A Scandal In Watsonia - Part 1
Title: A Scandal in Watsonia
Chapter: 1. Wherein John is Besieged
Summary: AU Unbeknownst to her brother Harry Watson is The Woman, so when John finally walks in her confronting Sherlock Holmes, things turn out very different indeed.
Rating: PG-13
AN: Written for this prompt at the Sherlock Kink Meme. Hope you enjoy it, please note it is not suitable for children under 13.
Some siblings grow up to be best friends, others arch-enemies but Harry and John raced through their separate lives like commuters crammed into the tube; uncomfortably aware of the each other’s existence and both waiting impatiently for the chance to leave.
In hindsight, Harry had never been an ordinary older sister; she never bought home unsuitably pierced boyfriends with spiky hair, she never stagger back in the early morning drenched in alcohol and she never abused her younger brother. Harry, quite unlike her peers, appeared to be completely disinterested in any of the stereotypical adolescent behaviours that plague everyone else’s lives. Instead, to their parents’ approval, Harry spent her teenage years in her bedroom...studying. Perhaps if John had not been so absorbed in rugby, cadet force and other suitably manly pursuits, he would have noticed Harry’s unconventional nature must sooner.
Instead it took twenty eight years of co-existence and a ball-gag to finally bring Harry to John’s attention.
It was mid-spring and John was about to leave for the army barracks in Northumberland with the rest of his new Fusilier squad but their parents had insisted that he make a detour to London just to see Harry. Their parents, polite affable middle-class professionals, thought that constant inference in their children’s lives was the only respectable occupation for the retired. So John dutifully sped down the M25 and arrived in Belgravia just in time to miss his sister. Even if he had been planning this particularly manoeuvre, he could not have executed it better.
A red haired beauty named Kate explained that his sister was out with a client, by which John presumed she meant business client. He never bothered to discover exactly what Harry did for a living but from the money she liked to splash around it was certainly a lucrative career. He helped himself to her kitchen and then her (very nice) bedroom.
John had never been a particular perceptive man, so it took him some time to realise that his sister’s bedroom looked rather unusual. The bed, a huge Victorian monstrosity, dominated her airy, well lit room. A matching set of bedside tables stood on either side but instead of the customary alarm clock and personal effects, they sported two bronze sculptures. For a moment John thought the figures were wrestling but then he realised to his dismay that the sculptures depicted copulation and not the morally acceptable kind.
Blushing furiously he tore his eyes away from his sister’s artistic pornography only to spot a strange leather contraption lying on top of a chest of draws. It looked almost like a harness, but on closer inspection he realised there was a large ball of hard sponge in the middle. Insatiable curiosity overwhelmed his better judgement and John picked up the contraption by the leather straps to get a better look. He dropped it again immediately when he realised just want it could be used for.
A sudden horror filled sense of realisation dawned on John as he slowly pulled open a beautifully crafted drawer. The traumatised part of his psyche wanted to stuff the disturbing contraption back into the drawer and wall off this memory forever but the wicked little voice in the back of his head urged him to look inside the drawer to see if Harry had any more interesting toys.
She did have more toys, drawers and drawers of them. Leather whips, riding crops, fluffy handcuffs and face masks with zippers where the mouth should be. He didn’t realise he was shaking until he reached the last drawer, which contained an imaginative range of rounded wooden rods, some with built in small electric motors. It was only after picking one up and watching it vibrate that John was forced to realise just what their function would be.
After three long minutes for appalled silence, John’s legs finally gave way under the emotion strain and he crumpled gracelessly to the soft carpeted floor, dragging the entire drawer of vibrators out of its wood frame. The drawer tilted haphazardly causing dildos of all shapes and sizes to roll across the innocuous cream carpet. The movement set several of the automatic motors off and John suddenly found himself curled on the floor besieged by a shaking, humming mass of his sister’s sex toys.
Feeling the tenuous grip on his sanity slipping away, John summoned all of his courage and started hurling his electronic attackers back into the drawer. A less conservatively minded man might have found the entire scene hilarious but John had been bought up by firm God-fearing parents and his mind was melting in mortification. By the time he had finally managed to put the drawer away with trembling hands, John felt like an emotional shipwreck. A thousand thoughts buzzed through his traumatised mind.
Their parents would be shocked and devastated. They would disown Harry, and possibly go to an early grave from grief and shame. His own sister - a social pariah! But Harry had always been so straight-laced, the good daughter. Where, how, why had it all gone wrong?
In a split second of mental clarity, John made up his mind to take this secret to the grave. He would never mention this to another living soul. He would with stoicism and fortitude keep up appearances for his parents’ sake and if Harry ever decided to reveal her particular fetishes to the world, John would personally terminate her.
Next Chapter
AN: I have always imagined John's parents to be straight-laced middle-class professionals who go to church on Sunday and attend neighbourhood watch meetings in the village hall. It makes Harry becoming a dominatrix all the more alarming for poor John, who is evidently almost as straight-laced as his parents.
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