May 27th, 2010
|09:58 pm - The Wrong Bed|
Title: The Wrong Bed
Summary: Three times Watson accidentally fell asleep naked in Holmes' bed and one time it was (sort of) deliberate
Word count: ~4570
Disclaimer: Not mine
Author's notes: Guys, I wrote fic - my brain works again! Also, because I've just corrected a mistake that I should have noticed far earlier, if you spot anything that needs fixing then please let me know :) Aaand... this was going to be a kinkmeme fill but I've just noticed that the prompt requested Holmes in Watson's bed, so it's not. I might go to sleep now. I think I lied about my brain working again.
Watson, despite the fact that large amounts of alcohol were impairing his ability to think too clearly, was rather glad that Mrs Hudson was not awake to witness his drunken stumbling up the stairs at... whatever time it was. Late, he thought. Probably very late. Or very early, depending on how you looked at it. It was dark, at any rate, because he couldn't see anything whatsoever and was forced to grip the banister tightly as he climbed. Putting one foot in front of the other was damned difficult when the stairs insisted on getting in the way.
He sighed in relief when he eventually reached the top of the stairs and then swayed a little as he tried to remember what to do next. “Bed,” he decided, blinking into the dark and searching for a door. Aha, there it was. “Capital.”
By the time he’d defeated the handle, heaved the the damn thing open and then leapt to stop it slamming behind him he was in no shape to deal with anything else complicated that evening. He fumbled with his clothes in the dark and let them fall to the floor in a most untidy fashion before crawling beneath the covers, eyes shutting the moment his head hit the pillow. There was one entirely contented moment as he appreciated finally having a horizontal surface on which to lie and then he slept.
Holmes made his way up those same stairs an hour later, tired but pleased with his productive night. Despite the darkness he stumbled not once, guided by memory more than sight, and when he reached his room there was no awkward fumbling for the handle as he let himself in. He paused then though, greeted by the unfamiliar and distinctive smells of alcohol and dust that caused him some mild confusion before the explanation became apparent.
“Presumably, Watson, your night has been as enjoyable as mine,” he murmured, stepping silently closer to the bed. “Although clearly considerably more exhausting,” he added when there was not even a hint of response to his words.
A smile tugged at his lips when he saw the haphazardly arranged covers draped over Watson's middle but leaving his bare limbs pale against the sheets. “Foolish man,” he murmured with no small amount of amusement. With movements that were both quick and gentle, he reached out to tug the fabric around exposed limbs and wrap that sprawled-out form up against the cold night air. Watson snored gently through it all, outwardly oblivious to everything although he did sigh when the blankets warmed his shivering skin. He would have been surprised to see Holmes actually smile at this before retreating as silently as he had arrived.
Holmes spent the remainder of the night in Watson’s bed, that being the only option available to him unless he opted for the less than comfortable sofa in their sitting room. Save for an embarrassed apology on Watson’s part the next morning, delivered after he shuffled carefully down to breakfast feeling more than a little delicate and rather foolish, and a dismissal of the event from Holmes, that was the last of the matter for a good few months.
– – – – –
The small smile on Holmes' face widened fractionally as he strode up the stairs to their rooms, more due to anticipation than the pleasure that success brought. Whilst it had been obvious since the night before that Watson would be far better off staying inside for the next few days, suffering as he was from a rather severe cold, they had both regretted that he would be unable to join Holmes for the conclusion of the case. Given that Holmes had been deprived of his company throughout the day and that he no more liked seeing Watson ill than Watson liked being such, he was rather looking forward to recounting the matter to him that he might experience it in some small way.
“Watson,” he called out as he pushed open the door to the sitting-room, throwing the umbrella into the corner as he whipped his hat from his head. “You really did miss out -” He stopped abruptly when he realised that contrary to his expectations Watson was not where he'd left him this morning - namely, not huddled up in the chair next to the fire with a dressing gown and blanket wrapped around him. Most odd.
His brow furrowed a little when his call up to Watson's room failed to draw forth a response and, after a moment of internal debate, he draped his coat over the edge of the door and ascended the flight of steps. Silence answered both his first gentle knock and the second louder one, the reason for this becoming clear when he pushed the door open to look into an empty room. Uncrumpled sheets revealed that Watson had not been in there at all during the day, which wasn't unusual but did nothing to resolve the question of his whereabouts. It was puzzling rather than troubling – Watson hadn't been that ill when he'd left – but confusing nonetheless.
“Where the devil are you?” Holmes wondered as he shut the door and descended once more. He turned left at the bottom almost on a whim, reasoning that he may as well glance into his own room before bothering Mrs Hudson, and his eyebrows raised in surprise when his gaze alighted on Watson's form in his bed. A second later a rather greater surprise hit him as he realised that not only was Watson in his bed, he was also completely naked. The only thing preserving some small measure of his modesty was that he was laid on his front, although with his limbs splayed out as they were there wasn't much that was concealed. “Good God,” he breathed.
Initial shock was quickly replaced by an admiration that he couldn't quite control, faced as he was with gently tanned skin and scars that enhanced strong limbs rather than detracted from them, and he was almost glad when concern for his friend's well-being altered the path his thoughts were taking. Watson hadn't stirred despite the noise, was breathing somewhat heavily and shivering as well, none of which were particularly reassuring. A slight fever, Holmes suspected, and thus nothing to worry overly about. Still, he decided, it would be as well to check to ensure his condition hadn't worsened drastically throughout the day.
He breathed a small sigh of relief when a hand on Watson's forehead revealed that his temperature wasn't too much above normal. The worst of it must already have passed, he realised, and this was the slow recovery. At least the reason for Watson's presence in his bed was now apparent; at some point during the day he'd become both overly warm and tired, had stripped and headed for the nearest bed without quite realising that it wasn't his. He had to admit that he was rather glad there was a rational explanation for this wholly uncharacteristic behaviour.
“I'd appreciate a warning next time you plan to use my room in quite this fashion,” he said wryly, smiling when Watson's response was to snuffle air in through a stuffy nose and tilt his head into Holmes' hand. Almost absently, Holmes brushed damp hair carefully back from Watson's forehead before reaching down to pull the covers up and tuck them loosely around his shoulders. A sound of contentment escaped Watson as he wriggled into the warmth, a smile flickering across sleep-softened features and chasing away the shiver making its way down Holmes' spine. Too long standing around in rain-dampened clothes, he thought, but lingered a moment longer before he shook himself into action.
Watson was, for the most part, unaware of Holmes' presence and it was only when he awoke the next morning that he realised Holmes had watched over him throughout the night. Upon forcing his eyes open he was greeted with a tired smile, then the cool touch of Holmes' hand against his forehead as he leaned forwards in his chair.
“Good morning,” Holmes said as Watson blinked and tried to work out where he was. “How do you feel?”
“Confused,” he croaked, coughed and then winced as he realised that he ached all over. “Where -”
“In my bed,” Holmes said, silencing Watson with a quick shake of his head. Seeing as his throat hurt, Watson was content to remain silent. “You were here when I returned yesterday evening. I can only assume that the fever got the better of you at some point during the day. I don't suppose you remember much of it?”
“Only a little,” Watson said after a few moments. He remembered being too hot, which was presumably why he was naked now – he resisted the irrational urge to clutch the covers tightly around himself but only just – and unbelievably tired as well. The feeling of relief when he lay down on a bed was clear and he vaguely recalled slipping from consciousness, but that was the extent of his recollection of the previous day. Although...
“What is it?” Holmes asked curiously, hand coming to rest on the covers over Watson's shoulder.
“Nothing,” Watson said, letting his eyes drift shut as tiredness returned once more. “Just a dream.” What else could explain the memory of soft touches and gentle murmurs soothing him during brief moments of wakefulness, so uncharacteristic of Holmes' more reserved sympathy?
– – – – –
“Holmes, this is completely unnecessary,” Watson protested, trying to shrug free of the hands that were propelling him away from the stairs into his room and towards Holmes' own room. “I'm fine, if a little damp, and have no need of -”
“Watson, I must insist that you cease talking immediately.”
The shock of being told to be quiet made Watson's mouth snap shut as mild anger and hurt began to rise, emotions that he was aware were entirely unreasonable but could not quell. He was silent as Holmes manhandled him through the door and into the middle of the floor, stared at the ground and tried not to shiver as Holmes kicked the door shut and didn't look up even when Holmes' shoes appeared in his vision.
“You are more than 'a little damp', Watson, you're soaking wet,” Holmes said.
Yes, Watson thought. I fell in the Thames. I think congratulations are in order, don't you?
“You're freezing cold, suffering from pain in both your shoulder and leg, utterly miserable and blaming yourself for something that wasn't your fault. Incidentally, the latter is something else I require you to put a stop to immediately.”
Surprised, Watson looked up and blinked when he saw that the frustration and annoyance he'd expected weren't there. The assurance with which Holmes stated that their disastrous evening wasn't his fault was such that he couldn't even consider objecting, despite the fact that a moment ago he'd been berating himself for being a bigger imbecile than the police officers Holmes was so fond of mocking.
“It was an accident, Watson, one which you could not have foreseen,” Holmes said firmly. “If anything it is I who am at fault for failing to consider all the possibilities but in any case there is no sense in apportioning blame when we were ultimately successful.”
Mutely, Watson nodded and forced himself to see the sense in Holmes' words rather than focus on his own mistakes. It would have been more difficult if it wasn't for the fact that Holmes always sounded right, and his gaze was steadfast on Watson as if willing him to accept the truth. He gave in and mumbled, “All right.”
“Much better,” Holmes said, and offered him a quick smile before clapping his hands together and returning to his usual overly-energetic self. “Now then, Watson, I suggest we get you out of those wet clothes before the cold effects you any more. Strip, if you please.”
“Holmes, surely I should -”
“Strip, Watson,” Holmes repeated, stepping forwards when Watson didn't move and starting on the buttons of his jacket with just a touch of impatience. “I have no desire to see you develop anything worse than the cold which is undoubtedly on its way.”
As it turned out Watson had no option but to accept Holmes' assistance as his fingers were too numb to do anything other than shake along with the rest of his body. He suspected that the fact the air in the room felt warm against his skin was probably an indication of just how cold he was, and so when Holmes rubbed a towel over him that was too rough but dried him rather effectively he didn't object. By the time Holmes guided him to the bed and wrapped a blanket around him, then another, and then draped the covers over the him as well his teeth were chattering so much that he couldn't even mutter out his thanks.
“Will you be all right if I leave you for a moment to acquire some hot drinks from Mrs Hudson?”
Watson tried to say that he'd be fine, that the fact his body was shivering was a good thing and that the blankets were doing a splendid job already, but the shudders prevented him from doing so. Instead he smiled as best he could and nodded a few times, holding the blankets tighter with fingers that were just beginning to get the feeling back. For a moment Holmes looked tempted to stay but he gripped Watson's knee briefly and then left.
True to his word Holmes was only away for a few minutes, returning with two mugs which turned out to contain hot chocolate. “Mrs Hudson insisted,” was Holmes' explanation for the choice of beverage. Watson managed to extricate one mostly-steady hand from the fabric in which he was wrapped and took the mug that Holmes carefully handed to him, grateful that it wasn't filled to the brim and that the drink was warm rather than hot.
He'd drunk half of it in quick sips before he realised that Holmes was watching him over the brim of his mug, following his every movement with an intensity that would have made him self-conscious were it not for the concern evident in his gaze. Watson hesitated for only a second before deciding not to mention it, partly because Holmes wouldn't appreciate it and partly because he'd recently realised that he liked having Holmes looking at him.
That was something else he chose not to mention.
The combination of the strenuous night, the soft blankets surrounding him and the hot chocolate left Watson feeling warm and sleepy to the extent that he barely noticed when the mug was taken from his hand. Strong hands at his shoulders urged him backwards onto the bed and he went willingly, eyes drifting shut as the blankets were rearranged around him to shut out the cold of the night. “Jus' few min'tes,” he mumbled. He needed to go back to his own room at some point but staying here for a little while couldn't hurt, just until his feet had finished warming up and he'd stopped shivering completely.
With his head turned into the pillow and Holmes' scent just detectable with every breath, he was asleep and snoring gently in two minutes. He was unaware of shifting in his sleep to wrap his arms around his middle, of turning his face further into the pillow and breathing deeply, of the lines on tension on his face when he didn't find what he sought. Similarly he wasn't witness to the way he quieted and slipped into a deeper sleep when Holmes ran a hesitant hand over his hair, nor to the look of surprise with which he was regarded for several long moments.
Holmes spent the rest of the night seated on the floor with his back to the wardrobe, chin resting on drawn-up knees as he puzzled over this latest turn of events. Realisation came when the first few rays of morning light crept up the bed, over the blankets that covered Watson and up further still to play over his face until his eyes screwed up and he muttered grumpily in his sleep. Initial surprise rapidly became unabashed affection and drew a quietly murmured “Of course,” from Holmes. His words went unheard and when Watson finally awoke the only evidence that remained of the quiet revelation was a look in his eyes that Watson couldn't identify so let pass without comment.
– – – – –
With a yawn Watson closed his book and laid it on the floor beneath his chair. It was still early in the evening but he had yet to recover completely from the events of the night before; falling in the Thames in the middle of winter tended to have a lasting effect on one. “Holmes,” he called, twisting around to see that dark head bent over test tubes and flames in intense concentration. “I find myself in need of an early night. I hope you won't be too offended if I retire now and leave you to a quiet evening.”
“Hmm?” Holmes looked up, transferring his attention instantly to Watson despite the fact that he'd been so deeply engrossed in his experiment a moment before. “Of course not; I quite understand. Although I'd be obliged if I could have just a moment of your time before you go?”
“Excellent,” Holmes said, flashing Watson a smile as he extinguished the flames and set the test tubes back in the holders. “Follow me,” he said, rising and stepping towards his room.
Quite what could be in Holmes' room that couldn't wait until the morning Watson couldn't work out but he rose from his chair anyway. Holmes rarely did anything without a good reason and in any case the choice between a few more moments of Holmes' company and the solitude of his own room was an easy one.
He sent a curious glance towards Holmes, who was silently holding the door for him as he stepped in, before looking around to see if he could identify what was so important. The door clicked shut behind him, further deepening his confusion, and when he turned around he barely had a chance to register the return of that unidentifiable look in Holmes' eyes before there were strong hands on his shoulders so that he had no choice but to stumble backwards.
“Holmes, what -” he got out, and then his knees hit the bed and his hands shot out in an attempt to forestall the fall. Holmes had him flat on his back in the middle of the mattress and was kneeling either side of his hips before he could object. Irritated and completely uncomprehending, and more than a little anxious that his body might react to the heat of Holmes' body so close to his own, Watson pushed himself up on his elbows and was about to glare upwards when he was pushed firmly back into the pillows. Holmes, damn him, just held him there effortlessly until he gave up.
“Much better,” Holmes said, looking entirely satisfied with this state of affairs. “Now that you're here then, Watson, would you care to hear the results of my most recent investigation?”
Watson sighed and decided that going along with whatever this was the easiest thing to do. “By all means, enlighten me.” Perhaps whatever Holmes had to say would distract him from the fact that those hands were now resting on his shirtsleeves and providing him with a tantalising hint of what they'd feel like curled around his arms. Frankly he doubted it; a vivid imagination was beneficial when it came to writing but distinctly unfortunate at other times.
“Have you noticed, Watson, that you've taken to sleeping in my bed rather more frequently of late?” Holmes asked conversationally.
“Yes,” Watson said, still mystified. Was this to be some sort of reprimand for something that was entirely accidental? “I've already apologised for that though, and you have to concede that I wasn't really in my right mind on any of those occasions.”
“My point exactly.”
Dammit, Watson thought, he was going to have to throw pride to the wind and admit his continuing incomprehension. If it was any other day then he would attempt to reason it out but it would be decidedly unwise to spend any more time with Holmes kneeling above him, half in shadow from the dim lamplight and wearing that wholly insufferable look of knowledge that suited him so well. “Do tell,” he invited with a sigh.
Holmes inclined his head briefly before launching into his explanation. “When you are ill or otherwise incapacitated, you seek my bed out. Several explanations present themselves immediately, the most obvious one being as you have just stated; a simple mistake. We must also consider the fact that my room is more accessible than yours and also, I believe, that there is a certain sense of security knowing that at some point I will return to watch over you?”
Bemused, Watson nodded. Not a reprimand then, but what, and when was Holmes going to get to the point of this bizarre conversation?
“Bear with me, Watson,” Holmes said with a smile and a brief pat of his arm. It was fortunate, Watson thought, that he was so accustomed to these casual touches or he'd have a far more difficult time controlling himself. “Whilst the aforementioned reasons are all perfectly valid, I think you'll agree that they fail to completely explain your actions.” Watson froze at that, panic rising as he contemplated the awful thought that somehow Holmes knew exactly what determined his actions when his conscious mind wasn't in control. “After all, in our early acquaintance I can bring to memory numerous occasions on which you managed to climb those stairs despite your ill health,” Holmes continued, and despite the blithe tone with which he spoke Watson was horribly aware of that sharp gaze watching his every reaction. “It took some thought but I believe I have finally arrived at the correct conclusion.”
“Don't,” Watson managed to croak out past a dry throat and an overwhelming sense of imminent destruction. “Holmes -”
“You like being there,” Holmes said, sparking fear in Watson as he tried to free himself of hands that were suddenly tight on his arms and preventing his escape. “You enjoy the feeling of being closer to me even if it's only in a small way, and at least whilst you're there you can pretend that we're curled up together and for some other reason than that you're ill.”
Cursing, Watson shut his eyes and missed the look that crossed Holmes' face when he realised that his words had been misunderstood. The first he knew of it was when he felt the long lines of Holmes' body settle against his own, surprisingly solid warmth pressing him into the mattress as fingers closed around his wrists and stroked gently. “I realised something else, Watson,” Holmes said quietly. “I like having you in my bed, whether your presence there is accidental or not.”
Watson almost didn't dare breathe when he opened his eyes and found Holmes' face only inches above his own, scared that if he moved at all then everything would vanish and he'd lose those grey eyes and dark hair and most of all that beautiful look of slight insecurity lurking behind the confidence. “I mean it,” Holmes said before Watson could seek clarification. “As more than a friend Watson, although that too, I want you.” Watson's breath caught at that and Holmes smiled, slipped his hands into Watson's and leaned their foreheads together in a display of casual intimacy that threatened to undo Watson completely. “I can only apologise for not realising sooner,” Holmes said. “I had no plans to have any romantic feelings for you and thus failed to recognise them when they developed regardless. You seem to have worked your way into my affections without my knowledge and I can't say that I mind awfully.”
Watson's hands were clenched tightly around Holmes' by the time he'd finished speaking, completely overwhelmed by the sheer unexpectedness of Holmes' words and the depth of emotion he was expressing. There was nothing he could think of to say but he didn't think he needed to speak, stroked his thumbs over the back of Holmes' hands in mute acknowledgement and thanks for all that he'd just revealed. A slight shiver passed through Holmes at that and drew Watson from his shock as he realised that finally he and Holmes were in the same bed and they were doing none of the things which were no longer restricted to his dreams.
“And now that you've reached this realisation?” he said, slightly embarrassed at quite how unsteady his voice was.
Holmes drew back slightly and let his gaze slide over Watson's chest, returning to his face with an expression that was affection mingled with heat in the most devastating way. “I intend to ensure that you never sleep anywhere else.” His hands tightened in Watson's as he leaned back down, tangling their fingers together as his breath rushed hot over Watson's lips. “With that in mind, and given that I have a desire for these new arrangements to begin immediately, I plan to do things to you tonight that you've only dreamed of, often and repeatedly until you collapse out of sheer exhaustion and can do nothing other than sleep until I wake you.” He paused almost teasingly for a moment. “Unless, of course, you have any objections?”
“Objections?” Watson said weakly. Holmes expected him to object to the promise of all that he'd wanted for months? “Only that you haven't kissed me yet.”
“Easily rectified,” Holmes murmured, and slid his lips over Watson's with a gentleness that had him closing his eyes to hold back the tears.
This time when Watson fell asleep in Holmes' bed it was the result of hours of deliberate and skilled manipulation of his body, of whimpers and murmurs in the dark as strong hands held him down and a hard body lifted him high, of indescribable pleasure that left him crying out as it washed over him countless times. By the time Holmes had stroked him to release yet again there wasn't a limb that wasn't shaking and he barely managed to keep his eyes open to watch as Holmes reached his own release, shuddering in Watson's arms as their mouths met once more. Tears threatened to fall again as consciousness slipped away because he didn't want to sleep now, not when he'd seen what his life with Holmes was going to be like from now and he hadn't had nearly enough of it yet, but he was soothed by the feel of Holmes still buried inside him and the murmured promise that they'd both still be there in the morning. True to his word, they were.
I truly, honestly love this. I get so excited when you post fic and I am yet to be disappointed, and this is especially awesome.
I mean, it's like a big ball of brilliant h/c and then it gets to the good bit where no-one is sick or injured. Best of both worlds. :D
Aw, thank you so so much. I always worry a little about disappointing people (although less so now - if I write fic I like then I'm proud of it!) but it's good to get such a positive reaction :D So thank you :)
It does have a h/c vibe to it doesn't it? I honestly didn't write it like that but if it works then I don't mind!
This is truly delicious and I just adore your Holmes voice. It's so good, and poor Watson misunderstanding almost right until the very end... *happy sigh* Love it very much :)
I have a bit of a thing for Watson expecting the worst and then being given the best. I'm glad I'm not the only one who appreciates it! Regarding Holmes, and I know I've said this before, he's brilliant to write and I love doing so. I'm glad people like how he turns out.
Thank you very much for the lovely comment!
I know Watson is the doctor but I can't imagine Holmes being completely useless when it comes to looking after Watson - he is, after all, somewhat brilliant. And him taking care of Watson is just kind of adorable :) I'm rather glad the fic didn't suffer as a result of my tiredness! (It was one of those "Oh gosh, what if I've got everything completely wrong?" moments that follows a simple mistake. Nothing has leapt out as being totally messed up though, so it's all good.) I've just seen that drawing - it's so wonderful and cute!
Thank you very much :)
So there's about a million things I should be doing right now, despite the fact it's almost midnight, but I saw you'd posted fic and was like "... okay, bedtime story! Can't resist!" and now I feel all happy and relaxed and loved-up. :D
Personally, I like the fact that you did Watson in Holmes' bed instead of the other way around: I like seeing Holmes look after Watson and Watson being vulnerable.
I love the way you compare Watson and Holmes in the first bit, and this line: “Foolish man,” he murmured with no small amount of amusement. With movements that were both quick and gentle, he reached out to tug the fabric around exposed limbs (Also, Watson saying "Capital" - because anyone saying that always amuses me.)
This: “Watson,” he called out as he pushed open the door to the sitting-room, throwing the umbrella into the corner as he whipped his hat from his head. “You really did miss out -” -- I could really see Brett here. Really vividly. And him being pleasantly shocked by finding an unexpectedly naked!Watson in his bed was a great giggle.
And this line is such a great line for Holmes because it's so stupidly true: “I had no plans to have any romantic feelings for you" Oh, Holmes, you idiot. ♥ Lovely, lovely fic.
(Can you please make my head work for me too? Or, you know, have a word with old Father Time and get him to give me a few more hours each day?)
It's strange but knowing that my fic served as a good bedtime story makes me exceedingly happy, possibly because I love knowing that someone has clicked on the link and hasn't regretted taking those few minutes to read my fic. So thank you, and I hope you got everything done that you needed to :D
I think Holmes in Watson's bed would work so well movie!verse (although now I've got images of Brett!Holmes in that wonderful nightgown and that's definitely got potential), but Watson in Holmes' bed must have been what presented itself as being right here otherwise I wouldn't have blocked out the prompt quite so thoroughly. If it came across well then that's good!
Having both their thoughts to start off was something I really wanted to do - a story about Watson sleeping could easily ignore his perspective altogether and I wanted him to be involved in it as much as Holmes was. (And anyone saying "Capital" amuses me too, more so when I imagine drunk Watson carefully enunciating it :D)
I'm glad that bit with the umbrella etc worked! I did consider toning it down a bit but left it as it was in the end so I'm glad that Brett!Holmes made himself apparent :D And can you imagine his face at finding naked Watson in his bed? *grins*
That line about romantic feelings was another one I had slight doubts about. I didn't want to make it too cliched but at the same time it felt like a sentiment that Holmes would express. And yes, he is an idiot :D
Thank you very very much! I can try and make your head work but I don't think there's much that I can do beyond wishing it well again. As for time, as soon as I've got my own TARDIS I'll see what I can do.
The last sentence was fantastic. As usual, brilliant. And wonderful~~
Thank you! I never know how to bring fic to a close so I'm glad the last sentence worked. As ever, I'm very pleased you liked this :D
This is lovely. I adore drunk or sick Watson snuggling into Holmes' bed and Holmes looking after him and the ending is just perfect.
Aw, thank you :) Holmes looking after Watson is, to my mind, adorable. I'm glad the ending worked; last sentences are sometimes the hardest thing to write!
Not your average h/c, but all the better for that :) I am just so besotted with the idea that Watson would seek out Holmes' bed, but more than that, you pulled the story off so that every second of it was believable... and fricken' adorable :D
As usual, your imagery was so sharp this played out like a movie -- a very hawt, steamy one *grin* I <3 this so hard!
I actually didn't write this as a h/c (I know, it's got sick Watson and caring Holmes but that didn't really cross my mind as h/c for some reason) but it definitely has that feel to it, and I'm glad it works. I had the reasons for Watson snuggling up in Holmes' bed planned out ever since I started writing this (a long long time ago...) and it struck me as rather cute, so I'm glad you liked it too :)
Thank you very very much for saying that this was believable and adorable - I'm hugely pleased with that! And that the images came across so well - I try to achieve that and I love that I've succeeded :D Thank you again!
i'm SO glad i checked your journal before going to sleep:DDDDDDDDDDD
though the whole thing was once again lovingly lengthy with delicious descriptions, this is what did me in:
“...and searching for a door. Aha, there it was. “Capital.”
By the time he’d defeated the handle..."
I giggled all over my bed. I ADORE your wasted!watson and high!holmes, they're the funniest thing EVER. watson coming home pissed as fook and stripping and tumbling into holmes' bed is just like the next best thing to sliced bread.
Before I say anything else I just want to let you know that I really appreciated your wonderful comments/support elsewhere whilst I was writing this. It made a big difference :) *ahem* OK, I'm done with the stoppy stuff now.
I'm glad checking your journal before sleeping proved beneficial! Regarding "lovingly lengthy" (which, by the way, is a lovely description; my thanks :) ), would you believe that this was supposed to be a short fill?
Giggling - yay :D I haven't written much drunk!Watson and I wanted to make him quietly amusing because silly moments can be just as funny as crazy drunken escapades. I bet he never thought that crawling into Holmes' bed would have such an impact further down the line.
Thank you very very much :D
I do love stories where Holmes takes care of Watson! This was a wonderful read.
So do I! There's just something about Watson being the incapacitated one (and Holmes being at even more of an advantage than usual ;) ). Thank you very much :)
|Date:||May 28th, 2010 03:05 am (UTC)|| |
Jesus, your writing is amazing.
'Thank you very much' seems inadequate but I honestly can't think of anything else to say! I'm glad you liked this :D
Oh this was was so lovely. ♥
Thank you! I'm glad you liked it :D
And you continue to write these two in an utterly adorable way. I have such a fondness for your Jeremy!Holmes. *sighs happily*
Aw, thank you so much for saying that :) I'm glad my writing of them is still worth reading. Brett!Holmes - I'm still a
little bit lot in love with his Holmes and I absolutely adore writing him :D Thank you!
This was all shades of lovely! I don't know if it's the late hour and my slower reading, or if it's just your mad writing skilz, but this is one of the more intimate/vivid fanfics I've read of late. I could see their faces when Holmes was calling Watson out on the bed, so close together, their eyes flitting back and forth... every minute expression, while not detailed, was visible in my head, and I LOVED it.
Thank you so much! To be honest I don't really mind why this came across so well as long as it did - if you enjoyed it then it served its purpose! It's strange (and good, obviously) that you could see their faces at that moment because I couldn't as I was writing it. I tried to make sure that there was something there for people to work with but in my mind I saw them rather than their faces. (Random, probably unneeded information but there we go) :D
Thank you again!
|Date:||May 28th, 2010 05:25 pm (UTC)|| |
It is great
I always love it when you make Holmes and Watson a beautiful and sweet couple.
Thank you very much :) For my part, I'm always pleased when people like what I do with them so thank you, and I'm glad you liked this.
Oooooh, this was unexpected and fun and cute and sexy and and and... YES!
The tone and mood was so very much like canon, I enjoyed it IMMENSELY!
Excellently well done, you!
Oh, thank you very much! Any resemblance to canon was entirely unintentional but I'm more than pleased if it came across that way :D I'm glad you liked it! And can I ask what was unexpected about this? I'm curious now!