow.
“I had meant that I have difficulty not looking at you. But that was an interesting glimpse into the workings of your mind, thank you.” He smiled a small, amused smile at his friend.
A pretty blush spread over Holmes' cheeks, and he suddenly found the floor positively fascinating. “Stay.” He looked back up, and started unbuttoning his shirt purposefully. “It's probably better that you get the shock over now.”
Victor refused to even blink for the space of time it took Holmes to remove his clothes. He was loathe to blink afterwards, as well. Deciding that Holmes had given him permission to do so, he looked over the whole of his friend's body with undisguised admiration.
“Am I... all right?” Holmes looked to Victor for a judgement on his physical state. Victor gaped for a second at the absurdity of the question, and then became as serious as he ever had been.
“You are more perfect than I imagined.” He smiled softly at the man before him.
“You... you said before that I was too thin, and I thought maybe I might be a little... big?”
Several seconds passed where Victor tried to figure out what the small, slight man in front of him could possibly be talking about. In a moment of what he would acknowledge out loud only as academic curiosity, but was in reality a slightly filthy thought that perhaps he had literally gotten everything he could have wished for, he looked to the one place he had been avoiding. He forced himself not to grin stupidly, and sent a silent thank you to whoever was responsible for such things.
“I can see nothing to worry about,” Victor stated with an evenness that he impressed even himself with, “you are quite perfect all over.”
Holmes blushed and looked down again. “Umm. Thank you. Can I get in the bath now? It's cold out here.”
Victor shook himself mentally, and stepped over to the bath, holding his hand out. “Of course, please do.”
Taking Victor's hand to steady himself, Holmes climbed in and sunk down slowly into the water with a heartfelt groan. “Oh, Victor,” he squeezed the hand he was still holding on to, “this is magnificent. All is forgiven, and possibly any future indiscretions as well.” He leaned back and sighed heavily with happy satisfaction.
Victor took up a spot on the floor beside Holmes, and nearly fainted with relief when he realised the effect Holmes' enjoyment was having on him. He smiled brilliantly at his friend, and squeezed his hand back.
II.
Victor had gotten quite used to coming back to his rooms to find strange things going on. Holmes said that it was simply to do with proximity to the library and the chemical laboratories, but Victor liked to think that the other man came here so often, even when Victor wasn't there, because there was something comforting in being in the same space that someone you loved usually inhabited.
Holmes also said that Victor's settee was more comfortable, which was supposed to explain why he kept falling asleep on it during the day. Naturally, he would be covered in the jacket Victor had been wearing yesterday, because it was convenient, and the rooms were a little cold ('...and you are aware of my position on being cold, Victor...').
What he would never be able to explain, though, was the time Victor came back to find him playing with Cerberus on the floor. He had given up hope that Holmes would ever like the dog, and had accepted the truce they seemed to have come to. However, after that, there was no question about it; Holmes liked his dog, and his dog liked Holmes, and it made Victor love them both all the more.
III.
The three of them (there are three now; himself, Holmes and Cerberus, in their own little world, it feels like) sit in a little alcove as the days start getting warmer. Victor wonders if he really can wait until the break, but he knows not to change his mind on Holmes. The other man would think there was something wrong, and the last thing in the world that Victor wants is for Holmes to worry. He had almost banished the thought from his head when of all the people who might walk past, Evans does. And he's headed straight for them, with a nasty grin on his face.
“Hello, Trevor.” He nods, and Victor nods back, but Evans has already turned his attention to Holmes, and Victor wants to strangle him for it. “And you must be Holmes.” His smile is almost sincere, and for a second, Victor thinks Holmes might fall for it. But he doesn't, not Victor's Holmes.
He smiles in a way Victor only wants to see years from now, when they're comfortable together and being held down and taken will be all right between them. He suspects that is not Holmes' intention in this case, that Evans has been filed in that incredible brain as a different kind of prey. “Very astute.”
The huge blond man smiles nastily again. “Is he as pathetic with you as he was with me?”
Victor feels a stab of guilt as the big man nods at him. Guilt, and something else, something that makes him want to go and hide under a blanket with Holmes and forget his whole life before him. It isn't the first time he's thought of it, but it hit him hard just now.
Holmes, though, still looks predatory, and Victor wonders if Evans can see that. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Evans sneers. “Him - halfway through and he couldn't even get it up, then the little bastard started fighting me off.”
The look in Holmes' eyes is outright terrifying this time, and Victor hopes to never be on the receiving end. He knows Holmes has a capacity for cruelty, and he wonders just how it's about to manifest. And then the look goes away, and he seems completely calm.
“I'm sorry; did you just admit to the attempted sexual assault of another man in front of witnesses?” Holmes raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
There is a short pause, and then Evans lunges for Holmes. Unfortunately for him Holmes had seen it coming, and in what seems to Victor like a blur, the larger man is pinned to the wall with Holmes' knee dangerously close to tender parts. Holmes whispers something that Victor can't quite hear, but he suspects it was particularly embarrassing, given the look on the other man's face. Holmes lets him go, and Victor thinks that he's never seen anyone move quite so quickly without actually running. He smiles at Holmes.
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him you were a fantastic, considerate and incredibly amorous lover and it was probably just his fat backside putting you off.” Holmes smiled a tiny little smile.
“No you didn't.”
“You are quite right. But I can't tell you what I did say, because he's agreed never to so much as look at either of us again provided I don't tell another soul.”
IV.
Victor has never asked Holmes to sit for him, for a number of reasons. Chiefly, because he doesn't think he's good enough to draw someone who might actually want to see the work, and secondly because it seems like it wouldn't be worth the bother of getting him to sit still long enough even for a single sketch. Besides that, it seems a pity to stop him when he's awake.
That doesn't mean he's never drawn Holmes, of course. He makes a point of waking at first light and rendering him in his sleep, before climbing back into the bed they almost always share these days before Holmes can miss him.
Holmes, in an interesting reversal of the cliché, looks, if anything, less innocent in his sleep. Without the effect of wide, curious eyes, his tousled hair and pale features look positively debauched, and Victor would like to compare him to a fallen angel, but that would be clichéd, and he'd rather not slot the most amazing man he's ever met into a category that anyone else could occupy. It would be a fitting comparison, though.
V.
“Victor?” Holmes called into what seemed to be an empty sitting room, leaning down to pat the dog which came to greet him.
“I'm in here,” Victor's voice floated through the door to the bedroom, “but don't come in. I'll be out in a second.”
Holmes took a seat on the settee, and decided not to try to figure out what Victor was doing, if he could, from the state of the room. Victor was clearly trying to surprise him, so he would be surprised.
When a tall, elegant woman appeared in front of him, he could at least genuinely say that he was surprised. “Victor?”
The woman smiled a very familiar smile, and then turned around slowly so Holmes could get the full effect of his costume. “I suppose you could call me Victoria, for the moment.”
Resisting the temptation to mention that he'd much prefer Albert, Holmes smiled up at his friend. “Do you want me to call you that?”
“Not especially. I just thought we might get the shock over with early on.” Victor looked uncharacteristically nervous.
Holmes stood to approach him, and found that Victor now positively towered over him. He smiled up just as nervously. “Now might be a good time to mention that I am pathetic with women. Especially very beautiful ones.”
“It's lucky I'm not actually a woman, then.” Victor settled his hand's on Holmes' shoulders. “You don't mind?”
Holmes' smile turned a little shy. “Only that I'll smudge you if I try to kiss you, and that you have gotten rather tall all of a sudden. Also, you have breasts.” He levelled his line of sight straight at the new additions.
“Yes, well. They aren't actually real, but I'd look a bit strange without any, wouldn't I? I also have a tiny waist.” He looked down and swayed a little to show it off. Holmes giggled softly.
“Aren't you terribly uncomfortable?”
“Not really. I'm a little constricted, but I wouldn't classify it as a bad thing. It's all very freeing, really. The question is, are you uncomfortable? I mean at all. Because I need you more than I need this.”
A soft smile spread over Holmes' face. “I'm not uncomfortable. You are still the same person under all of this. And it looks rather good, as well.”
“Good enough that you'd take me out? Because I was thinking we might have a chance at some point in the future. I'd like people to see me as yours, even if they don't really know what they're looking at.”
“Of course. At the first opportunity, once we've left all this behind us. I would be very proud to be seen with you.” He smiled up, and then thought of something, “though perhaps you could wear flatter boots? I'm not used to feeling quite so short.”
Victor laughed, and leaned down to press a very soft, feminine kiss to Holmes' cheek. “If that is your only condition, I am more than happy to comply.”
“Not my only condition,” Holmes began with a slow smile, “the other is that someday, I am allowed to help you out of it.”
VI.
It was only after Victor had spent a solid half-hour recounting the meanings of the flowers that had been appearing in Holmes' rooms over the past week that Holmes thought to wonder why on Earth Victor would know all this. It was a further hour and three cups of tea before he decided it would be all right to ask, before he burst from curiosity.
“Victor, how is it that you know so much about flowers? You know nothing else about botany at all.”
Victor looked at him a little sadly, and Holmes wondered if his frank assessment might have been insulting, but then the other man broke into a fond smile, and Holmes thought that probably meant that Victor hadn't actually expected any more tact than usual. He worried, though, when Victor took his hand and played with his fingers for a few moments before speaking.
“Julia knew a lot about flowers.” He spoke quietly.
Holmes nodded his understanding, and felt instantly guilty for bringing up his friend's late sister. “You were closer than you let on, weren't you?”
Victor nodded sadly. “I idolised her when I was growing up. Which does not explain the dresses, I promise,” he hastened to add, “but it does explain the flowers, I'm afraid.” He smiled softly, and continued in a slightly distant tone, “but she was always receiving flowers from suitors. She used to explain the meanings to me, and tell me all about the gentlemen who had sent them. I suppose I looked up to her because she was so adored; it wasn't hard to like her.”
Holmes squeezed Victor's hand gently. “It must run in the family. How old were you when she died?”
“Sixteen,” he began quietly, “she was twenty-three. I wasn't even there when it happened.”
“I'm so sorry. I don't know what I would have done if my brother had died when I was that age.”
Victor looked up, and a slow, disbelieving smile spread across his features in a way that always made Holmes feel wonderfully warm on the inside. “You have a brother?”
VII.
It was gratifying to see, on the first morning of the summer break, that Holmes seemed to Victor to be as excited as he was, if not possibly more. Bags packed and ready, the other man stood on the train platform practically vibrating with energy and looking, as far as Victor was concerned, more attractive than ever. Apparently, he still had the capacity to be flattered by simple attention.
“Not long now,” he whispered in Holmes' ear as the train pulled up. Holmes turned to grin at him, and then took both bags as Victor picked up his dog and they made their way into the little compartment.
They started out sitting opposite each other, grinning ridiculously at the thought of getting away from watchful eyes into more comfortable surroundings, where they could be Holmes and Victor, instead of the college bicycle and the leper. Once their tickets had been checked, they drew the curtains and Holmes went to curl up next to Victor, eventually ending up in his friend's lap and letting the rhythmic rocking of the train lull him into a comfortable sleep.
As they started rattling through the countryside, Victor leaned over to open the curtains on the outside just enough to let the warm sunlight shine in. He leaned back and enjoyed his position, eyes closed and arms resting around Holmes' waist.
“You'll get a tan line down the side of your face, sitting like that.” Came the sleepy mumble from the man sitting on him. Victor giggled softly and held him a little tighter.
“I don't care. You'd still love me, wouldn't you?”
“Of course.” Holmes kissed lightly under Victor's chin. “But you'd worry that I didn't because of the strange line down your face, and you'd spend all your time alternating between looking in mirrors and avoiding them. So,” he shifted so that his own head blocked the light from the window, “I will have to protect you from it.”
“My knight in shining armour?”
“I don't know about that. Not up to slaying any dragons, today.”
“Was that a euphemism?” Victor laughed softly.
“Not sure. You might convince me later.”
“I hope to. Once I've had the chance to spoil you properly.” Victor settled Holmes' legs across the seat and shifted them both so that they were nestled in the corner. “Have a nap. I'm going to wear you out for the next two months.”
“You've already worn me out.” Holmes yawned widely.
“You did that to yourself. You won't do it while we're at Donnithorpe, though. I'll make sure you sleep and eat and relax, as you should.” Victor ran a hand through Holmes' hair.
“Oh, and I can return fat and stupid. How wonderful.”
“I don't think you're physically capable of being fat, or stupid. And to tell the truth, if I have to roll you back on to this train on our way back, I won't mind that so much either.” Victor grinned mischievously, “besides, I said I'd wear you out, didn't I? You'll work it off.”
On to Promises Kept
Author: ladylovelace
Rating: PG-13
Pairing/Characters: Holmes/Victor Trevor
Disclaimer: I would run away cackling with both of them, but really, I can only bake so many cookies and knit so many blankets; they just need more love than I could offer on my own.
Summary: What it says on the tin. Seven little scenes that take place in the weeks leading up to the summer.
Spoilers: None. Well, a couple of incredibly minor ones for The Gloria Scott, but I am assuming you've read it.
Warnings: Naked Holmes. Hardcore Fluff in places. (I like how that sounds. 'Hardcore Fluff'.)
Word Count: 3000
Author's Notes: Those of you wondering about Victor's odd little... habit should know that it was all beeinmybonnet's idea. Isn't she brilliant?
Back to That's what Love Means
I.
It was true that Victor Trevor was not the wisest man who'd ever been born. But at the moment, he thoroughly considered himself one of the most privileged, and he wasn't willing to give that up over his own stupidity. Thankfully, Sherlock Holmes was fairly easy to spoil.
“What is this?” Holmes peered curiously at the full tub on the floor.
“It's a bath, Sherlock. I knew you were a grubby little heathen, but I would have thought you at least knew what they looked like.” Victor grinned.
Holmes rolled his eyes dramatically. “I know what a bath looks like. What is it doing here?”
“You bathed me when I was feeling under the weather. I thought I might return the favour.” Victor moved to check that the water was still warm. “I know how you love baths, but hate setting them up. I thought this might be something I could do for you.”
“Oh,” Holmes blushed faintly, “I, uh... this is all very kind-”
“I don't intend to stand here while you undress, I'll be just outside, you can call me when you've gotten in. I'll resist the urge to peek, though I might mention that I am at a distinct disadvantage in that area.”
“I didn't look, I promise. And if I had, well, it wouldn't really matter, because I'm clearly not disgusted or bothered or-” Holmes paused in his rambling at Victor's raised eyebrow.
“I had meant that I have difficulty not looking at you. But that was an interesting glimpse into the workings of your mind, thank you.” He smiled a small, amused smile at his friend.
A pretty blush spread over Holmes' cheeks, and he suddenly found the floor positively fascinating. “Stay.” He looked back up, and started unbuttoning his shirt purposefully. “It's probably better that you get the shock over now.”
Victor refused to even blink for the space of time it took Holmes to remove his clothes. He was loathe to blink afterwards, as well. Deciding that Holmes had given him permission to do so, he looked over the whole of his friend's body with undisguised admiration.
“Am I... all right?” Holmes looked to Victor for a judgement on his physical state. Victor gaped for a second at the absurdity of the question, and then became as serious as he ever had been.
“You are more perfect than I imagined.” He smiled softly at the man before him.
“You... you said before that I was too thin, and I thought maybe I might be a little... big?”
Several seconds passed where Victor tried to figure out what the small, slight man in front of him could possibly be talking about. In a moment of what he would acknowledge out loud only as academic curiosity, but was in reality a slightly filthy thought that perhaps he had literally gotten everything he could have wished for, he looked to the one place he had been avoiding. He forced himself not to grin stupidly, and sent a silent thank you to whoever was responsible for such things.
“I can see nothing to worry about,” Victor stated with an evenness that he impressed even himself with, “you are quite perfect all over.”
Holmes blushed and looked down again. “Umm. Thank you. Can I get in the bath now? It's cold out here.”
Victor shook himself mentally, and stepped over to the bath, holding his hand out. “Of course, please do.”
Taking Victor's hand to steady himself, Holmes climbed in and sunk down slowly into the water with a heartfelt groan. “Oh, Victor,” he squeezed the hand he was still holding on to, “this is magnificent. All is forgiven, and possibly any future indiscretions as well.” He leaned back and sighed heavily with happy satisfaction.
Victor took up a spot on the floor beside Holmes, and nearly fainted with relief when he realised the effect Holmes' enjoyment was having on him. He smiled brilliantly at his friend, and squeezed his hand back.
II.
Victor had gotten quite used to coming back to his rooms to find strange things going on. Holmes said that it was simply to do with proximity to the library and the chemical laboratories, but Victor liked to think that the other man came here so often, even when Victor wasn't there, because there was something comforting in being in the same space that someone you loved usually inhabited.
Holmes also said that Victor's settee was more comfortable, which was supposed to explain why he kept falling asleep on it during the day. Naturally, he would be covered in the jacket Victor had been wearing yesterday, because it was convenient, and the rooms were a little cold ('...and you are aware of my position on being cold, Victor...').
What he would never be able to explain, though, was the time Victor came back to find him playing with Cerberus on the floor. He had given up hope that Holmes would ever like the dog, and had accepted the truce they seemed to have come to. However, after that, there was no question about it; Holmes liked his dog, and his dog liked Holmes, and it made Victor love them both all the more.
III.
The three of them (there are three now; himself, Holmes and Cerberus, in their own little world, it feels like) sit in a little alcove as the days start getting warmer. Victor wonders if he really can wait until the break, but he knows not to change his mind on Holmes. The other man would think there was something wrong, and the last thing in the world that Victor wants is for Holmes to worry. He had almost banished the thought from his head when of all the people who might walk past, Evans does. And he's headed straight for them, with a nasty grin on his face.
“Hello, Trevor.” He nods, and Victor nods back, but Evans has already turned his attention to Holmes, and Victor wants to strangle him for it. “And you must be Holmes.” His smile is almost sincere, and for a second, Victor thinks Holmes might fall for it. But he doesn't, not Victor's Holmes.
He smiles in a way Victor only wants to see years from now, when they're comfortable together and being held down and taken will be all right between them. He suspects that is not Holmes' intention in this case, that Evans has been filed in that incredible brain as a different kind of prey. “Very astute.”
The huge blond man smiles nastily again. “Is he as pathetic with you as he was with me?”
Victor feels a stab of guilt as the big man nods at him. Guilt, and something else, something that makes him want to go and hide under a blanket with Holmes and forget his whole life before him. It isn't the first time he's thought of it, but it hit him hard just now.
Holmes, though, still looks predatory, and Victor wonders if Evans can see that. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”
Evans sneers. “Him - halfway through and he couldn't even get it up, then the little bastard started fighting me off.”
The look in Holmes' eyes is outright terrifying this time, and Victor hopes to never be on the receiving end. He knows Holmes has a capacity for cruelty, and he wonders just how it's about to manifest. And then the look goes away, and he seems completely calm.
“I'm sorry; did you just admit to the attempted sexual assault of another man in front of witnesses?” Holmes raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
There is a short pause, and then Evans lunges for Holmes. Unfortunately for him Holmes had seen it coming, and in what seems to Victor like a blur, the larger man is pinned to the wall with Holmes' knee dangerously close to tender parts. Holmes whispers something that Victor can't quite hear, but he suspects it was particularly embarrassing, given the look on the other man's face. Holmes lets him go, and Victor thinks that he's never seen anyone move quite so quickly without actually running. He smiles at Holmes.
“What did you say to him?”
“I told him you were a fantastic, considerate and incredibly amorous lover and it was probably just his fat backside putting you off.” Holmes smiled a tiny little smile.
“No you didn't.”
“You are quite right. But I can't tell you what I did say, because he's agreed never to so much as look at either of us again provided I don't tell another soul.”
IV.
Victor has never asked Holmes to sit for him, for a number of reasons. Chiefly, because he doesn't think he's good enough to draw someone who might actually want to see the work, and secondly because it seems like it wouldn't be worth the bother of getting him to sit still long enough even for a single sketch. Besides that, it seems a pity to stop him when he's awake.
That doesn't mean he's never drawn Holmes, of course. He makes a point of waking at first light and rendering him in his sleep, before climbing back into the bed they almost always share these days before Holmes can miss him.
Holmes, in an interesting reversal of the cliché, looks, if anything, less innocent in his sleep. Without the effect of wide, curious eyes, his tousled hair and pale features look positively debauched, and Victor would like to compare him to a fallen angel, but that would be clichéd, and he'd rather not slot the most amazing man he's ever met into a category that anyone else could occupy. It would be a fitting comparison, though.
V.
“Victor?” Holmes called into what seemed to be an empty sitting room, leaning down to pat the dog which came to greet him.
“I'm in here,” Victor's voice floated through the door to the bedroom, “but don't come in. I'll be out in a second.”
Holmes took a seat on the settee, and decided not to try to figure out what Victor was doing, if he could, from the state of the room. Victor was clearly trying to surprise him, so he would be surprised.
When a tall, elegant woman appeared in front of him, he could at least genuinely say that he was surprised. “Victor?”
The woman smiled a very familiar smile, and then turned around slowly so Holmes could get the full effect of his costume. “I suppose you could call me Victoria, for the moment.”
Resisting the temptation to mention that he'd much prefer Albert, Holmes smiled up at his friend. “Do you want me to call you that?”
“Not especially. I just thought we might get the shock over with early on.” Victor looked uncharacteristically nervous.
Holmes stood to approach him, and found that Victor now positively towered over him. He smiled up just as nervously. “Now might be a good time to mention that I am pathetic with women. Especially very beautiful ones.”
“It's lucky I'm not actually a woman, then.” Victor settled his hand's on Holmes' shoulders. “You don't mind?”
Holmes' smile turned a little shy. “Only that I'll smudge you if I try to kiss you, and that you have gotten rather tall all of a sudden. Also, you have breasts.” He levelled his line of sight straight at the new additions.
“Yes, well. They aren't actually real, but I'd look a bit strange without any, wouldn't I? I also have a tiny waist.” He looked down and swayed a little to show it off. Holmes giggled softly.
“Aren't you terribly uncomfortable?”
“Not really. I'm a little constricted, but I wouldn't classify it as a bad thing. It's all very freeing, really. The question is, are you uncomfortable? I mean at all. Because I need you more than I need this.”
A soft smile spread over Holmes' face. “I'm not uncomfortable. You are still the same person under all of this. And it looks rather good, as well.”
“Good enough that you'd take me out? Because I was thinking we might have a chance at some point in the future. I'd like people to see me as yours, even if they don't really know what they're looking at.”
“Of course. At the first opportunity, once we've left all this behind us. I would be very proud to be seen with you.” He smiled up, and then thought of something, “though perhaps you could wear flatter boots? I'm not used to feeling quite so short.”
Victor laughed, and leaned down to press a very soft, feminine kiss to Holmes' cheek. “If that is your only condition, I am more than happy to comply.”
“Not my only condition,” Holmes began with a slow smile, “the other is that someday, I am allowed to help you out of it.”
VI.
It was only after Victor had spent a solid half-hour recounting the meanings of the flowers that had been appearing in Holmes' rooms over the past week that Holmes thought to wonder why on Earth Victor would know all this. It was a further hour and three cups of tea before he decided it would be all right to ask, before he burst from curiosity.
“Victor, how is it that you know so much about flowers? You know nothing else about botany at all.”
Victor looked at him a little sadly, and Holmes wondered if his frank assessment might have been insulting, but then the other man broke into a fond smile, and Holmes thought that probably meant that Victor hadn't actually expected any more tact than usual. He worried, though, when Victor took his hand and played with his fingers for a few moments before speaking.
“Julia knew a lot about flowers.” He spoke quietly.
Holmes nodded his understanding, and felt instantly guilty for bringing up his friend's late sister. “You were closer than you let on, weren't you?”
Victor nodded sadly. “I idolised her when I was growing up. Which does not explain the dresses, I promise,” he hastened to add, “but it does explain the flowers, I'm afraid.” He smiled softly, and continued in a slightly distant tone, “but she was always receiving flowers from suitors. She used to explain the meanings to me, and tell me all about the gentlemen who had sent them. I suppose I looked up to her because she was so adored; it wasn't hard to like her.”
Holmes squeezed Victor's hand gently. “It must run in the family. How old were you when she died?”
“Sixteen,” he began quietly, “she was twenty-three. I wasn't even there when it happened.”
“I'm so sorry. I don't know what I would have done if my brother had died when I was that age.”
Victor looked up, and a slow, disbelieving smile spread across his features in a way that always made Holmes feel wonderfully warm on the inside. “You have a brother?”
VII.
It was gratifying to see, on the first morning of the summer break, that Holmes seemed to Victor to be as excited as he was, if not possibly more. Bags packed and ready, the other man stood on the train platform practically vibrating with energy and looking, as far as Victor was concerned, more attractive than ever. Apparently, he still had the capacity to be flattered by simple attention.
“Not long now,” he whispered in Holmes' ear as the train pulled up. Holmes turned to grin at him, and then took both bags as Victor picked up his dog and they made their way into the little compartment.
They started out sitting opposite each other, grinning ridiculously at the thought of getting away from watchful eyes into more comfortable surroundings, where they could be Holmes and Victor, instead of the college bicycle and the leper. Once their tickets had been checked, they drew the curtains and Holmes went to curl up next to Victor, eventually ending up in his friend's lap and letting the rhythmic rocking of the train lull him into a comfortable sleep.
As they started rattling through the countryside, Victor leaned over to open the curtains on the outside just enough to let the warm sunlight shine in. He leaned back and enjoyed his position, eyes closed and arms resting around Holmes' waist.
“You'll get a tan line down the side of your face, sitting like that.” Came the sleepy mumble from the man sitting on him. Victor giggled softly and held him a little tighter.
“I don't care. You'd still love me, wouldn't you?”
“Of course.” Holmes kissed lightly under Victor's chin. “But you'd worry that I didn't because of the strange line down your face, and you'd spend all your time alternating between looking in mirrors and avoiding them. So,” he shifted so that his own head blocked the light from the window, “I will have to protect you from it.”
“My knight in shining armour?”
“I don't know about that. Not up to slaying any dragons, today.”
“Was that a euphemism?” Victor laughed softly.
“Not sure. You might convince me later.”
“I hope to. Once I've had the chance to spoil you properly.” Victor settled Holmes' legs across the seat and shifted them both so that they were nestled in the corner. “Have a nap. I'm going to wear you out for the next two months.”
“You've already worn me out.” Holmes yawned widely.
“You did that to yourself. You won't do it while we're at Donnithorpe, though. I'll make sure you sleep and eat and relax, as you should.” Victor ran a hand through Holmes' hair.
“Oh, and I can return fat and stupid. How wonderful.”
“I don't think you're physically capable of being fat, or stupid. And to tell the truth, if I have to roll you back on to this train on our way back, I won't mind that so much either.” Victor grinned mischievously, “besides, I said I'd wear you out, didn't I? You'll work it off.”
On to Promises Kept