tl;dr: why couldn't mary have been ugly or something

[mustbethetruth]

Once the adrenaline fades, Holmes is only left with an empty sitting room and an empty hole inside him that won't be filled until the next case. He could've been happier about it, maybe, if he didn't think this would be the last case he did with Watson. If Mary Morstan hadn't been involved, hadn't been so sweet, hadn't been so pretty, hadn't been so exactly the kind of girl that Watson ought to marry.

He and Watson had spoken of love, of course, but Holmes has seen Watson's opinion on this type of love between men. He doesn't doubt that Watson ranks affection for a woman higher than that for a man; if he was so inclined to marry Miss Morstan... what would stop him? He'd feel remorse for breaking things off with Holmes, certainly, but a union with Mary would be right.

Holmes puffs out a billow of smoke and pulls his dressing gown tighter, sinking into the cushions of his chair. Watson is probably off with Mary now, explaining the loss of the treasure. No doubt he's relieved. A rich Mary would be unobtainable, but a poor one? A poor one in an emotional moment of loss and need? Oh, they lost the treasure in the Thames, but Holmes isn't so sure Mary won't wind up with a ring by the end of this evening.

As long as he had the case, he could distract himself. At the time, this business with Watson and Mary had been the distraction, and the case, full of its irrational logic and unexpected rationality, had been like food for his mind and soul. Usually a case leaves him full for days at least, especially with Watson providing him the sort of soul-stimulation Holmes needs, but now Holmes finds himself lacking both.

The worry that had been gnawing a hole in him through this entire case has now revealed itself, and that tiny hole is much bigger now. Holmes could drown himself in it. In a way, he is.

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[mustbethetruth]

Holmes grins, almost to himself, and his ears turn slightly red with pleasure over hearing Watson admit something so wonderfully... perfect as that. It's somewhat frightening to presume that they might be soulmates, perhaps, as that's such a grand thing to believe, but Holmes is starting to wonder if it isn't true.

"I love you," he murmurs, still smiling, and he kisses Watson's forehead gently. "And there is no one better for me than you. Come, my darling boy. My bed might be a little more forgiving than the floor." He pushes himself up into a sitting position and glances around, looking for their clothes. "We ought to tidy up a bit too, before we retire."

[lightconductor]

Also sitting up, Watson shifted to wrap his arms leisurely around Holmes from behind. He kissed Holmes's shoulders. "Yes, I suppose it would be unwise to leave all this all over the floor."

Despite his words, he began to kiss Holmes over the back of his neck and shoulders. "I think I may need convincing, actually." He laughed, and took Holme's earlobe gently between his teeth. For someone who had been so recently satiated, he was quite affectionate.

[mustbethetruth]

How thrilling it is to cavort about on the floor like this, so warm and comfortable, so at ease with each other. Peace is hard to come by for Holmes, and even when it's needed, it isn't always welcome. But he's just figured out a particularly thorny case, had a thrilling boat chase on the Thames, and had fantastic sex with his utterly perfect partner, who's now laughing against his ear. Holmes can feel a remarkably good mood settle over him like cool water.

"It was your idea," he returns, chuckling warmly, though he does nothing to dissuade Watson's antics just yet. "Am I to convince you of the wisdom of your own suggestion? Watson, that is hardly logical." Reaching back, he runs his hand over Watson's thigh, familiarizing himself with the parts of Watson he doesn't pay as much attention to in the heat of the moment.

[lightconductor]

"I am changeable and irrational," Watson said happily, trailing his mouth over Holmes's neck. "I am also easily distracted by you."

He wondered about the odds of their having an encore that evening; he was feeling rather inclined to have Holmes take him later on, if possible. There was a perfect symmetry about that sort of evening. A little strange to be so eager for something he had once been so nervous about, but he couldn't regret the change.

"So, yes." His smile was cheeky, and the cheekiness crept into his voice. "Convince me."

[mustbethetruth]

Holmes returns Watson's cheeky smile, noting a distinct air of challenge about Watson's expression, and he wonders if their exploits will repeat this evening. He feels vigorous enough; just hearing that cheeky tone is enough to start warming his blood.

"Very well," he answers, playfulness creeping into his own voice. "If you must be so difficult." Holmes knows he has to move quickly, as he's skilled in boxing but slightly less so in wrestling of this nature, whereas Watson has a distinct knowledge set to draw from with his rugby background.

In a flash, he wrangles Watson to the ground, using the element of surprise and his own innate speed to help him succeed against Watson's instincts. He pins Watson, though consciously is less severe on his injured side than on the non-injured; maybe that will open Holmes up for vulnerability, but being pinned by Watson doesn't sound all that bad.

"Does the bed sound alluring to you yet?"