Gluttony
by Alia
Notes

As friend and some times physician to the worlds' only consulting detective I have over the years of our association attempted to teach Holmes moderation. His habitual use of narcotics and extended periods of lethargy have not gone unnoticed or without impact on either his great mind or his somewhat tenuous health.

It has not been an easy task by any stretch of the imagination and there have been periods during the many years we have roomed together when I have feared for both my ability to care for him and Holmes's sanity. The time of my greatest fears have passed however and I am happy to record that I have succeeded in at least teaching Holmes to abstain from those things that do him the most harm.

Still, with all we have celebrated it is only right that I also record that there remains one particular excess which I have not been able to subdue. As a doctor I am duty bound to point out the detriment of this and provide an alternative where possible, but as the sole witness to his often ravenous appetite I frequently find myself torn between my responsibilities to my oath and my own needs as the only man to love, and be loved by Sherlock Holmes.

I say it is love we share though I am very aware that ours is not a match of the heart or one that could ever be accepted as such by society, polite or otherwise. It matters little however. Mutual regard has always played a significant part in our relationship and as we are both men, and at times slave to the base needs of all men, we have formed a union of joint and lasting satisfaction.

Holmes has on occasion accused me of judging him unfairly but I know that we are nothing if not equal in our sins.

My life, prior to and since meeting him has always been one of service to others and I know it is my own innate need to provide aid that awards me my greatest sense of fulfilment. When my friend is in need I find myself roused by the mere thought of his skilled hands and often insatiable mouth upon my person -- that it is I he hungers for, and no other.

Despite my wish for us both to practice moderation in all things I will prepare myself for his pleasure, sometimes reclining on my bed while I wait for him, at others standing beside it in much the same way an eager servant might await a loved master. Holmes will always appear pleased with my efforts, whatever they may be, when he enters my room to find me, my hand more often than not on my prick stroking myself for him. His desire undoubtedly stoked by the sight of my own. Niceties aside he will then fall upon me as a staving man might a banquet prepared for his sole enjoyment.

I have over the years likened the experience to being fed upon, my flesh a feast for a ravenous hunger, the surrender of my seed both reward and sustenance for a gluttonous appetite.

When it is over and we are both once again in our right minds Holmes will apologise for his sinful behaviour, always promising me he will take a firmer hold on his passions in the future. I can not absolve him however, for we each know that nothing will ever change in this regard because neither of us truly wishes it.