I don't care who you are or where you are or what you're doing, put down the bowl of soup or the paintbrush or the surgical implements from the brain surgery you're performing, let go of the steering wheel, leave the baby on the changing table (he'll be fine!) and
go read toft's new story, read it now now now.
What do you need to know other than that
toft wrote it for
kink_bingo? How about, it's Sherlock Holmes fic, Holmes/Watson, incredibly delightfully Victorian (which is to say kinky as all get out), and it made me laugh and laugh and made my heart clench and my breath catch.
It's called
Homo Ex Machina, and if you don't read it you can't sit with me at lunch anymore.
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