Improprieties
by LavenderJade
Notes

Chapter Four: Together

By the time Saturday afternoon came, both John and I were eagerly anticipating Holmes' arrival.  It took my dear husband a while to sort through his feelings on the matter, but after his visit to Holmes earlier in the week which confirmed my theory, he found he could no longer hide the truth from himself. 

I had the cook prepare a light supper, then gave her the rest of the night off.  We wanted no interruptions this evening.  Although I knew Holmes disdained women, still I wore my most fetching dress.  I hoped my presence would not put him off too much, for I dearly wanted to see the two of them together.  I wish I knew why the idea so fascinated me; it was certainly well beyond what a proper lady should desire.  But then, many of my desires would be considered improper.  I considered myself incredibly fortunate to have found a husband who was willing to indulge me.

At long last we heard the sound of a cab arriving, and moments later the knock at the front door.  John opened it to admit his dear friend. 

"Holmes!  So good of you to join us.  Please, come in."

I took his coat, using the opportunity to observe them.  Holmes' uncertainty was plain to see, indeed, it was almost painful to behold.  I realized then just how much he feared losing his Watson, now that his secret was known.  John also looked vaguely uncomfortable, which did nothing to reassure his friend.  //Men! // I sighed.  // So hopeless when it comes to matters of the heart! //

The men went into John's study while I went to set out the dinner.  Since it was all prepared in advance, it did not take long before I called them to table.  I do not know what they discussed in that short time alone; I can only presume from the looks on their faces that the one subject they both wished to discuss had been avoided studiously.

John sat at the head of the table, with myself to his right and Mr. Holmes to his left, directly across from me.  I could not bear to see him suffer so needlessly.  I reached across the table and gently lay my hand over his.

"Mr. Holmes, please, do not fear.  All will be well.  Enjoy your dinner, then we shall all relax together.  If that pleases you?"

"Mary!"  I fear my forthrightness was a bit much for my husband. But it served its purpose, for Mr. Holmes visibly relaxed and favored me with a shy smile.

"No, Watson, she is correct.  I fear I have been much too concerned about what has remained unspoken to have derived any enjoyment at all from this supper before us.  I am most grateful for Mrs. Watson's reassurance."

Even so, throughout dinner there remained an underlying tension in the room.  Conversation came in fits and starts.  I realized that I needed to take that tension and subvert it to my goals.  A word here, an innuendo there, and the mood began to shift.  When at last the interminable meal was ended, we were at least in the right frame of mind.

As Mary cleared the table, I took Holmes back into the study and poured each of us a stiff brandy.  I know I certainly needed it to calm my nerves.  I studied him as we stood there, not speaking, seeing him as I had never seen him before.  The long, lean body.  His hands, so deft at manipulating his laboratory apparatus or his violin.  Those piercing gray eyes, now softened as never before.  He looked at me expectantly, and I suddenly realized that I held his heart in my very hands.  Mary was correct; underneath the façade of the Great Detective there truly was a human soul, which at this moment was painfully vulnerable.

I reached out to touch his hand as Mary had at the table, intending to offer reassurance.  I was unprepared for my own body's reaction to that simple contact.  It was as though a current of electricity ran through me.  Our eyes locked; I knew that he had felt it as well. 

"Watson, I …"

I shook my head, reaching out my hand to touch his lips, silencing him.  "Now is not the time for words, my friend."  My pulse was racing as I closed the distance between us.  I now knew for sure that Mary had been correct; my feelings for him ran much deeper than I had allowed myself to acknowledge.  Looking into his eyes, I saw the strangest mixture of desperation and hope and fear.  My fingers slid over his cheek, the gentlest of caresses.  His breath was coming short and shallow as he stood immobile.  I wrapped my fingers around his neck and pulled his face to mine.  His lips were parted, not from intent, I think, but simply because that's where they were when I made contact. 

At first he simply stood there, nearly paralyzed, I think.  But finally his arms came up to embrace me as he responded to my kiss.  His hunger began to blossom as we explored each other's mouths, first tentatively, then with more vigor.  Yet even then, I could feel him trembling in my arms.  // He has not done this before … with anyone! // I realized with a start, and determined in that moment to make this worth his long wait.  My own arms pulled him closer, one hand buried in the slick black hair as the other slid under his coat to rest in the small of his back.

By the time we broke apart, gasping for breath, my own manhood was swollen and tender.  I never would have anticipated such a reaction, and yet it was now undeniable.  And undeniably pleasurable.  While I had thoroughly enjoyed the marriage bed with Mary, there was something about this which heightened the passion.  Perhaps it was the illicit nature of the act.  Or perhaps it came from knowing that I was the only one Holmes could trust.  Whatever the reason, I found myself almost giddy with the passion.

I allowed my hand to slide down his long neck, over his cravat, and down his chest.  With both hands, I pushed his coat from his shoulders.  He cooperated, allowing me to remove the coat, which I placed over the back of a chair.  My own soon followed it.

As I turned back toward him, I happened to glance at the doorway.  Mary stood there, a Mona Lisa smile on her face.  I realized she had been watching us.  That knowledge sent another thrill through my body, and I reached again for Holmes.  This time he responded immediately, his tongue questing deeply into my mouth.  Unencumbered by our coats, our hands slid up and down across our backs.  I shifted slightly to one side so that our groins nestled side by side, delighted to find him as excited as I was.  I let my hands slide down, pulling him closer.  He moaned softly into my mouth and I felt him twitch within his trousers. 

Once again separating, I pulled him down to sit beside me on the sofa.  He gazed at me with the tenderest expression I had ever seen on his face.  "Oh, Watson!" he sighed. 

I smiled and once again caressed his cheek.  The roughness was so different from my Mary's soft skin.  He turned his head slightly to place a kiss on my palm.  I reached out with my other hand to tug at his cravat, freeing his collar.  A few more buttons and his long neck was exposed.  I found myself hungering to taste it, leaning forward to lick along the tender spot at the bend.  This drew a surprised gasp from Holmes.  I continued to suck at his neck as my hands finished unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it out of his trousers.

I sat up to gaze at his upper body, now displayed for me.  A few hairs scattered across the center disappeared under the fabric of his trousers.  Otherwise, his chest was bare.  A few scars were visible from his exploits over the years.  His nipples stood at taut attention, just begging for my touch.  Mary had taught me just how pleasurable that could be for a man – something I simply had never thought about before.  I bent once again to kiss him, this time letting my hand float over his chest, seemingly randomly, but actually intent on brushing over those hard nubs.  Again he gasped at the unexpected sensation.

Holmes leaned back into the corner of the sofa, offering himself to me.  Again, our eyes met; now his expression was dreamy, something I had never expected to see there.  Unable to resist any longer, I bent down to suckle one nipple while my fingers teased at the other.  A deep groan of pleasure escaped his lips.  I wondered absently just how limited his experience truly was. And yet I knew, because I knew him, that he would not have normally even indulged himself alone in his bedroom.  He would have denied himself this as he denied all associated with the softer emotions.

But tonight that denial had ended.  He put his trust in me, and I was honor-bound to return it intact.  I gazed down at him, displayed before me, knowing what should come next.  But for a moment I hesitated.  Could I really do this - touch him in that most intimate manner?  I glanced up at Mary, who still stood silently in the doorway of the study.  Her smile reassured me, and finally I allowed my hand to slide further downward, over the quite conspicuous bulge in his trousers.

As I did it I realized that he had seen me look to her.  For just a moment panic crept into his gaze as he realized we were being watched.  But the pleasure of direct contact made him forget.  I felt his manhood jump under my touch, as he moaned and sighed.  As I continued to caress him, I watched as an expression of wonder and joy overtook his usually severe features.  Something deep in my heart seemed to burst as I realized that I could bring him such joy.  All my apprehension vanished in that moment; now I wanted more than ever to bring him to the ultimate release.

My hands made short work of freeing him from his trousers, exposing his throbbing member to my hungry eyes.  I ran my fingertips over it, enjoying the feel of the soft, velvety flesh.  I bent to kiss him as my fingers wrapped around his shaft.  He trembled again, now with passion rather than fear.  His manhood filled my hand, so hot and hard.  I was all but laying on top of him as he writhed and moaned beneath me.  Some part of me heard Mary move into the room for a better view, but now it didn’t matter.  We were both caught up in the moment. 

It wasn’t long before I felt him tense up, his release but moments away.  I freed myself from his hungering mouth and hands, bringing my lips down to his groin and swallowing him whole.  The sensation was too much for him, and he exploded immediately with a powerful cry.  The hot, bitter liquid filled my mouth, choking me, but I would not let go until the last convulsions left his body quite limp.

I remained slumped over his body, stretched out over the sofa.  My head rested on his chest and I could hear his heart pounding heavily inside.  Much to my amazement, I felt his arm wrap around me and his fingers slide into my hair.  I closed my eyes, floating in the warmest feeling of contentment I had ever felt.

I don’t know how long we lay there; for once my senses were of no use to me, having been utterly overwhelmed by our activities.  All I knew was that every nerve in my body seemed to have exploded, sending wave after wave of pleasure through me.  It had never been like this the few times I had been forced to complete the act alone.  I wondered idly why this simple bodily function felt so different when shared.  But my mind refused to focus on the question.  Seemingly without my will, my hands moved over Watson’s body, holding him close.  I didn’t want this moment to end.

But as my heartbeat and breathing slowed back to normal I realized that while I had taken great pleasure in Watson’s attentions, he was still mostly dressed.  And I could feel his erection pressing into my leg.  I wanted desperately to do for him as he had done for me, but I was uncertain of how to go about it.

Finally, he moved, pulling himself out of my arms.  I felt a pang of sadness at the end of that precious moment.  He gazed down at me tenderly, reaching one hand to caress my cheek.

“Holmes?  Are you all right?”

I nodded, not quite trusting my voice yet. 

He smiled at me.  “A bit overwhelming?”

“Yes,” I finally managed to force words from my mouth.  “Watson, I … I want to … return … but I’m not sure how …”

That was when I realized Mary had entered the room.  She came over to us and knelt before the couch, reaching a hand out to touch each of us. 

“Perhaps I could show you how?” She turned to Watson.  “Would you like that, John?  The both of us attending you?”

Watson’s eyes grew quite wide at that suggestion; even my addled senses could tell that he found the idea most agreeable.  He gazed at me.

“Holmes?”

How could I deny him after what he had done for me?  I nodded.  Mary stood, making room for us to get up as well, then took me by the hand, leading me back to their bedroom.  Watson followed like an eager puppy.

Once there, she turned to her husband.  “John, dear, really, you are far too dressed for this stage of the game.  Mr. Holmes, would you mind helping me?”

I found myself kissing him as my fingers worked at the buttons of his shirt.  Once it was free, Mary pulled it off from behind.  Watson put his arms around me then and pulled me close so that our bodies were touching, skin to skin from the waist up.  The warmth of his body, the softness of the curls which covered his chest, seemed somehow alien to me, so different from my own body.  And yet so wonderful to touch.  It seemed that my senses were suddenly returning to me, heightened now, so that the feel of him, the smell of him, were as real to me as the sight of him.  It was a powerful sensation; leaving me feeling somewhat light-headed.

He released me and turned once again to his wife.  “Your turn, my dear.”

Mary obligingly turned around, presenting him with an interminably long line of buttons down the back of her dress.  I realized why women had to have maids to help them dress; I doubt she could have gotten into or out of that contraption on her own.  It seemed constructed just to slow down the process in situations such as this.  But finally they were all open and the dress fell from her shoulders.  She pushed it down to the floor and stepped out of it, now wearing only undergarments.  Watson pulled her to him, kissing her, and I felt a pang in my heart as I had at their wedding.  As delightful as this day was, it would always be secondary to him; she was his wife, the one he was promised to.  Something we could never share, even if she hadn’t come along. 

I must have made some small sound of despair, because she turned toward me and reached out a soft hand to caress my cheek.  “No, Mr. Holmes.  You owned his heart long before I came along.”

Watson also turned to me.  “She is right, Holmes.  I tried to deny it, but it is true. I am just lucky that she does not hate me for it.”  He gazed at both of us with undisguised affection, and I realized that they were telling me the truth.  Then Watson pulled me close again, claiming my mouth in a passionate kiss. 

The next thing I was aware of, we had tumbled down onto the bed, with Mary on the opposite side of him.  Watson rolled over onto his back, giving us both access.  Mary smiled at me over his chest and reached for my hand, placing it on her husband’s chest.  I followed her lead, letting my fingers find one stiff nipple as she found the other.  Watson gave a delighted gasp at the dual touch.  She bent down and began kissing and sucking on his earlobe; I imitated on the other side.  Eventually our mouths replaced our hands on his nipples as the hands crept further south.  My hand trembled as I first touched Watson’s prick through his trousers, but his smile of delight convinced me to continue.  Mary’s hand also caressed him, causing him to thrash about in his pleasure.  He spread his legs, inviting us to take further liberties.  Mary’s hand slid down to caress the inside of his thighs while I continued my more northerly attentions.

“Dear lord!”  he gasped. 

Mary laughed at his exclamation.  “Told you you’d like it, John.”  She glanced at me, noting that our activities were causing something of a renaissance in my body’s interest.  “I think Mr. Holmes does, too!”

I found myself blushing deeply, unable to hide my growing interest.  Watson chuckled.  “So it seems, my dear, so it seems!”

Mary took pity on me then and returned her attentions to her husband, loosing his trousers to focus attention on his swollen member.  I must admit that I stared at it; so large and powerful it was.  She offered it to me, and I could not refuse.  My hand shook as I first stroked it, feeling the heat of the skin and the hardness underneath.

“Oh, yes!”  Watson sighed happily.  He lifted his hips, letting Mary pull away his trousers as I manipulated him.  Mary’s hand found its way to the heavy sac below.  Watson groaned happily under our combined touch.  After my own reaction earlier, I wondered how he had lasted this long.  I realized that he must have some level of control over his body that I lacked, perhaps simply from lack of experience. 

I knew the signs of extreme arousal intellectually, but it was quite a different matter to observe them first hand, and to know that I was responsible for them.  Watson’s face was flushed, his breathing quick and shallow.  Seeing him respond in this way to my touch seemed to have an equal effect on myself.  I wanted to give him the same pleasure he had given me.  Hesitantly, I bent over him, reaching out at first with only my tongue.  He tasted of salt, and of musk.  A single drop of fluid oozed from his opening.  I caught it on my tongue and spread it around the bright red crown.  Watson moaned with pleasure. 

Finally, I allowed myself to suck him into my mouth, feeling a shudder run through his body as I did so.  He was so large I could not take it all at once; but soon I felt Mary’s hands and lips working at the base and balls.  I think he cried out as she sucked one side into her mouth.  Then I had to focus on the amazing quantity of hot bitter liquid which filled my mouth.

After what seemed an eternity of body-wracking spasms, Watson fell back to the bed, exhausted.  Mary settled her head on his left shoulder and I on his right.  I felt wondrously peaceful and contented just then.  Mary’s hand reached across his chest to stroke my cheek.  I found myself smiling warmly at her, this woman who had thrown my life into such turmoil.  “You are part of our family, Mr. Holmes.  I hope you know that now.”

Her words left me shaken.  For the first time in my life, I felt affection for a woman.  Without her, I doubt Watson would have ever found the courage to discover his true feelings for me.  And I would have remained alone.  I looked up and saw Watson smiling beatifically at both of us. 

“I know …” I whispered softly.