Pairings/Characters: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows
Genres: Angst, Drama
Spoilers: For Sherlock Holmes: A Game Of Shadows
Summary: Watson is in shock after the events of Reichenbach Falls.
Date Of Completion: April 16, 2013
Date Of Posting: May 31, 2013
Disclaimer: I don’t own ‘em, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Warner Brothers do, more’s the pity.
Word Count: 735
Feedback welcome and appreciated.
Author’s Note: Happy Birthday, mithen! She chose the pairing Holmes/Watson. Prompts: Maybe a missing moment or expansion of a scene in the movie? Or just a little domestic scene with life with Holmes and Watson? She got both! ;) And posted early since I’m not sure of my LJ availability for the next few days.
Of the mists
On your face
As you stare down
Into the roaring
The mists of Reichenbach Falls were cool on Watson’s face as he lunged toward the railing of the balcony. It was the damp coolness reminiscent of London fog except cleaner as there were no cinders or other sooty contributions from the city’s dreadful factories.
But all those details skittered around the edges of his mind. What overwhelmed him was a feeling of growing horror. He had read Holmes’ thoughts in his expressive eyes and knew what he was going to do before his friend threw Moriarty and himself over the balcony while in a death grip with the other man.
I was too late.
His fingers curled painfully around the railing as he stared down at the roaring water, searching in vain for a well-loved figure as the mists sparkled in his hair…
“It’s absolute nonsense, all this romantic rubbish surrounding Niagara Falls.”
Holmes smoked his favorite pipe as he and Watson sat in their cluttered sitting room. Holmes was in his dressing gown and slippers, his hair wild and his face unshaven. Watson was in shirtsleeves, a dark-blue vest, and matching pants. He wore slippers, too, and rubbed his face.
“What, you don’t believe in romance?”
“An emotion with far too much attention paid to it.”
Watson smirked. “Just an old curmudgeon, are you?”
Holmes stuck a leg over the arm of his chair. “Why people insist upon ascribing romantic claptrap to a waterfall is beyond me.”
“To be fair, Holmes, Niagara Falls is more than a mere waterfall. The American and Canadian Falls are quite impressive.”
“I thought you served in Afghanistan, not North America.”
Watson waved his hand negligently. “I saw more of the world than that place.”
Bright eyes observed Watson. The doctor felt a little uncomfortable at his companion’s keen perception.
“So, was Niagara glorious?”
“Very. Powerful beyond imagining.”
“So you viewed the Falls surrounded by honeymooners?”
Watson laughed. He leaned forward with a conspiratorial gleam in his eye as he put his hand on Holmes’ leg.
“Yes, and I must say, it was quite refreshing on a hot day. Cool mists and a sensuous experience the poets speak of.”
“Also the tourist trappers extol the virtues of rushing water.”
Watson squeezed Holmes’ leg.
Watson’s hair was plastered to his head from the mist. He could not stop staring down into the depths of Reichenbach Falls. The water boiled as if angry, its loud roar like a lion as the sound vibrated through Watson’s bones. His grip on the railing was white-knuckled as he trembled. He wanted to scream his rage and grief (Damn you, Holmes!), the sounds swallowed up by the Falls. He felt hollowed out, a husk being shredded like a scarecrow by harsh winds.
Watson kissed Holmes’ curls as he stretched lazily under the coverlet. Holmes smirked and ran his fingers down Watson’s thigh. A cool breeze drifted in through the open window, mercifully free of soot.
Holmes was careful not to jostle his lover’s bad leg as he ran his fingers through Watson’s hair. Big, brown eyes met Watson’s lighter orbs and Holmes pulled his companion into a kiss.
“You are remarkable, Holmes.”
“Of course, Watson.”
Watson shook his head. “I knew I shouldn’t have said that. You’re insufferable enough as it is.”
“Quite so. But then, you like me that way, eh?”
“Honestly.” Watson rolled his eyes, pretending great indignation but loving every minute of their banter.
“I am always honest.” Holmes stroked Watson’s hip.
“Unless it suits you not to be.”
“Well, that’s true.”
Watson laughed. “My dear Holmes, you are one of a kind.”
Watson kissed him, their tongues tangling as fingers dug into pliant flesh. Watson drew Holmes close and their cocks brushed. He felt a delicious tingle run through him as he moaned. Holmes ground them close together, his smile purely evil.
“Over the Falls in a barrel, Watson.”
Watson stared down into the roiling depths of water below him. He could hear the faint strains of music through a crack in the doorway. He thought of the waltz he had enjoyed with Holmes a short while ago and his heart nearly broke.
“You went over without the barrel, Holmes,” he whispered.
There could have been tears on his face, or perhaps it was mist.