creepin with the sailor next door

[mustbetruth]

Island life is not as stimulating as life in London. Even with the variety of people here and the strange occurrences, Holmes finds himself feeling idle much of the time, and the lack of food of any substance or flavor or worth has left him quite unhappy and in need of a good, absorbing distraction. The best answer he could think of was to recall

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[armydoctor]

His daily walk with Nell was something Watson looked forward to, whether or not Holmes was joining him on it. He was a little disappointed he was alone today, but he wouldn't make a fuss about it. It wasn't fair of him to do that.

As he wound his way back to the cottage, Nell dancing around his feet, he was trying to work out what he would do with the rest of his day; he was surprised to see someone waiting outside the cottage. Nell also saw him; she barked before she caught a whiff of familiar scent, and ran to greet him.

"Heel, Nell. Come back here," Watson said. He didn't want Nell all over this stranger, whoever he was. Nell looked between them, puzzled, but she circled back to Watson as he came near. "Good afternoon, sir. Could I be of any help?"

[mustbetruth]

"You might be, if you're of a mind to give it," Holmes answers gruffly, slipping easily into a familiar accent common around the docks. He gives Nell a half-interested look and turns his attention back on Watson. Nell would be a problem, he realizes, but Watson hasn't put two and two together yet; it'd be better if he didn't do much to acknowledge the dog, though.

"Are you the doctor that lives here?"

Already Holmes is feeling the rush of adrenaline. Hopefully this won't fail, but he doesn't think it will.

[armydoctor]

"I am." Watson put a hand on Nell's head to steady her as he came near; he offered his hand to shake. "Dr. John Watson, at your service." Had the man knocked? Where was Holmes, if he had? Had he gone out?

Nell sniffed cautiously at Holmes's trousers, a bit confused about what was going on, but too pleased about having her people together to be seriously worried.

"Apparently my reputation precedes me. What sort of assistance did you need?"

[mustbetruth]

"Nothing too serious, Doctor," he says, shaking Watson's hand. He makes his handshake a little tighter, a little less practiced. "Benedict Brett. I've just arrived, and a fellow I came across in the big house said I might find someone from my time and place out here. You being a doctor's a bonus."

He steps closer and casts a look down at Nell, hoping she wouldn't blow his cover. She is not nearly as interested in this as she might be in a passing squirrel, so her attention is thankfully diverted.

"I was hoping you might check me out, make sure I'm in working order, make sure whoever plucked me out of that pub in London didn't do something else to me while they were at it."

[armydoctor]

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brett. You certainly seemed familiar," Watson said with a smile. In fact, the man seemed so reassuringly familiar to his own time it was rather nice to see. "Always nice to meet a fellow Londoner. You seem like you're in one piece, but I can certainly check you over."

He stepped over to the door, opening it for them. "Do come in. Nell, stay." He thought it best to keep her out of the way during this, though likely enough she wouldn't be pleased about being banished outside. Indeed, she laid down unhappily on the ground, with a small whine of protest.

"After you," he said to his guest.

[mustbetruth]

Whew, that's one obstacle easily managed. He enters the cottage and sweeps his eyes over it surreptitiously, like he's never seen it before, and he tries to slip a little of the dangerous, unfamiliar sailor into his glances about the room. Of course, any moment now, Watson might start recognizing him; certainly once he takes off Holmes's shirt, though Holmes did add a few scars and cover up a few others, just to keep things surprising.

"Nice cottage. You live here alone?" He turns around and watches Watson, waiting for some direction from the good doctor. His heart rate is definitely increasing; of all the sex games they've played, this one is the most unusual by far, and possibly the most daring, too.

[armydoctor]

"No," Watson said, slowly. He was hedging a little, he knew, but explaining his sexuality and his unconventional marriage to a man of his own time wasn't something he wished to embark on, at least not just yet. What if the man knew them by name and reputation? If they ever returned home, what if he thought to blackmail them? "No, I share the cottage with a friend of mine." Good God, but he hated that lie. "Holmes? Holmes, are you here?"

After a quick exploration of the rest of the cottage -- hardly more than ducking his head into the other rooms -- and finding himself alone with his patient, Watson returned with his medical bag in tow. He gave a friendly, brisk smile. "I'm afraid I haven't much of a proper examination room here. Let's see... perhaps you could sit down at the table, there. Unless you'd prefer to relocate to the clinic in the village, Mr. Brett?"

[mustbetruth]

"Here's just fine, Doctor," he says, hiding his small smile at Watson's reaction to his question. Maybe here's where he can have some fun with that. He pulls out a chair and seats himself, facing Watson. He keeps his expression generally polite but with a distinct hint of impishness.

"That's right. The fellow I met said you shared rooms down here. 'Sherlock Holmes' is a right unusual name, don't know how I forgot that."

[armydoctor]

"Yes, I suppose it is," Watson said, suppressing his amusement. "He's an unusual man. Speaking of him, I apologise in advance if he barges in and interrupts us."

He was laying out a few things on the table as he spoke, readying himself for the examination. It felt strange to be doing this in the sitting room, but he had performed medicine in far less sensible or comfortable surroundings. "If it's any reassurance, if you've been harmed in any way before being brought here, it would be the only such case of it to my knowledge."

Ready at last, he turned to 'Brett' with stethoscope at the ready. "If you wouldn't mind removing your shirt," he asked, politely, "we may as well begin."

[mustbetruth]

Ah. Here's where the game changes. He may have added a scar or two to his chest to add to the experience, but he highly doubts that Watson won't be able to recognize him once he takes his shirt off. While this private game has been fun, he knows anything truly enjoyable won't happen until he exposes himself (literally and figuratively). Watson won't succumb to any seduction until then.

Incidentally that is an extremely comforting thought.

Catching Watson's eye, he unbuttons his shirt and smiles, a hint of suggestion and danger about his expression. "You don't waste any time, do you, Doctor?"

[armydoctor]

Watson, who had been warming up the metal of the stethoscope with his hand, looked up in some surprise, though he was trying to hide the full extent of that expression. Possibly it was nothing at all, but it certainly sounded like a flirtation.

Clearing his throat, Watson stepped close, opting to pretend nothing was amiss. "I don't see why I ought to waste time," he said. "I take it you've arrived quite recently. Have you had any unusual pains or discomforts since then?"

He placed the stethoscope on his patient's chest, listening. Everything sounded quite fine to him in that department.

[mustbetruth]

There's something rather wonderfully splendid in how Watson's pretending as if this stranger isn't flirting with him. He does wish sometimes to be inside Watson's mind, hearing how he rationalizes these things to himself, though his face throws off enough clues at least.

"Unusual ones, no, but I cracked a rib a day or so before I turned up here. They've been hurting me some." He breathes quietly a moment, letting his chest rise and fall under Watson's touch. He's sure the process has lost any eroticism it may have had for Watson, but Holmes has always found it a strangely intimate act. "Could you give them a feel?"

[armydoctor]

"I certainly could." Watson moved the stethescope to listen to his patient's breathing from behind. All was well here, too; no congestion, no sound of fluid, no wheezing. He was a healthy individual, this Brett.

Satisfied, he set the stethoscope on the table, nodding. He would not read any more into this next task than was strictly necessary. Surely he had been imaginging that suggestive tone.

"Which side was it?" he asked.

[mustbetruth]

He sits back in his seat, largely avoiding Watson's gaze though he isn't sure how much longer he'll be able to keep up the charade. That all depends on Watson's answer to the question he realizes he ought to pose, since he can't decide whether he wants to keep the game up or skip to the realization part. He suspects it's Watson's influence that's shortening Holmes's patience.

"This side," he says, touching his right ribs lightly with his fingertips, and he adds a grimace for good measure. "Lucky for me you have a gentle touch, Doctor. I bet you take good care of your Mr. Holmes," he says, with another note of playful suggestion in his tone.

[armydoctor]

What shot through Watson was akin to terror; just who was this man? Was he merely being inconsiderate and inflammatory? Had whoever had sent him along here dropped a hint as to his and Holmes's relationship, and was Brett trying to communicate -- for whatever reason -- that he was in the know? What exactly were his intentions? Should he be preparing to defend himself now?

Whatever else, he was a patient first. Watson slipped his hand into the man's shirt, feeling cautiously down his ribs with a gentle, firm, seeking touch. He didn't feel anything out of the ordinary, at least not yet. "Let me know if there's any pain," he said. His face was drawn with concentration. In a lower voice, he added, "I must ask what you mean by that, Mr. Brett."

[mustbetruth]

Holmes has had his fun, but he senses now that he's coming into danger of stirring up Watson's anger and getting himself thrown out or possibly chaired in his not-so-cracked ribs. It would be difficult to come back from that, so he had better salvage things now; Watson seems ripe for the revelation anyway, and playing doctor as it were would be far more interesting if the doctor were in on the game.

"I mean to say that Holmes must be happy sharing a roof with an attentive, compassionate doctor like yourself, Doctor." He looks into Watson's eyes then, innuendo coloring his features as well as his voice.