by J Rosemary Moss
Holmes/OMC     PG

I swiveled in my chair to face him—but stopped cold as I recognized the fellow. Of course I recognized him. How could I forget him? I had given my greatest performance, to date, in his rooms at Baker Street. Sadly, it had been a private performance: he and that doctor friend of his were the only witnesses.
But did he recognize me? I had been dressed, convincingly, as a little old woman when last we met.

by M
Holmes/Watson     G to PG-13

This afternoon it struck me, while I sat skimming the Standard, how odd it was that I had not realized my true nature.  In retrospect, I have been able to see the subtle meanings behind many of my past behaviors.  For instance, I frequently took opportunities to steal long-endured glances at him as he played upon his violin or sat smoking his pipe, thinking over a case.  Small incidents, to be sure, but telling in hind-sight.

by Jem's Bird
Holmes/Watson     R to NC-17

It has been far too long. I lift our joined hands to his chin and draw his mouth to mine. Our lips wrestle pleasurably together for a moment before a not-so-gentle cough makes us tear away from each other, our hearts leaping to our throats.

“As much as I hate to interrupt this tender emotional scene,” Sherlock Holmes says coldly, “we have work to do. I believe you have something for my brother?”

by Daylyn
Holmes/Watson     PG to R
A Work in Progress

“I must go,” Holmes said quietly and stood.
I rose with him and engulfed him in a tight embrace. “Promise me you’ll come back,” I demanded.
“Promise me!”
“I cannot know what will happen, Watson. You understand that.”

by Alia
Holmes/Watson     PG
A Work in Progress

In fact after witnessing the interchange between Holmes and the man who would surely stop at nothing to achieve his despicable ends, I had begged my friend to take great care in his dealings with him. I had seen the disdain both men had showed the other, and my fear that Holmes' position and reputation would be the next on Milvertons' long list of London's gentry to be scandalised was all I could think of.

by Jem's Bird
Holmes/Watson; Jeeves/Wooster     PG-13

Life is not only undoubtedly rummy, it is also downright queer. And that’s where the whole rumminess about it started, with that one word: queer. Much, it has been said, can hang on a single word, and when that s. w. is “queer,” the resulting rumminess that follows can get, well, queer.

by Lyrical Soul
Holmes/Watson     G - NC-17

It came as a horrible shock to both of us when the seeds of justice sown many years prior grew into an unfortunate incident, which to this day remains personally painful for me to recount. It was a disgraceful, embarrassing, and humiliating affair, and it shook the very foundation of the strong friendship Holmes and I had forged.

by Liederlady
Holmes/Watson     PG to NC-17
A Work in Progress 

He suddenly looked desperately young and vulnerable, perched in that awkward position at the edge of the table.
I, straightaway, wanted to know his name, to know what had happened, who had harmed him. I wanted to assure him I would find the blackguards and thrash the hide from them while he watched.
I wanted to know all there was about him and all there ever would be.

by Pandapony
Holmes/Watson     NC-17

I had often chided Holmes for his egotistical belief in his own hypotheses, and his infallible faith in his own deductions.   The fact that Holmes had, finally, been wrong, brought a momentary smirk to my features.   I thought how I could rebuke him later for his error.
But I was given no other chance to consider the repercussions of Holmes' mistake, as I was quickly surrounded by seven men.   My amusement fled and, shortly thereafter, my consciousness.

by LavenderJade
Holmes/Watson/Mary     NC-17

I gave a soft laugh.  “Can it be, my dear, that you truly don’t know?  Never figured it out in all these years you have known him?”
John looked at me, perplexed.
  “Whatever are you talking about, my dear?”
“John, he loves you.”

by Pandapony
Holmes/Watson     NC-17

I placed my bag on the dining table with a sigh. “All right, Holmes, let’s have a look at it, then.”
Holmes’ eyes snapped to me. He turned even paler. “What are you talking about, Watson?”
I frowned. “I may not be able to determine the difference between twenty types of cigarette ash, but I can deduce when a man is suffering from a dangerous wound.” I removed my jacket and rolled up my shirtsleeves.

by Pandapony
Holmes/Watson     NC-17

“You sit there with a smirk on your face, berating my investigative skills, telling me you watched me as I sat weeping for you on that ledge?” My voice trembled with suppressed emotions. My eyes welled with tears again, and I wiped at them hastily. “Do you have any idea how devastated I was? How that moment shattered the man I had been? You stared down at my ruin, Holmes! I was never the same!”

by Alia
Holmes/Watson     G to R

It is I he hungers for, and no other.

by Alia
Holmes/Watson     R

We are perhaps not two of a kind, but certainly we are equally matched in many regards. Left to his own counsel he will come to terms with his part in all of this and then all that will remain will be a settling of method -- a form of retribution that only he can demand and only I can fulfill.

by Liederladyl
Holmes/Watson     R to NC-17

He was choosing to employ a number of the available charms within his considerable repertoire, intent on cajoling me from my peevish disposition. This too, was behavior which had developed slowly over the past six years. Holmes’s pathological need to control every situation can inspire both admiration and rage, sometimes simultaneously. However, mastery of his more intimate endeavors required … careful honing.

by Jem's Bird
NC-17 & R options
[NC-17 Chapter 9:
H/W/Lestrade/Alice Lestrade]

Holmes threw back his head with a barking laugh. “Watson, who in this world could be better suited to me?” He nuzzled me fondly. “You can’t honestly think I would even consider loving anyone else?”
I looked down at my hand, which was still clasped in his. “We have been lovers for just under five years,” I said. “Neither you nor I know what the future can hold. I have no guarantee that you will see fit to stay with me for the rest of your life.”



Home     Monographs     Authors     Latest Additions     Gallery     The Radio Parlour     Moving Pictures

Sites of Interest     Submissions     Acknowledgements     Contact

wordpress visitors