Rating: M (FINALLY!)
Pairings: BROOOOOMANCE and Holmes/Watson, but mostly Watson/Holmes
Disclaimer: These lovely characters belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, but apparently is Andrea Plunket executor of Conan Doyle's estate and owner of the rights to the detective series. Guy Ritchie owns the film that inspired me.
Well, I'm merely borrowing them for my stories, created with my twisted fangirl mind.

In the darkness of the night
By Mello
Animebride

Sherlock Holmes

Laugh it off. Holmes had heard people do it and seen even more do it. It was a quite common way of dealing with the fact that you had come to the point of no return. He had never used seriously, if you had a problem, deal with it. It was not harder than that.

Until now.

He had tried to deal with Watson in the way he thought had been the best, the only logical way. There had been some results, but over all not what he had expected. It had proven to be the wrong way of handle the whole thing for the doctor. Was there even a right way for them to deal with it?

He had come to realise after a week or two that Watson was much more comfortable by the question if they tried to talk about it as lightly as possible. It was just a silly little thing, one among many other experiments. Holmes knew that was not really the case and he also knew his friend was aware of it. But he would play along with whatever Watson felt most comfortable with. If he simply wanted to laugh about it, fine. As long as it gave results.

"Holmes!" the detective twitched and rubbed the little sleep he had managed to get out of his eyes. It was better to be awake when the hell broke loose.

Three minutes and one shout later the bedroom door flew open with a loud slam and an extremely upset John Watson entered the room. Just as predicted.

"And here comes the cavalry", Holmes muttered with a tiered grin as he rested carefully on one of his elbows to get higher up.

"Sherlock Holmes!" the doctor cried, slamming the door behind him.

"Pleasure to see you too, Watson."

"I have not heard from you for more than a week and when I occasionally met Mrs Hudson what do I hear? You've gone and hurt yourself!" he walked over to the bed where Holmes' smile changed into a theatrical grimace.

"Not more than usual. Nasty little devil, that man. I dare say it was foul play."

"Holmes," Watson sighed and sat down on the bed.

"Here", Holmes grabbed his coat and dragged him closer, "let me have a look at you", he then put his hands on his friend's cheeks, making his face look somewhat mashed and ridiculously funny, dragging him even closer.

"Oh, this is so charming."

"I'd say", Holmes replied slowly with a smile before letting go.

"Oh, Holmes," Watson sighed and rested his head heavily on the detective's shoulder. The latter's eyes travelled up in the ceiling, thoughtfully.

"Hm."

Watson looked up, "What?"

"Forgive me if I'm rude", Holmes started, his eyes travelling between the roof and the man, "but I believed there, for a mere moment, that you would actually kiss me."

"You never give up, do you?"

"Do you blame me for hoping?" he smiled and met Watson's eyes. The smile was returned with the kind one he had only seen on his friend's lips.

Those very gentle lips were on his own seconds later.

It started of as a very smooth kiss, as a sensitive greeting. They kissed slowly, letting their lips meet time after time. The passion grew as they fully tasted each other and Holmes could literally feel his friend's hunger. Watson had changed during the last times they had have the pleasure to see each other. Holmes knew his wife had gotten quite ill lately and the poor woman did not seem to get any better. It affected the man greatly, both as husband and doctor. His behaviour when they had their little moments had changed too. The uneasiness seemed to be replaced by a hunger. A hunger for something real, something that would not slip through his fingers.

Speaking of which, Holmes could feel Watson's fingers travel over his sore muscles and the only thing that disturbed him more than the fact that they were trembling was the throbbing pain from his right side.

"Ouch, I'm afraid my condition isn't exactly the most suitable for this now. But please, do hold on to that thought", he finally said, parting them from each other, trying not to grimace too much.

"Your condition? Holmes…" Watson started and tried to drag down the covers, Holmes hands were quickly there, preventing him.

"There is nothing down there for you to see, at least for now."

"Let me see", the taller man said shortly and met his friend eyes. Holmes sighed lightly but reviled his night dressed body. He was wearing a pair of loose pants and a big white shirt which was stained with blood. Watson lifted it up and exposed a badly bandaged wound.

"Unbelievable."

"One might think."

"Show me your arm."

"I know that you for some reason think I can't be on good terms unless I have used cocaine, but I can assure you, doctor, I have not taken any, today."

"Holmes, why did you not tell me?" Watson looked him in the eye.

"I believe I have the right to ask you the same, old chap", Holmes answered stubbornly, not looking away.

"Well, I on the other hand can take care of myself."

"So can I."

"Really?"

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"You are a very silly man, Holmes, you know that?"

"No, I was actually not aware of that," Holmes answered nonchalantly, dragging up the covers again. He laid down with a sigh, his half open eyes catching the doctor's as they shared a moment of silence.

"You want another one?"

"What's your diagnose, doctor?"

There was a short pause before Watson answered, "Be quiet and take your medicine."

For once Holmes thought it was best not to argue. The doctor bended down and the detective could feel his hot breath tickle over his own lips, as he closed his eyes, but they did not meet his. The warmness vanished and Holmes could feel the intensive stare from those blue eyes. Cold fingers carefully brushed some hair away from his forehead and then trailed down his left side, along the jawbone. A thumb trailed Holmes' under lip and he had to prevent a shiver.

All his senses were uptight, catching everything. He could hear the bed slowly squeak as Watson leaned over him and rested his forehead against Holmes'. It felt cool compared to his own, and the detective tried his best to keep his calm breathing calm. Everything with Watson was just like this. So raw, so here. The rushes of emotions were not like the ones drugs gave, nothing like them actually. These dragged him right down to earth, but still gave him the wonderful feeling of lightness in his head. Holmes did not know what it was, but he wanted more of it.

He could hear how his friend's breathing changed and a soft whisper was barely heard, "Please be careful."

Holmes sighed and could not help the smile which danced over his lips; it only grew as he reached his hands up and reduced the space between them. It was a warm kiss and Holmes felt quite satisfied as they parted. He watched as Watson took on his gloves, ready to leave. A thought came to his mind.

"Would you like to accompany me?"

Watson gave the room a look, "Here?"

"Please do me the honour", Holmes moved himself to the bed's other end, giving some space for his friend.

"That is really inappropriate, Holmes."

"You think?"

"Yes, I do. What about Mrs Hudson?"

"What about her?" the black haired man asked and received a killing look, "Oh, yes. She have gotten strict orders to leave me alone for the rest of the day and I believed you locked the door to the stairs before marching in?"

"I was not marching", Watson muttered slowly.

"Of course you weren't. I would sleep so much better with a doctor close at hand," Holmes gave the free space a pat.

"No."

"I won't beg", he said calmly before adding, "Besides, it's not like it's the first time."

"Yes, but that was before you got those thoughts."

"I can assure you, Watson, the only one with impure thoughts, as you like to call them, here, is you."

The doctor looked at him for a moment, biting his lip, before pointing at his friend. "No snuggle."

"Please, what do you think of me?" Holmes asked with a grimace as he watched Watson take off everything down to shirt and pants, "Or wait, I know the answer to that mystery now."

"It was the fever talking", the taller man replied shortly as he made himself comfortable under the shared cover.

"Of course it was." Holmes agreed with a floating tone, very much enjoying the situation. The smile on his lips fades as his friend relaxed and he was able to get a proper look at him, "You look tired, my friend."

"Haven't really been sleeping properly lately," Watson answered with a sigh and rubbed his eyes. Holmes knew he spent all his time caring over his wife and was probably hunted by nightmares the few times he rested.

"Do you recall during the case which you named Sigh of four, when I played for you?"

Watson looked at him for a moment before answering slowly, as he thought back to the very day, "I remember how you took up the violin from the corner and started of with a low, dreamy melodious melody. Improvisation, I dare say. I vaguely remember your slim hands dancing over the strings, your earnest face, and the rise and fall of your bow. I floated peacefully away upon a sea of soft sound, until I found myself in dreamland."

"Yes?" Holmes said encouraging, he felt a pleasure, greater than he wanted to admit, when hearing it.

"… with the sweet face of Mary Morstan looking down upon me."

People prayed and people begged, but nothing could save the young woman. Mary Watson passed away, despite all her husbands tries.

Holmes had not felt anything against the woman, more then what he felt toward women in general, in the beginning. She had been one of his clients and given him a particularly devious case. Yes, she had just been one among many. Not worthy his time or mind.

It was what she did to Watson that slowly started to bug him. More than once had he turned to his friend for praise and found him too caught up in his own thoughts to even listen. She made him turn from him, him, Sherlock Homes!

What had she done that could be worth Watson's attention, a simple governess? She had never solved any cases or published any books. It was not right. Sadly, he was the only one who saw it logically, and he had to endure as his friend leaved and left him behind.

It seemed only reasonable that Watson should move back to 221b Baker Street when his wife died, it was where here belonged after all, smoking a cigarette with a brandy in the other hand in the shared room. Things seemed to be just as they had always been, for a while. Holmes noticed with pain that his friend laughed a little harder then before, gazed a little longer out of the windows then before, drank a little more than before.

It was one of these nights again; what had started as a fine time together was now heading for disaster. Watson had insisted in taking a few extra glasses and a discussion concerning it had lead of into a firely argumentation.

"You said you'd read me like a book, Holmes, but the pages are all torn and frayed", cried the doctor with despair in his voice, almost throwing the now empty glass onto the table.

"Come here," Holmes said slowly, with his calm, intensive eyes on his friend.

"No, I'm certainly not in the mood for those actions."

"Come. Here", he said again, not letting his friend escape from his eyes. Watson looked back with a puzzled face but then stood up, walked over to the sofa and sat down without uttering a word.

Holmes just looked at him before sliding his arms around him. He could feel how Watson tensed and tried to move away, but the grip only tightened. Holmes was not sure it was the right thing to do, he had never been a comforting person by nature, but he wanted to do something that could ease his beloved friend's pain. An inner relief spread in his chest when Watson finally relaxed and dug his fingers into his jacket, it seemed to work.

"I did not save her." The words, which were barely hear able, made the better mood disappear as fast as it had come.

"There was nothing you could do."

"I did not try enough; I should have done so much more."

Holmes ended the embrace and took a steady grip on his friend's shoulders, forcing Watson to look at him, "Listen to me, my dear Watson, you did all you could. Stop blaming yourself."

The older man did not answer. His strong hands were slowly placed on Holmes face as he freed himself to meet the detective's eyes. Holmes soon felt the warm forehead against his own and he closed his eyes as he presumed this would be one of those intense-feeling-moments.

A sound of surprise escaped his lips as Watson captured them with his own.

He did not protest when the doctor kissed his lips again, then his jaw. Then his throat. Then where his collarbone met his neck. Then his lips again. Holmes wrapped his arms around his friend and felt a rush of warm emotions as their bodies pressed against each other.

He soon somehow found himself pinned to the dark cushions, one of Watson's hands pressing against his shoulder as the other one trailed down his chest, down to his stomach. Watson kissed him forcefully while opening first his own jacket and then Holmes'. They only stopped to take off their shoes, with fingers that trembled.

Holmes had just kicked off the last shoe when Watson's strong hands seized his shoulders and replaced him on the couch, mouths slammed together.

He then got dragged up by those strong hands and the jacket slid off his shoulders. Holmes felt somewhat like a rag doll, but he could not really argue since the new feelings Watson gave him filled him within every second.

Watson worked to get his own waistcoat off, after throwing his jacket over the nearby chair, and Holmes opened his own in one motion, like before. He let it fall to the floor and waited for his friend to do the same.
He had seen many expressions over the years on his partners face, but he had never seen him like this. Cheeks flustered, jaw clenched, body vibrating. His eyes shined.

They looked at each other for a moment, taking the whole scene in. Holmes then seized Watson by his collar and pulled him into a dominated kiss. His hands played with the doctor's short hair, finding it so incredible soft, and he felt the other man shudder.

Watson's hands trailed his waist, up his sides as he broke the kiss.

"My bed", he huskily said, dragging up Holmes' shirt that was tugged into his pants.

"Are you sure about this? I don't want to wake up to another fight tomorrow."

"Make me feel alive again, Holmes."

Who would the detective be if he said against something like that?

They stumbled into the bedroom, tipping over a pile of books and an ugly lamp while fumbling with their clothes. Holmes pushed Watson down onto the bed, their shirts lost on the way. Their bodies soon found each other, both of them gasping for air by the new sensation. Watson's hands found their way up in the detective's hair, spreading a tingling sensation through his whole body. Holmes' hands fumbled with belt and zipper. He wanted to feel more of his warm skin against himself. Watson moved his hips and the dark, blue trousers easily slid off him. Their mouths found each other; the kiss was primitive yet filled with excitement.

They moved together in a rhythm they both knew deep inside them. Holmes could feel Watson's rising manhood against his legs, he pressed him closer. The new feelings he gave him was unbelievable. His mind reacted like it was too slow to understand, yet his body knew exactly what he wanted.

He wanted Watson.

He moaned with lust when his hands traveled down to his bare chest. He kept massaging the strong muscles and the nipples as they kissed, forcing him to moan straightly into the kiss. One of his skilled hands then opened his belt and then trousers. Holmes gladly helped him to take them off.

The kiss broke as they rolled over in the bed; Holmes nibbled Watson's neck while touching everywhere he could reach on his warm body. The doctor moaned heavily and let his hands slid along Holmes' sides, sending shivers down the detective's spine.

They then sat up, staring at each other. It was like a mist covered Watson's eyes, but they were still so intense. A few red bite marks could already be seen on his body in the dim dark.

Holmes placed a finger on Watson's chin and let it trail down over his chest. He could feel the steady rise and fall of the chest and the heart beating fast under it. His hand trailed down over the stomach, feeling the muscles working under his fingers. He gave Watson a quick look before sliding his hand into his boxers and feeling him.

The doctor hissed and closed his eyes. Holmes started to pump him as Watson rested against his shoulder. The detective continued for a moment, before taking the other man's hand and guiding it to himself. It seems like Watson was too used to women to do it by himself, this time, and Holmes was curious over the feelings it would give, having another do it to himself.

It was not by far like he had imagined, Watson's strong hands on his cock made him cry out from the back of his throat. He felt more alive than he had ever done in his entirely life, with this other, sweaty man panting against his shoulder while they pumped each other.

"I think I might come", Holmes panted after a while, as much to himself as to Watson.

Bright eyes looked at him for a mere moment before the brown haired man leaned in again and kissed his shoulder. Holmes shivered as Watson placed his mouth over the sensitive skin and bit down. Hard.

Really hard.

"By all means, why did you-" Holmes pushed him away but a finger on his lips stopped him.

"Not yet", the taller man said huskily, pressing him down on the mattress, "Not on my shift."

Holmes gave him a plucked brow, 'shift'? Was Watson one of the people who had to involve parts of their professions on deep emotional levels like this one? Maybe it was one of those kinks he had read about. It must be a good thing if the doctor started to show them. He could not help but to wonder if he had some of his own.

He stroke Watson hard while kissing him again, oh how he had missed those lips, it felt like they had not kissed for an eternity. The taller man removed his hand and nibbled Holmes' under lip before parting.

"Wait, let me do it now."

Holmes looked up at him and down their bodies. He wondered why the other man was so eager to be the dominant part in the intercourse.

"And what gives you that privilege?"

"I am the doctor after all", Watson replied with a confident smile, kissing his forehead, before leaving the bed for his bag, that stood by the window.

"What's that?" Holmes asked with keen interest as the doctor took up a small tube.

"A special lubricant, we give it to women that are usually dry."

"And why, my dear friend, do you have it in your workbag?" Holmes continued as his friend replaced himself between his legs.

"That's none of your business" the brown haired man said nonchalantly, putting on the oil on his left hand.

"That bad?" the shorter man grinned, remembering the conversation they have had at The Royal.

"Oh, shut up", Watson muttered and captured those smiling lips with his own.

The kiss almost broke by Holmes' groan as the other man used one of his fingers to get inside of him; Watson whimpered by the sounds he made. Apparently it turned him on even more. They continued for a while, more fingers where added, before Watson removed his fingers, dragging down his boxers instead. Holmes could feel how he tensed a bit by the sight of his erected cock, but he knew he could trust him.

"Does it hurt?" Watson panted as he entered him as gently as he could.

"Yes and no, it's mostly strange", Holmes answered as casual as he could. It certainly did not feel good, but he was glad his friend was a doctor since he probably would had gotten seriously hurt if they had just done it without warming up.

"Give it some time, love", the doctor gave him a light kiss before groaning and Holmes now scowled at him.

It took some time before Holmes's body relaxed, Watson stroking him again helped more than he wanted to admit, and they could start to move together. The pain gave away and was replaced by even greater pleasure, making his whole body tremble.

Neither of them knew how long the act lasted; they were both too consumed by their own pleasure and the other body against their own. They soon come to the point where it was too much. Crying out each others names they came together in one trust of pleasure.

Holmes stayed still under Watson, enjoying the pressure of his whole body on him. He was here. Watson was his again.

Nothing happened for a moment or two, and then the doctor pulled out and lay down next to the detective.

Holmes was just about to drift off to sleep when Watson crawled out off bed, without saying a word. He got up and put on his underwear again. Holmes followed him with a half open eye as he put on his trousers.

Watson seemed to study the room and then Holmes before finally opening his mouth, "Now what?"

"What?" Holmes mumbled, wondering if his throat always would get this sore when they did this.

"What should we do now?"

"Get some well eared rest?" the detective proposed, preventing a yawn.

"Holmes, you can't sleep in that mess", Watson said with emphasis.

Holmes now sat up, groining, "Why not?" he looked at Watson while scratching the back of his head. His lower back was aching.

"It's not decent", the taller man said shortly and pulled a shirt over his shoulders. He stopped and looked at Holmes for a moment.

"You should clean up."

The black haired man fought back the urge to snarl, why must the other man be so meticulous?

"What about the sheets?"

"I don't know, maybe we should burn them?" Watson suggested while leaning against the wardrobe.

"Seems like an expensive resolution in the long term", Holmes yawned; he then stretched his sore body, "I have something we can use on them", he looked at Watson, "Mrs Hudson will never know."
Watson gave him a thin smile.

"You should get some rest in your own bed. I'll take the couch tonight" he then said somewhat briskly and Holmes was just about argue, he would not accept this as an one time thing, when Watson leaned down and gave him a soft kiss, right on the lips.

Holmes could not hide a grin as his partner left the room. "If you say so", he sang out deviously.

To be continued

AN: I DID IIIIIIIIIT. Woah. I now realize how boring it is to write when two people are having sex. It's so intense (well duuh), angst is more fun C:
I wanted their first time together to be realistic and somewhat still in character. I have a hard time with fics were they just go straight for the penetration. OUCH! ;w; You need to warm up first :3 God, I'm such a perv...
Can you tell by the way I write that I'm a Holmes/Watson shipper more than Watson/Holmes? I figured Watson would dominate this time since he is more experienced in my eyes and a doctor after all. (Miih!) But who knows next time? MWOAHHAHA.
Okay, I've just eaten a lot of candy and watched The Mask. SMOKING. And why haven't anybody told me Prince of Persia is like an awesome game? Sands of time is grrrreat. Run along the wall, princeboy, run! 0w0
Hahaha my new icon is just... I was bored, okay? Wanted to try the waistcoat I made for Natta, my Holmes. XD

Treskift (Sara), the future ruler of the world, IS THE BEST. I KID YOU NOT. Come to my place and play videogames with me naaaao. (What, spending time with your boyfriendo, what do you mean? .w.)

And since we're early in Sweden and celebrates Christmas on the 24th, and I should be sleeping and waiting for Santa now, MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYBODY. MELLO LOVES YOU ALL. Argh, seriously! and a happy new year too! :D

Follow your spirit... And upon this charge, cry God for Harry, England and St. George!

Oh! one last thing... if you are from England or lives there, do you know any good schools where you might study history, literature or just english? I'd love to study there but have no idea where one should go! Help? ;A;