And Then You’ll Be Happy. Sherlock Holmes. Watson/OMC. PG-13.
Title: And Then You’ll Be Happy
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Watson/OMC (Shelly), past Watson/Holmes and Watson/Mary
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Shelly belongs to me. Watson and all other mentioned Holmes characters belong to whoever holds the final copyright, or possibly no one, but either way they're not mine.
Summary: John Watson hires a rentboy. That's... kind of it.
Notes: Set between "The Adventure of the Final Problem" and "The Adventure of the Empty House", thus spoilers for both.
And Then You’ll Be Happy
I find myself in the unusual position of deliberately writing an account that will never be published as my others have been. Indeed, barring Christ-like resurrections, I am the only soul who will ever read the words I commit to paper at this time. This is not because I am ashamed of what has occurred and will, in a sense, occur again within the following pages. In fact, though I know most would disagree, I maintain that my course of action was the only appropriate one for the situation in which I found myself. No, my secrecy owes nothing at all to my own interpretations of the events herein recounted, but owes everything to the opinions of the society in which I find myself.
It is a grand and illustrious society, to be sure. I would not hear a word said against the British Empire by any foreign tongue or penstroke, as I hope my time in the military may testify. I love my country and my Queen as much as any country and Queen could ever desire to be loved, and if nothing else I must impress upon you that point. My dissatisfaction is not, I hope, of a treasonous nature, nor even an un-Christian one, for it lies in my objection to the illegality of actions the execution of which produce no victim. A shrewd reader, if this account were to have any readers, would doubtless have discerned by now the declared crimes to which I refer, and if they had not, what follows would certainly make them aware of my intentions. That is, of course, precisely why no one must ever read this work. It is neither treasonous nor seditious, but my security is at stake.
---
It’s not that I had never considered it, of course. Living where I did, as I did, how could it help but cross my mind? My main deterrent, I suppose, was that I’d never needed to. I had my lovely and loving wife, I had my eccentric but constant lover, what need had I for extra attention of any sort? How thoroughly we forget the ease with which our lives may be ripped away from us. Mortality may be ever on our minds and still we forget, or we choose not to see, what the effect may be should forces beyond our control choose to intervene. So it was with me.
When I met my Mary, I thought I should never want for more. The fact that I already had a lover did not stop this notion, as I confess I nearly took him for granted. He had been a constant in my life since the day we moved in together - I say a constant, for he himself remained as unpredictable as ever - and I knew that, though he would at first object to my having found a wife, he was of a temperament to allow me my marriage if he also had full access to me. When I spoke with him I found this to be the case, and his momentary jealousy was relieved by Mary’s assurances that she was content to allow us our relationship, provided I never strayed beyond the two of them and could reassure her of my attentions. These conditions I happily accepted, and our lives continued as though uninterrupted.
Of course, as we ought to have known, such a state of affairs could not endure forever. In an incident of which I have already written elsewhere, my lover was taken from me. This I could scarcely have bourne, even with the greatest support and comfort from my wife, but three months after the horrible affair she herself was taken by consumption. Doctor though I am, it came upon her so suddenly that there was nothing I could do but make her last days more comfortable than they otherwise might have been. I was thus deprived of my two dearest friends and greatest loves, within such a space of time that a more calculating man might have suspected conspiracy. Having no recourse against the Heavens, however, I resigned myself to a life alone.
I threw myself back into my practice with a fervour unmatched by any in my experience, taking on as many patients as the disastrously short hours of the day allowed. For months I did little else but work and sleep, with far more emphasis on the former. As time went on I allowed myself the occasional walk at twilight, for the purposes of clearing my head, and it was on one of these walks that I first saw her.
I saw her only from behind at first, she having leant casually against a wall facing away from me. The night was unseasonably warm, and she wore a peach-coloured dress, with a matching shawl tossed about her shoulders to hide her bare shoulders. The dress was indeed lovely, as far as I could see, but it was not that which first caught my attention. It was her hair.
There was nothing out of the ordinary in her hair’s colour, style, or arrangement, and yet the sight of it stopped me in my tracks, for it was his hair. The colour and particular wave were just exactly those of my lover, and the sight of it brought an involuntary gasp to my lips. At the sound she turned around, and I realised that the person I had taken for a woman was, in fact, a young man dressed in women’s clothes. And yet, the resemblance remained, and even deepened given full sight of his face. Looking past his unsettlingly familiar hair, I lit upon his eyes, which were bright and quick and so similar to those of my lover that I truly entertained the notion, if only for a moment, that he had come back from the dead and was disguising himself.
The sight of his mouth put that theory to rest, but for all that it left me no more settled, for it was so reminiscent of my Mary’s. The delicate bow shape, the particular quirk at the corner as when she thought me particularly obtuse, everything about it reminded me so sharply of my wife that I found myself distracted in emotion and scarcely noticed as the boy approached.
“And how might you be this fine evening, sir?”
“Very well, thank you,” I responded, for one must have a pleasant answer prepared for such a question even if the reality is quite the opposite. “I do apologise, you put me so in mind of my wife for a moment.”
He seemed pleased at the comparison. “What might your wife’s name be?”
“Mary. Her name was Mary.” How my tongue still tripped over the use of the past tense did not escape the lad, for his expression softened.
“Now it is my turn to apologise. I did not mean to cause you distress.” His smile soon turned sly, however. “Perhaps there might be some way I could make it up to you?”
I must confess the implication was lost on me for a moment, and I wracked my brain for what the youth might mean by his unprecedented offer. All too soon, however, the reality of his proposition dawned on me. Having explained to some extent the circumstances of my life at the time of the encounter, and having detailed his startling similarities to both my dearest loves, I believe my response to have been the only answer I could have made.
“Indeed, perhaps there might.”
---
We made our way to my lodgings in relative silence, as I silently thanked whoever might be listening that I had been nearly home when we met. Only briefly did I consider that what we were about to do was wrong, or would be seen so, before I dismissed the thought out of hand. Even now, with the benefit of hindsight, I would not consider the act any worse than what my lover and I had done when he was alive, and I cannot be said to have any objections to those acts.
When at least we entered my rooms and he straight away sat down on my bed, it occurred to me that we had barely made each other acquaintance. I sat down next to him on the bed, though far enough for the sake of propriety should some unexpected visitor arrive before I had the chance to lock my door. “I do beg your pardon if this is improper in these circumstances, but may I inquire as to your name?”
He laughed, brightly. “My name is Shelly. And what may I call you?”
“Wa-” I stopped, considering. “John. John will do.” While John is, of course, my Christian name, I had heard that it was best to be as generic as possible in affairs of this nature, and John was surely as generic a name as I could manage.
“John, then,” he smirked, clearly suspecting a false name. So much the better. “I trust you won’t mind?” He rummaged beneath the skirt of his dress to reveal a bag, from which he extracted a small leather case and a dark brown bottle. My heart froze. Though the case was closed and the bottle unlabeled, I had seen similar accoutrements in my vicinity before.
“No!” Before I knew myself, my hand shot up and stayed his arm. “I beg you, do not, for tonight at least.”
He appeared startled by my vehemence. “It calms my nerves. Besides that, I have discovered over my years that many men prefer me to be nonresponsive when they have their way with me. I have found morphine to be the most efficient way to ensure that.”
“I desire no such state from you!” I could scarcely believe what he was saying. “And if I did, I would encourage you to mimic such a state on your own, rather than poisoning yourself with such a drug. It may calm your nerves, but it does so at the expense of vital brain activity that one as young as yourself can ill afford to lose.”
He still looked skeptical, but slowly returned the case and bottle to the bag. “If you are sure you desire me awake…”
Horrified, now, I moved closer on the bed. “I do indeed! If that were not my wish, could I not simply do my own bidding?”
He chuckled softly. “I suppose so.” He leaned towards me, and in a moment of immense internal strength I managed to put my hand against his chest to stop him briefly.
“How old are you?”
He smiled, a quirk of his lips, but there was a sadness behind it. “Do you really want to know?”
I told myself I did, told myself it mattered, but in truth his lips had already distracted me from the question. “I suppose not,” I muttered, and let him lean in to distract me further.
---
After, as we lay together, not entirely concealed by my rough blanket, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at me seriously. “I’m sixteen, by the way. In case you were worried, you need not be.”
It should not have, but his legality did ease my mind considerably. Of course, he was still male, and an individual of negotiable affection, so that his age would hardly have been the greatest of my worries had our assignation been discovered, but it was a great relief to know that I was committing only two crimes out of a possible three for the night.
After my initial exclamation regarding his similarity to Mary, we had not discussed any motivation behind the evening. This was a great relief to me, as I do not know if I could have bourne articulating my grief for the sake of this boy I had not even properly met. Yet for all that, the night was a great comfort to my heart, allowing me to recall my wife and my lover without tears.
I have not seen him since that night, nor indeed may I say in all honesty that I wish to resume our acquaintance. Having once satisfied my base desires for company and a reminder of my departed loves, I feel myself prepared to steel myself and become once again an active participant in this great society I have neglected for so long.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Pairing: Watson/OMC (Shelly), past Watson/Holmes and Watson/Mary
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Shelly belongs to me. Watson and all other mentioned Holmes characters belong to whoever holds the final copyright, or possibly no one, but either way they're not mine.
Summary: John Watson hires a rentboy. That's... kind of it.
Notes: Set between "The Adventure of the Final Problem" and "The Adventure of the Empty House", thus spoilers for both.
And Then You’ll Be Happy
I find myself in the unusual position of deliberately writing an account that will never be published as my others have been. Indeed, barring Christ-like resurrections, I am the only soul who will ever read the words I commit to paper at this time. This is not because I am ashamed of what has occurred and will, in a sense, occur again within the following pages. In fact, though I know most would disagree, I maintain that my course of action was the only appropriate one for the situation in which I found myself. No, my secrecy owes nothing at all to my own interpretations of the events herein recounted, but owes everything to the opinions of the society in which I find myself.
It is a grand and illustrious society, to be sure. I would not hear a word said against the British Empire by any foreign tongue or penstroke, as I hope my time in the military may testify. I love my country and my Queen as much as any country and Queen could ever desire to be loved, and if nothing else I must impress upon you that point. My dissatisfaction is not, I hope, of a treasonous nature, nor even an un-Christian one, for it lies in my objection to the illegality of actions the execution of which produce no victim. A shrewd reader, if this account were to have any readers, would doubtless have discerned by now the declared crimes to which I refer, and if they had not, what follows would certainly make them aware of my intentions. That is, of course, precisely why no one must ever read this work. It is neither treasonous nor seditious, but my security is at stake.
---
It’s not that I had never considered it, of course. Living where I did, as I did, how could it help but cross my mind? My main deterrent, I suppose, was that I’d never needed to. I had my lovely and loving wife, I had my eccentric but constant lover, what need had I for extra attention of any sort? How thoroughly we forget the ease with which our lives may be ripped away from us. Mortality may be ever on our minds and still we forget, or we choose not to see, what the effect may be should forces beyond our control choose to intervene. So it was with me.
When I met my Mary, I thought I should never want for more. The fact that I already had a lover did not stop this notion, as I confess I nearly took him for granted. He had been a constant in my life since the day we moved in together - I say a constant, for he himself remained as unpredictable as ever - and I knew that, though he would at first object to my having found a wife, he was of a temperament to allow me my marriage if he also had full access to me. When I spoke with him I found this to be the case, and his momentary jealousy was relieved by Mary’s assurances that she was content to allow us our relationship, provided I never strayed beyond the two of them and could reassure her of my attentions. These conditions I happily accepted, and our lives continued as though uninterrupted.
Of course, as we ought to have known, such a state of affairs could not endure forever. In an incident of which I have already written elsewhere, my lover was taken from me. This I could scarcely have bourne, even with the greatest support and comfort from my wife, but three months after the horrible affair she herself was taken by consumption. Doctor though I am, it came upon her so suddenly that there was nothing I could do but make her last days more comfortable than they otherwise might have been. I was thus deprived of my two dearest friends and greatest loves, within such a space of time that a more calculating man might have suspected conspiracy. Having no recourse against the Heavens, however, I resigned myself to a life alone.
I threw myself back into my practice with a fervour unmatched by any in my experience, taking on as many patients as the disastrously short hours of the day allowed. For months I did little else but work and sleep, with far more emphasis on the former. As time went on I allowed myself the occasional walk at twilight, for the purposes of clearing my head, and it was on one of these walks that I first saw her.
I saw her only from behind at first, she having leant casually against a wall facing away from me. The night was unseasonably warm, and she wore a peach-coloured dress, with a matching shawl tossed about her shoulders to hide her bare shoulders. The dress was indeed lovely, as far as I could see, but it was not that which first caught my attention. It was her hair.
There was nothing out of the ordinary in her hair’s colour, style, or arrangement, and yet the sight of it stopped me in my tracks, for it was his hair. The colour and particular wave were just exactly those of my lover, and the sight of it brought an involuntary gasp to my lips. At the sound she turned around, and I realised that the person I had taken for a woman was, in fact, a young man dressed in women’s clothes. And yet, the resemblance remained, and even deepened given full sight of his face. Looking past his unsettlingly familiar hair, I lit upon his eyes, which were bright and quick and so similar to those of my lover that I truly entertained the notion, if only for a moment, that he had come back from the dead and was disguising himself.
The sight of his mouth put that theory to rest, but for all that it left me no more settled, for it was so reminiscent of my Mary’s. The delicate bow shape, the particular quirk at the corner as when she thought me particularly obtuse, everything about it reminded me so sharply of my wife that I found myself distracted in emotion and scarcely noticed as the boy approached.
“And how might you be this fine evening, sir?”
“Very well, thank you,” I responded, for one must have a pleasant answer prepared for such a question even if the reality is quite the opposite. “I do apologise, you put me so in mind of my wife for a moment.”
He seemed pleased at the comparison. “What might your wife’s name be?”
“Mary. Her name was Mary.” How my tongue still tripped over the use of the past tense did not escape the lad, for his expression softened.
“Now it is my turn to apologise. I did not mean to cause you distress.” His smile soon turned sly, however. “Perhaps there might be some way I could make it up to you?”
I must confess the implication was lost on me for a moment, and I wracked my brain for what the youth might mean by his unprecedented offer. All too soon, however, the reality of his proposition dawned on me. Having explained to some extent the circumstances of my life at the time of the encounter, and having detailed his startling similarities to both my dearest loves, I believe my response to have been the only answer I could have made.
“Indeed, perhaps there might.”
---
We made our way to my lodgings in relative silence, as I silently thanked whoever might be listening that I had been nearly home when we met. Only briefly did I consider that what we were about to do was wrong, or would be seen so, before I dismissed the thought out of hand. Even now, with the benefit of hindsight, I would not consider the act any worse than what my lover and I had done when he was alive, and I cannot be said to have any objections to those acts.
When at least we entered my rooms and he straight away sat down on my bed, it occurred to me that we had barely made each other acquaintance. I sat down next to him on the bed, though far enough for the sake of propriety should some unexpected visitor arrive before I had the chance to lock my door. “I do beg your pardon if this is improper in these circumstances, but may I inquire as to your name?”
He laughed, brightly. “My name is Shelly. And what may I call you?”
“Wa-” I stopped, considering. “John. John will do.” While John is, of course, my Christian name, I had heard that it was best to be as generic as possible in affairs of this nature, and John was surely as generic a name as I could manage.
“John, then,” he smirked, clearly suspecting a false name. So much the better. “I trust you won’t mind?” He rummaged beneath the skirt of his dress to reveal a bag, from which he extracted a small leather case and a dark brown bottle. My heart froze. Though the case was closed and the bottle unlabeled, I had seen similar accoutrements in my vicinity before.
“No!” Before I knew myself, my hand shot up and stayed his arm. “I beg you, do not, for tonight at least.”
He appeared startled by my vehemence. “It calms my nerves. Besides that, I have discovered over my years that many men prefer me to be nonresponsive when they have their way with me. I have found morphine to be the most efficient way to ensure that.”
“I desire no such state from you!” I could scarcely believe what he was saying. “And if I did, I would encourage you to mimic such a state on your own, rather than poisoning yourself with such a drug. It may calm your nerves, but it does so at the expense of vital brain activity that one as young as yourself can ill afford to lose.”
He still looked skeptical, but slowly returned the case and bottle to the bag. “If you are sure you desire me awake…”
Horrified, now, I moved closer on the bed. “I do indeed! If that were not my wish, could I not simply do my own bidding?”
He chuckled softly. “I suppose so.” He leaned towards me, and in a moment of immense internal strength I managed to put my hand against his chest to stop him briefly.
“How old are you?”
He smiled, a quirk of his lips, but there was a sadness behind it. “Do you really want to know?”
I told myself I did, told myself it mattered, but in truth his lips had already distracted me from the question. “I suppose not,” I muttered, and let him lean in to distract me further.
---
After, as we lay together, not entirely concealed by my rough blanket, he pushed himself up on one elbow and looked at me seriously. “I’m sixteen, by the way. In case you were worried, you need not be.”
It should not have, but his legality did ease my mind considerably. Of course, he was still male, and an individual of negotiable affection, so that his age would hardly have been the greatest of my worries had our assignation been discovered, but it was a great relief to know that I was committing only two crimes out of a possible three for the night.
After my initial exclamation regarding his similarity to Mary, we had not discussed any motivation behind the evening. This was a great relief to me, as I do not know if I could have bourne articulating my grief for the sake of this boy I had not even properly met. Yet for all that, the night was a great comfort to my heart, allowing me to recall my wife and my lover without tears.
I have not seen him since that night, nor indeed may I say in all honesty that I wish to resume our acquaintance. Having once satisfied my base desires for company and a reminder of my departed loves, I feel myself prepared to steel myself and become once again an active participant in this great society I have neglected for so long.