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“I wonder if you would do me the very great kindness of considering the
possibility of waking up.” Holmes’s words cut through the sleep-induced fog in
Watson’s brain. They were the exact same words Holmes used to wake him at dawn
that morning but the tone of voice was much different.
When Holmes first
uttered the sentence, he was calm and insistent. He had the key to the case of
the missing Neville St Clair and would lose no time in testing it. He insisted
on heading back to London immediately despite the fact that Watson only had two
hours sleep.
Holmes voice was still insistent the second time but it was
not calm. It was strained and cracked by a physical need that only his best
friend could remedy. “Please, John,” he whispered huskily into Watson’s ear, his
hot breath caressing Watson’s neck.
Watson was vaguely aware of Holmes
spooned behind him and Holmes’s arm wrapped securely around his waist. He felt
the evidence of Holmes’s arousal but he was so tired that his own body gave no
reaction. He didn’t bother to open his eyes and murmured, “No.”
Holmes
lightly kissed the warm skin in front of him, trying to coax a reaction. “I have
a great need of you tonight. Would you deny me?”
Watson sighed wearily.
“Yes. And if you insist on pressing the matter, I shall insist that you sleep in
your own bed tonight.”
Holmes grunted in frustration, but gave in. He
would never dream of forcing himself onto Watson when Watson wasn’t in the mood
and his own bed was too empty when he was forced to sleep in it alone. He found
it difficult to sleep without his dear one beside him. “Very well. I shall
behave.”
Watson pictured Holmes’s pout and smiled before drifting off
again completely.
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