Chapter V

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A Study in Dissipation

Long before we became lovers I had known that Sherlock Holmes was frequently a restless sleeper.  Indeed I had often watched him tossing and turning as he dozed fitfully on the settee.  Shortly after we had become lovers he had confessed that he was often troubled by his nightly dreams.  Lovers now for two and a half years, I knew for a fact that he had never slept so well in his life as he did when in the circle of my arms.  As for myself, within a week of loving him intimately my bed felt empty without my dear Holmes to share it.

To my utter delight, within two months of our becoming lovers Holmes had chosen to share my bed every night and I know that he did this not just for the bliss we derived from the physical act but for the comfort and the pleasure of being together.  However, there were times, and this, unfortunately, was one of them, when I would be alone for night after endless night while he worked incessantly on a case.  It was during these times I, too, slept badly for I missed the feel of his dear body in my arms.  No matter how clement the weather I literally felt cold without him.

He was working on three cases simultaneously and for the last week had worn himself to a shadow with barely enough food for a bird to survive on and no sleep except for an occasional forty winks on the settee.  There were deep shadows now under his beautiful eyes and I truly feared for his health.  I had spoken to him several times about his physical condition only to be told in no uncertain terms to cease and desist, but this I could not do for first and foremost I am a physician as well as being his partner and lover and I consider it my duty to care for him.

This morning would be no different to any other, I thought morosely, as I donned my dressing gown and went down to what was bound to be a solitary breakfast.  Holmes was as I had expected to find him - sprawled on the settee with a week's worth of newspapers on the floor beside him.  He looked awful, his pallor sickly pale, his cheeks sunken and the shadows under his eyes were dark smudges in the morning light.

Mrs. Hudson bustled in with a delicious-smelling breakfast, glancing over at the settee with concern as she deposited the various dishes on the table.  I nodded at her in feigned reassurance for I was far from sanguine about Holmes's condition.  Indeed I was berating myself for allowing the situation to continue in this manner for the last week, no matter that I had remonstrated with him every day for the past four days.

No more, I decided.  He would eat today, no matter his protestations to the contrary.

"I do hope that Mr. Holmes will partake of some food this morning, Doctor.  I made extra in case his appetite comes back and some Bovril as well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson, that is very kind of you but you need not concern yourself.  I shall see to it that Mr. Holmes eats today."

"Very good, Doctor."

She glanced once more in the direction of the settee and shook her head despairingly before leaving the room.

The waxen figure on the settee had not moved during this exchange and continued to remain still.  However, I was not to be deterred. Taking a deep breath, I squared my shoulders before going to stand in front of him.

"Holmes?"

There was no answer, and yet I knew as I gazed on his closed eyelids that he was awake.  "Holmes, it is no use pretending.  I know you are not asleep.  Mrs. Hudson has made a delicious breakfast.  Won't you come and have some?" I coaxed.

"Oh, Watson, you really do bully me!" he protested.  "You know that I eat little when I am working."  His voice was a dry croak and his eyes remained closed.

"What I know, Holmes, is that you will have a complete mental and physical breakdown if you don't take care of yourself.  So, starting right now you are going to eat properly.  Mrs. Hudson has prepared an excellent breakfast and you are going to walk over to the table, sit down and eat.  After you have partaken of breakfast I shall see to it that you get at least five hours sleep."

"Hah!  And just how, pray tell, are you going to accomplish that?  You know that I can not sleep!  Are you going to administer laudanum, Doctor?"  His manner was thoroughly sarcastic.

"If necessary!" I snapped, regretting that I had let his ill-humour get to me.  "Now come and eat your breakfast!" I ordered sternly.

"Oh, leave me alone, Watson!" he declared in his most petulant manner.  "I know that you mean well but I really am not hungry."

Blunt words were definitely the order of the day, I realised.  I walked over to his desk and picked up the looking glass before returning to stand before him once more.

"Holmes, be reasonable," I coaxed.  "How are you going to help your poor unfortunate clients if you have a complete physical collapse?  In order for you to work efficiently you know that you must be in peak condition."  I held the looking glass up to his face.  "Holmes, I want you to look at yourself."  He opened red-rimmed eyes and squinted into the looking glass.  "A horse in your condition would be put to sleep!"

"Why thank you, Doctor!" he exclaimed, his manner more caustic than ever.  "Your words of flattery do you much credit!  Is this how you treat all your patients?  I wonder that you have any left!"  He closed his tired eyes once more and proceeded to ignore me.

"Most of my patients follow my excellent advice and get well.  My problem patients are those that are too stubborn and too stupid to realise the terrible risks they are taking by abusing their bodies!" I retorted hotly.  Taking a deep breath, I wrestled myself under control again, chiding myself once more for over-reacting to his acid tongue.

Placing the looking glass on a table, I pulled up a chair beside him and proceeded to take his pulse.  He made no protest, merely lay there and proceeded to once more ignore me.

Alarmed by the weakness of his pulse, I took his hands in mine.  "Holmes, my dear friend, I fear for you.  Truly I do.  Please!  You are in desperate need of proper nourishment and then you simply must sleep."

"Oh, I suppose you are right, Watson," he muttered forlornly.  Emitting a long-suffering sigh, he opened his eyes once more to look at me.  Even his eyes no longer appeared bright as they normally did, I observed.  As I pulled him to his feet I could not help but notice that he felt lighter and that his clothing hung more loosely on his emaciated frame.

Once on his feet, he swayed slightly and I put my arms around him to support him.

"Sorry, Watson, but I seem to be a trifle dizzy."

"That is quite understandable, my dear Holmes.  Now come along."

Gently, keeping my arms around him, I led him to the table where he collapsed onto a chair.

As I sipped my tea I observed him as unobtrusively as possible.

"Won't you have some scrambled eggs, Holmes?  They are done just the way you like them and Mrs. Hudson has made plenty."  Gazing at him encouragingly, I observed him to give me a most long-suffering look.  "Please, Holmes?  Won't you try some for me?"

It was apparent that he saw through my transparent ruse for he gave me a small smile, shook his head and murmured, "Oh, very well, my dear.  For your sake I shall endeavour to eat a little more."

Grinning at him, I served him some of the scrambled eggs and was gratified to see that he actually took a whole slice of toast to eat with it.

"Where are the papers?" he demanded.  "Mrs. Hudson knows that I always read the morning papers over breakfast!"

"I told her not to bring them up," I murmured with some trepidation and waited for the explosion.  It came immediately.

"You did what?" he demanded.

"Holmes, I don't want your mind stimulated any more than necessary," I defended.  "You are to rest!  Doctor's orders!" I insisted.

"Huh!  Well you certainly have your nerve this morning!" he muttered somewhat peevishly.

"Holmes, I declare there are days when you would try the patience of a saint!"

To my surprise he gazed at me quite contritely and after a few moments murmured, "Am I really that bad, Watson?"

I glared at him.  "Yes!"

He gave a small shrug but said nothing more and we ate in silence and sipped our tea.  I was most pleased that he actually ate most of his eggs and toast and even seemed to enjoy it after his considerable fast.

After breakfast he went to get up and I knew that he would return to the settee, but I was having none of that.  I immediately rose and took him by the arm.

"Come along, Holmes."

I helped him to stand, but as I started to lead him away from the settee and towards the door he simply planted his feet firmly and would not budge another inch.

"Where are we going?" he demanded.

"Up to my room where you can sleep without being disturbed."

"Oh, leave me alone, Watson!" he protested.  "I can sleep on the settee," he proclaimed, trying weakly to pull away from me, but I had a firm grip on him.

"Oh, no you don't!  I know you, Sherlock Holmes.  You have been lying on that settee for the last six nights and not sleeping."  I leaned closer and murmured in his ear, "You will sleep in my room, in our bed, and I will see to it that you are not disturbed for any reason whatsoever."

"But I am expecting an important telegram!" he protested weakly.

"Where from?  Tell me what must be done."

"From Edinburgh.  Inspector Mackenzie.  If his answer is yes, then Bradstreet must be informed so that he can arrest Moritz before he leaves on the Vandenburg."

"Moritz?  The Vandenburg?" I queried.

"Gerhard Moritz, the forger," he stated with exaggerated patience. "He is leaving tonight on the SS Vandenburg at Gravesend and returning to Austria."

"All right.  You must not worry so.  Leave it to me and I will take care of it."

"But I must..."

"Sleep!  And that is exactly what you are going to do!"

"But I wish to take a bath!" he complained.

"Holmes, you are perfectly clean.  You had a bath last night!" I retorted.

"At least let me brush my teeth."

The man could be worse than a child, I thought crossly, as I waited for him to not only brush his teeth but also wash his face and shave, and I could not help but notice that his hand shook a little as he held the razor.  In the meantime I took the opportunity to inform Mrs. Hudson that we were not to be disturbed for any reason whatsoever except for a telegram, which I ardently hoped would not come for some hours yet.

When Holmes emerged with freshly shaved face and smelling of toothpaste and toilet water I placed the shawl around his shoulders and he smiled at me in gratitude.

"And now, my dearest Holmes, bed!" I commanded.

"Oh, very well!" he muttered as, leaning on me, we ascended the stairs to my room one step at a time, a far cry from the usual way he bounded up stairs two or three at a time.

Once inside, I locked the door and removed his dressing gown.  He stood there in his night-shirt holding on to the bedpost while I turned down the bed and I was once again struck by how weary and helpless he was with the dark circles under his blood-shot eyes, his abnormally white complexion and his unruly hair falling onto his forehead.

He sat down weakly on the bed and I removed his slippers and covered him up.

"Mmmm..."  He stretched like a great cat and turned his head to nuzzle the pillow.  "My dear, will you hold me?  I think I might be able to sleep for a bit if you would hold me."

Even as he spoke I had removed my dressing gown and climbed into bed.  "Yes, my sweet, I'll hold you.  I'll hold you while you sleep.  We shall sleep together."

He seemed genuinely puzzled by my words.  "But, Watson, surely you are not tired!  It is only morning."

"As a matter of fact I am."

As he gazed at me, eyes searching my face, I believe that for the first time in days he really saw me, and saw just how tired I truly was.  When Holmes was weighed down by the complexity of his cases I was also.

"Oh, Watson!  Oh, but you do look tired, my dear!  What has happened to you?"

Gathering him close, I reflected that it was so very good to hold him once more.

"Quite simply, my love, I can not sleep without you," I whispered.  "I missed you and our bed is empty without you to share it with me."

"And you have been worried about me, have you not?"  I merely nodded.  "Oh, my dear, dear John, you must not worry so about me!  I will be all right.  You know that I always get over my occasional bouts of dissipation and melancholia."

"Dissipation!" I expostulated.  "Holmes, your current case of ‘dissipation' borders on total collapse!" I retorted.  "My dear, you must let me look after you because, God knows, you won't look after yourself!  Please, Holmes!  You must not do this to yourself!" I implored.  "I find it most wearing on the nerves."

"Oh, my poor John!  I should know better for I know that your nerves are not strong.  Forgive me for being such a selfish cad!  I promise I will try not to behave so unkindly in the future."

"And to take better care of yourself?" I pressed while I had the advantage.

"I can only promise to try and take better care of myself and if I fall down on the job, then you must remind me, my dear."  He pulled back to look at me.  "Will you promise to remind me, and to take care of me?"

In the face of such heartfelt contrition I could but acquiesce.  "I will always take care of you, my dear, and, if necessary, I will remind you of your promise this day."

"Good.  And now are you going to give me a sedative?"

"Oh, I have something quite different in mind!" I murmured slyly.

"Better than a sedative?"  His tired eyes lit up.

"Oh, yes!  A very special treatment for my most special patient!" I teased.

He glanced at me sideways from under his lashes.  "Is it guaranteed to relax me and make me sleep?"

"Oh, yes!" I assured.

"Is it something that I might possibly like?"

"Possibly!" I teased.

"Is it something that I might find addictive?"

"Well with you, Holmes, there is always that possibility!"

"Indeed!  You have me most intrigued, Doctor.  Pray administer this very special ‘treatment' of yours in order that I may assess its effectiveness as a remedy for insomnia."

"Oh, I shall, my dear Holmes, I shall!  And the unique thing about this particular treatment is the method of administering it."

"Oh, indeed?  If you will kindly demonstrate?"

"Oh, I shall, my sweet, I shall!  Starting now!"

With gentle fingers, I proceed to stroke his soft hair and rub his temples.  "Just lie back, close your eyes and relax," I coaxed.

"Mm, feels nice," he murmured.

"Hush, my love, and savour your ‘treatment'," I murmured.

He smiled as I kissed my way lightly across his forehead and touched my lips gently to his closed eyelids, feeling his thick lashes flutter slightly beneath my lips.

"Mm.  Oh, that is lovely!  I love it when you do that!  Oh, do it again, my sweet!"

Smiling to myself, I proceeded to do his bidding, pressing my lips tenderly to the soft skin of his eyelids again and again while he sighed and murmured my name.  I kissed my way all around his eyes before moving lower to cover his thin cheeks with kisses, moving along his jaw and finally bestowing the softest, gentlest kiss to his sweet lips, now a decidedly paler shade of pink than usual.

His response was immediate and I let the kiss deepen, feeling him open to me, thrilling to his soft moans of delight as I pushed my tongue into his mouth and he stroked it with his own, the beauty of the moment catching me and lifting me, my whole being coming alive as I had not felt in days.  Oh, but I adored him, and I endeavoured to convey all of my feelings for him into this one long, lovely kiss; my forgiveness, my trust, my all-encompassing love for him that filled me to overflowing and swelled my groin deliciously.

My poor, worn-out darling, I thought, knowing that I was in not much better shape myself.  I was determined that this would be a loving that would restore our vital powers and heal the hurts and misunderstandings of the last few days.  It was something that Holmes desperately needed and I, too, required it to heal the gashes in my soul.  My dear one was here now, in my arms, in our bed, and I intended to make the most of every moment for who knew how long these precious moments would last.

Kissing him again, I relishing his sweet lips and tongue which I had sorely missed.

"Oh, my Watson...  Mm, my dear, dear John..." he murmured between kisses.

"Oh, yes!" I whispered. "Yes, my dearest!"

His lovely mouth tasted of tooth paste and I lingered, exploring there for a long and utterly pleasurable time that left us both feeling wonderfully stimulated.

"Oh, my dear, dear heart!" I whispered.  "Oh, but I have missed you so!"  I kissed his cheeks again before returning to his beautiful lips to sample them once more and thrilled to the feel of his delicious tongue pushing its way into my mouth that I might suck it and adore it.  So marvellously good!  Was it any wonder that I could never seem to get enough of his kisses?

Eventually I sat up to help him remove his night-shirt, my own immediately following.

"Mm, that is better," he murmured languidly.  "I love the feel of your skin on mine!"  He pulled me down on top of him with a great sigh.  "It is exquisite.  There is nothing else like it in the world!"

"Oh, yes, my dear!" I whispered, kissing his neck and shoulders delightedly.  "I adore the feel of your smooth skin on mine.  So marvellously good."

As my lips travelled down his chest, I was dismayed by the thinness of the flesh covering his prominent ribcage.  I would definitely have to fatten him up, I decided, stroking him everywhere that I could reach.  I licked at a dear little nipple and watched it crinkle at the stimulation before taking it into my mouth to suck, to cherish, feeling it harden in response to my ministrations as he ran tender fingers through my hair, conveying his pleasure at my touch.  When both nipples stood as tiny, wet peaks of excitation he looked down at them and smiled.

"See what you do to me, dear heart?"  He stroked my cheeks and gazed lovingly into my eyes.  "Oh, you are so good to me!  I love it when you suck my nipples!  Love it!" he sighed.

"Oh, yes!  Yes, my heart!"  In turn, I took them into my mouth again, listening to his soft moans of pleasure.  "And I love to suck your sweet little nipples.  See how they respond to me?"

"Oh, yes, my dear John!  You and your wonderful mouth command every part of me to do your bidding.  Mm... oh, but you make me so helpless - and it is so perfectly delicious!"

Fondly kissing and nuzzling my way over his lean abdomen, I was thwarted by a hard and heavy object that lay directly in my path.  This remarkable object, unique and beautiful in its own right, stood proudly awaiting my touch - and touch it I did.

"Oh, my dearest Holmes, you are surpassing handsome!"  Tenderly I worshipped him with my fingers; encircling, stroking, touching his splendid manhood as he loved me to do.  "Oh, let me taste you, my dear!"

Slipping lower in the bed, I caressed his lovely balls and took him into my mouth oh-so-gladly, my tongue delving beneath the foreskin to savour his delightful musk taste.  Oh, but it was so sweet to hold him deeply in my mouth like this, to suck him and adore him.  My own member was full-to-bursting but it did not matter.  All that mattered was that my darling Holmes regained his health and vitality.

"John, turn around!  Turn around, my darling, and let me taste you!"

Not for one moment did I stop sucking on his lovely prick as he slid down the bed and, with his head resting against my thighs, swallowed me deeply into his beautiful mouth, his tongue worshipping me, his thin cheeks hollow with powerful sucking.

My dearest Holmes was everything to me; I loved him far too much and I had been without him for too long.  Grasping his buttocks hard, I took him into my throat as my heart pounded in my ears and his engorged prick throbbed in my mouth.  My whole being was suffused with love and joy for the wonderful man in my arms until it could no longer be contained and burst from me in a conflagration that I thought would light up the sky if it could have been seen, and my sweet darling accepted all of me, swallowing me, loving me as only he could; as only he ever has.

He gave a long-drawn-out groan deep in his throat, the vibrations travelling up my prick and filling me with satisfaction as his lovely member gushed its musk treasure in thick spurts and I pulled back a little to feel it on my tongue; to taste it; to enjoy it; to take all of him into me and savour every last drop of his salt-sweet abundance.

In the stillness and quiet of the aftermath we lay there panting as our bodies cooled.  Holmes's sweet member was still in my mouth but softening a little now as I gently kissed it, nuzzling in the sparse coils of his pubic hair.  Eventually, with a last kiss to the tip, I released my prize and, turning around, kissed my way back up his smooth, pale body to look into his grey eyes; eyes that were now filled with contentment and adoration.

As I once more lay beside him he said nothing but took my face in his lovely hands before leaning over to kiss me lingeringly and deeply, our tongues sharing the taste of each other's essence, the length of my body touching, pressing against the length of his.

When he opened his eyes to look at me once more he stroked my face and murmured, "My darling heart, you are too good to me, and if you will but hold me I believe that I shall sleep now."

"Yes, my love, sleep, and I shall be here when you wake."

With a last soft kiss he slid down until he was nuzzling my neck and I gathered him to my breast and covered him with the bed-clothes, holding him close to my heart.  As he drifted off he murmured, "Love you, sweet John.  Love you so much..." as the world narrowed down to the four walls of my room and the dear man in my arms for whom I would cheerfully give my life.  And so we were reconciled, my dear one and I.

After some four hours I awoke, but Holmes slept for altogether nine and half hours.  The expected telegram did not come until the following day.

Not withstanding Holmes's promises, I knew that the same situation would inevitably arise again in the future and, of course, they did, but that day marked another turning point in our intimate relationship.  On future occasions when this occurred after four days he would recognise his irritability, insomnia and lack of appetite as the symptoms of over-work that they were without my having to remind him of his promise to me.  At that point he would meekly beseech my forgiveness once more for his peevishness and harsh words and make a great show of forcing himself to eat merely for my sake, for which, of course, I was obliged to be suitably grateful.  However, it was with infinite satisfaction that, after he had finally eaten, he would let me take him to bed, soothe him, pet him and love him until he drifted off, truly knowing that I had once more forgiven him, that he was cherished and that he could trust me to look after our clients until he had recuperated.  He would always wake feeling refreshed and invigorated and bound off down the stairs and back to work.

Sometimes, when he lay exhausted in my embrace, I wondered what the public would think if they knew that this masterful man, this commanding personage was resting like a lost child in my arms.  Even if I could have told the tale I doubted that anyone would ever have believed me.

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