mustbethetruth | Entries tagged with verse: 221better

This is an AU 'verse that

armydoctor and I started up with the premise that Holmes and Watson shacked up shortly after becoming friends, which means no marriage to Mary, etc. etc. It starts out with the boxing match that changes everything~ and quickly grows to epic, canon-rewriting proportions.

IT NOW HAS ITS OWN COMM AND IT'S PRETTY EPIC:

221better

( And mingle all the world with thee )

( Holmes can't shake the feeling that this is his greatest triumph. )

( He doesn’t start to kill himself—what Moran can’t do, won’t do—until almost two years into it. )

( He watches Watson's retreating back and wonders if he'll see it again )

It's been four days since the criminal responsible for the theft of a lady's necklace -- by means of disguise, distraction, and a stuffed dodo bird -- and Holmes hasn't moved from his chair except to obtain more tobacco (and then he moved his Persian slipper nearer to him, and he wouldn't have gotten up at all except it was four in the morning and Watson was asleep). He hasn't eaten anything of consequence, nor had he a few days leading up to the utter failure that was the end of that case.

The criminal had gotten away. The fact that he'd stabbed Holmes in the thigh during the fight doesn't really even mean anything to Holmes; the bleeding's stopped, he bandaged the wound, and he doesn't really feel it -- not over the feelings of loss and defeat, anyway. He hasn't mentioned it to Watson, but honestly the thought hasn't even crossed his mind. His mind is too dark a place, at present, to entertain such thoughts about what his lover would like to know, or what his doctor might like to know.

When Holmes starts to turn ill, he barely notices. It's only when he starts to shiver does he notice that he's broken into a sweat; even still, he barely pays it any mind. The dizziness is almost welcome. He leans into his fever and leans his head back against his chair, letting his eyes fall shut.

It's a little alarming to Holmes that he enjoyed their evening. He and Watson spent most of the day with Lestrade and Mary, and he enjoyed himself, even in their silly romantic company. What this means for him, he couldn't possibly say. Is Watson softening his character to the point where he has friends, in a normal way, and he enjoys it?

Mycroft will never believe it. Actually, he might laugh at him. Holmes would be alright with that, as he feels liable to laugh at himself just now.

It's dark as they approach Baker street, and he's humming the opera for Watson's benefit. The street's fairly empty, and he's happy -- properly happy -- so he breaks away from Watson and dances with himself, only just able to stop himself from laughing and ruining the spectacle of the moment.

Warning: Adult times of an NC17 nature.

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( LONG LOG OF DOOM 2.0 )

Warning: Adult times of an NC17 nature.

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( LONG OVERDUE AND ALSO JUST LONG EMAIL LOG OF DOOM )

After a series of vague telegrams, Holmes thinks he a dinner engagement with Mycroft tonight. With Mycroft and Watson. Neither Mycroft nor Holmes ever really expressed specific interest in dining together, and Holmes didn't expressly accept, but that's just how he and Mycroft tend to do things like this. Holmes especially is never quite sure how to handle this idea of being affectionate or friendly with his brother. Mycroft intimidates him, both with his superior powers of observation and with the simple fact that Holmes has come to Mycroft, needing help to clean up the mess he'd made of his life.

Holmes has been nervous all day, to say the least, and couldn't bother to get out of his dressing gown. He picked over his breakfast and luncheon, mindful of needing an appetite for dinner, at least a little one, to contrast with his brother's.

The hour's approaching, however, that he must start to get dressed in the kind of clothing more appropriate for dinner in Mycroft's club. He'd already told Mrs. Hudson, shortly after lunch, that he and Watson wouldn't be needing dinner that evening. She was a little perturbed at the late notice, but Holmes figures she won't be nearly as put out as Watson will be once Holmes gets around to telling him.

He gets up without a word and slips into his room to change and rearrange his appearance, running a comb through his hair and situating it appropriately. He comes out of his room adjusting his cufflinks, and he raises his eyebrows expectantly at Watson. Part of him is aware that this is absurdly last minute to tell Watson, but his nerves have so far prevented him from saying anything, to be honest. Belaying telling Watson almost allowed Holmes to believe he could somehow get out of this uncomfortably tense evening.

"Well?" he asks, stopping to finish adjusting his cuffs. "Aren't you going to get ready?"

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.

JSYK THERE'S A LOT THAT HAPPENED IN EMAILS WHILE LJ WAS GOING CRAZY OK

THERE WAS A LOT OF FIRST TIME SEX AND THEN HOLMES REALIZED THAT HE WAS TOO BUSY HAVING SEX TO LIKE WORRY ABOUT THE GUY WHO SENT A SNAKE TO KILL THEM IN THEIR HOTEL ROOM IN ITALY SO THEN HE JUST GOT DRESSED AND LEFT AT 4:30 AM

OK HERE WE GO

( The first thing Holmes had done after leaving Baker St. was visit Mycroft. )

( Italy is living up to Holmes's expectations, and he's been enjoying these romantic excursions with Watson. )

so remember that time holmes wrote a letter to mycroft to tell him that he and watson were doing it

here's another one where he tells mycroft that, oops, lestrade saw them do it. but it might be okay.

( My lethargic brother )

Holmes is bristling with post-case satisfaction. Oh, yes, he located the person responsible for the crime and now he's on his way to the Yard, and there's something in that worth some pride, but for Holmes, all that matters is the mystery. And the fact that it's been resolved. The pieces fell neatly into place and he left Watson and Lestrade with their heads spinning back at the scene of arrest.

He'd wanted to wait to reveal the truth to Watson here, in their sitting room, because Watson is devilishly attractive when he's staring at Holmes with that sense of wonder and appreciation, but of course Lestrade had wanted to know the details. And better to reveal them to Lestrade and get him out from under their feet as soon as possible. Now he and Watson are free to celebrate in their sitting room (and bedroom) as they wish.

His expression is already dark as he steps into their sitting room, grinning wolfishly at Watson.

"How should we go about celebrating this evening, my dear Watson?" he purrs.

If we're imagining an AU where Holmes and Watson got together before the hiatus and Mary, then allow me a minute to imagine a world where Holmes would write his brother a letter where he informs Mycroft of the developments with Watson because I've been wanting to do that, OKAY DEAL WITH IT.

( My sedentary brother )

Holmes is feeling reckless and dangerous, which is always a favorite feeling of his. It's partly why he's now involved in the profession he finds himself in, chasing criminals and solving crimes. It's why he enjoys these kinds of combative sports over, say, rowing or football. Rugby is acceptable, but Holmes isn't a very good team player -- and besides, sometimes rugby can be too distracting. Yes, he's wound up with sexual inclinations that play right up to Holmes's propensity to be reckless and dangerous, and coincidentally enough, extremely foolish.

This is all why he's now standing off to the side, awaiting his turn in a boxing match, and drinking with his attractive flatmate invalided out of the army, an unfortunate fact only because Holmes doubts he'll ever get to see him in his uniform. A sad fact indeed as there's little doubt Watson would fill it out well again eventually; the recovery he's made since he and Holmes met is already remarkable.

It was reckless and foolish to press to live with Watson, and it's dangerous to keep on doing it because in just this past year, they've managed to grow closer instead of farther apart, and Holmes can't be certain that he isn't beginning to feel something for him beyond an appreciation for a handsome face slowly getting its health back. Love is something he doesn't want to name yet, but it's undeniable that he's thought of Watson a time or two (or more than that, if he's honest) during the night.

He tries not to because he can't be sure about Watson. Watson, no doubt, is inclined toward women -- but it is something he wonders about, and he's been cautiously trying to find the answer to that question, all the while hating himself a little bit for it. He doesn't need to strike up a relationship with his flatmate; somewhere in the back of his mind is Mycroft's disapproving look, reminding him of Holmes's problems with relationships in the past. But, Holmes tells himself, it's a fact that would be worth knowing. It doesn't mean he needs to act on it. Besides, Watson probably is solely interested in women.

So that brings them to this evening. Holmes is here looking to expend some energy, most of it brought on by Watson himself, and the rest of it caused by the excitement that comes from performing for Watson because that's what this fight is. He doesn't care about boxing; he's fallen out of the sport lately, and he rarely gambles. What is important is showing off for Watson and -- well, seeing Watson's reaction.

"It's been a little while since my last match," he calls to Watson over the noise in the room. "I don't recognize my opponent's name. He probably doesn't know mine. An advantage for me," he says with a devious grin.

Eliminate the impossible

Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth

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