storypaint (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
storypaint) wrote2015-02-08 07:47 pm
storypaint) wrote2015-02-08 07:47 pm
[Sherlock Holmes] sacred idleness (Holmes/Watson)
Title: sacred idleness
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Length: 641 words
Prompt: Sherlock Holme fic battle: Original ACD universe, Holmes/Watson, Turkish bath
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Other: Victorian sexy. A little. PG-ish.
Excerpt: It was such a rare thing to see Holmes this relaxed without aid of his favorite poisons. His eyes were half-lidded when the attendant left, obligingly pushing together our couches so we might talk in intimacy. His hair was slicked back, a dark contrast to his familiar, aquiline face, and the oil glistened on his taut, well-built chest. When he caught my sideways look, he simply half-smiled with amusement.
Holmes was never one to relax on a case if he had something he could be doing. He often forwent sleep and food, living on tobacco and his highly honed reasoning skills. As his physician, I sometimes tried to convince him that he was doing harm to his body, but he grew impatient with my well-meaning advice and brushed it off with one excuse or another. He was a man who lived in his brain, not in his body.
Which wasn't to say he was no physical creature. I could tell when he was worn. This recent case for a minor noblewoman had sapped so much of his strength that I was considering asking him on holiday again. But after considering the fact that our last three holidays had involved cases, some more difficult and dangerous than the cases we had left behind, I had to abandon that idea. Instead, I decided to convince him to accompany me to the Turkish bath. I had no doubt he would enjoy himself there, if only he allowed himself the moment's rest.
As it turned out, he needed little convincing. The noblewoman hadn't been pleased to discover that it was her fiance who had absconded with the family jewels, and when I told Holmes that no women were allowed in the baths, he practically beat me to the door.
The baths had been a habit that I picked up in my youth, declining more dangerous ways of salving my curiosity about certain things, and finding it as great a place to relax as it was to meet other people. The attendants at the Northumberland Avenue establishment knew me quite well, and my friends there had often inquired curiously of my famous partner, but I had never been able to produce him in the flesh before.
And in fact, now that I was able, I must admit that I didn't particularly want to share him. It was such a rare thing to see Holmes this relaxed without aid of his favorite poisons. His eyes were half-lidded when the attendant left, obligingly pushing together our couches so we might talk in intimacy. His hair was slicked back, a dark contrast to his familiar, aquiline face, and the oil glistened on his taut, well-built chest. When he caught my sideways look, he simply half-smiled with amusement.
"I dare say, Watson, that you think that one of these days I will forget how to unwind," he said.
"I have sometimes wondered," I admitted ruefully.
"Such a worrier," he said. "Sometimes I think you're worse than Mrs. Hudson, for at least she retains an awe of my person that forbids too many questions."
"It is a shame, then, that I know you as well as I do," I answered, without any real heat. Holmes had a habit of picking fun at me whenever he was otherwise unoccupied, but I knew he didn't mean it. I shouldn't have become part of his life at all if he hadn't desired it. We had such an understanding.
"Perhaps," he said, lazily lighting a cigarette, "but at least, you are the only one, despite your attempts to capture me in pen and ink."
It was true. While I chose the cases I penned carefully, with consideration for the narratives and the show of Holmes's skills, I could never quite capture what it meant to be his friend and confidant. A dozen people might see him today, lounging at the bath, but I was the only one who would know all the facts surrounding it.
But rather than indulge such arrogance, I simply accepted another cigarette from Holmes, and we wiled away the rest of the afternoon in companionable silence.
(And no one managed to offer us a case, those few hours, so it was even more of a success than I had hoped.)
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes
Length: 641 words
Prompt: Sherlock Holme fic battle: Original ACD universe, Holmes/Watson, Turkish bath
Pairing: Holmes/Watson
Other: Victorian sexy. A little. PG-ish.
Excerpt: It was such a rare thing to see Holmes this relaxed without aid of his favorite poisons. His eyes were half-lidded when the attendant left, obligingly pushing together our couches so we might talk in intimacy. His hair was slicked back, a dark contrast to his familiar, aquiline face, and the oil glistened on his taut, well-built chest. When he caught my sideways look, he simply half-smiled with amusement.
Holmes was never one to relax on a case if he had something he could be doing. He often forwent sleep and food, living on tobacco and his highly honed reasoning skills. As his physician, I sometimes tried to convince him that he was doing harm to his body, but he grew impatient with my well-meaning advice and brushed it off with one excuse or another. He was a man who lived in his brain, not in his body.
Which wasn't to say he was no physical creature. I could tell when he was worn. This recent case for a minor noblewoman had sapped so much of his strength that I was considering asking him on holiday again. But after considering the fact that our last three holidays had involved cases, some more difficult and dangerous than the cases we had left behind, I had to abandon that idea. Instead, I decided to convince him to accompany me to the Turkish bath. I had no doubt he would enjoy himself there, if only he allowed himself the moment's rest.
As it turned out, he needed little convincing. The noblewoman hadn't been pleased to discover that it was her fiance who had absconded with the family jewels, and when I told Holmes that no women were allowed in the baths, he practically beat me to the door.
The baths had been a habit that I picked up in my youth, declining more dangerous ways of salving my curiosity about certain things, and finding it as great a place to relax as it was to meet other people. The attendants at the Northumberland Avenue establishment knew me quite well, and my friends there had often inquired curiously of my famous partner, but I had never been able to produce him in the flesh before.
And in fact, now that I was able, I must admit that I didn't particularly want to share him. It was such a rare thing to see Holmes this relaxed without aid of his favorite poisons. His eyes were half-lidded when the attendant left, obligingly pushing together our couches so we might talk in intimacy. His hair was slicked back, a dark contrast to his familiar, aquiline face, and the oil glistened on his taut, well-built chest. When he caught my sideways look, he simply half-smiled with amusement.
"I dare say, Watson, that you think that one of these days I will forget how to unwind," he said.
"I have sometimes wondered," I admitted ruefully.
"Such a worrier," he said. "Sometimes I think you're worse than Mrs. Hudson, for at least she retains an awe of my person that forbids too many questions."
"It is a shame, then, that I know you as well as I do," I answered, without any real heat. Holmes had a habit of picking fun at me whenever he was otherwise unoccupied, but I knew he didn't mean it. I shouldn't have become part of his life at all if he hadn't desired it. We had such an understanding.
"Perhaps," he said, lazily lighting a cigarette, "but at least, you are the only one, despite your attempts to capture me in pen and ink."
It was true. While I chose the cases I penned carefully, with consideration for the narratives and the show of Holmes's skills, I could never quite capture what it meant to be his friend and confidant. A dozen people might see him today, lounging at the bath, but I was the only one who would know all the facts surrounding it.
But rather than indulge such arrogance, I simply accepted another cigarette from Holmes, and we wiled away the rest of the afternoon in companionable silence.
(And no one managed to offer us a case, those few hours, so it was even more of a success than I had hoped.)