Work Text:
“Catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes.”
The audacity of this man. 2 months playing cat and mouse through the windy streets of France until ending up in these beautiful mountains of Switzerland, and he’s still playing.
The bartender pushed the glass of kirsch over the counter, a quiet scrape in the muffled sounds of the quiet afternoon drinking crowd. Light shone from a small window into the glass reflections, dust motes slowly breezing by. The clear liquid looked like a challenge, and I took it with a grin.
My counterpart was sitting head bowed slightly, ever the picture of the polite gentleman. Months of first recovery from a great fall and the impact of the water, slight infection from said water, and then travelling discreetly through the streets of Europe was not able to eradicate a lifetime playing the part of a nobleman. He looked like a neat cat, tucked onto his stool with his hands placed in front of him.
I took another swill of the liquid, its strong tang burning on its way down my throat.
“Whatcha drinking?” I shot to my left. The bartender shifted sideways, probably to give the illusion of privacy, wiping glasses dry with a clean rag but he clearly had one ear poised on the conversation in curiosity. Guess we did make quite a pair in these parts.
“I quite enjoy the taste of a nocino in the afternoon,” he said with his smooth tone. “Nutty, with just the right balance of bitterness and sweet.”
He looked one step away from winking, his smug expression hidden behind a polite facade. Bastard. I just wanted to catch him. While we’d recovered together and started off on our travels to put distance between us and Britain for now, he’d slipped away in true ‘lord of crime’ fashion, and had eluded my grasp until now. Every time I got a sniff of where he’d been staying, he’d have checked out a few hours prior.
I didn’t even know where he was getting the money to afford living right now. I was back to my pickpocketing ways, getting just enough from each person to get by without making a dent in their lives. Was easy enough to deduce.
I shifted my stool closer. Surveyed possible exits. Only one door, and I was nearer. Good. The bar backed onto another house, so no chance of windows in the toilets.
William looked at me with eyebrows raised: a challenge. I pushed the book over to him - Sherlock Holmes, The Final Problem - and he perused the pages for a moment while I finished my drink.
“Yes, I have read this already,” he murmured. “Quite the tale he tells. A good writer, this John Watson fellow.”
“Indeed.”
I shuffled closer still, then to his disgruntlement, picked up his drink and took a sip. He frowned at me, eyes narrowed dangerously.
From the corner of the bar, the bartender raised his eyebrows innocuously.
“You’re right. Good drink, this. Hey, Barmann, could I have one of these?”
“Of course!” He put another glass down with a clunk. Dark brown liquid filled the cup as he poured, and pushed it over the wood.
William and I sat side by side with our drinks, tension tingling in the space we shared.
“So, Mr. Holmes. How have you been?” he asked with that damn polite smile.
“Oh, you know. Been around! Got into a fight with a drunkard the other day and pissed off an old lady even though I actually caught the guy who tried to mug her. Convinced I stole from her! Maybe her friend, but nothing from her, I swear.” His eyes narrowed in disbelief.
I cleared my throat. “I also found a dwelling that had been occupied by a ‘Jack Hayes’ last week. You know him?” I eyed him with a sidelong gaze; another challenge.
“I do not, I’m afraid. What were you planning to do if you met this gentleman?” he enquired with a tilt of the head.
I grinned. Bullseye. “Lock him up. Just for a little while. Damn rascal always escapes me. But I think we might both enjoy a little while in each other’s company.”
I watched his cheeks to catch the slight dash of pink that came and went in a blink. Dust motes swirled in front of him in the cold air.
“Do you now. How interesting.” He picked up his drink and swirled it around while I watched attentively, heart beating a little faster.
I swallowed. “So, what about you? Learned the languages yet?”
He smiled his polite grin again, eyes squinting innocently. “Sapevo già parlare italiano. Und Deutsch.” Then he turned to the bartender and raised his voice. “Scusa per il mio compagno! Er ist harmlos.” The man chuckled, pushing glasses back onto the shelves.
I frowned. “They don’t speak those everywhere here, you know.”
He hadn’t stopped smiling. “You already know I speak French.”
I rolled my eyes. “Show off.”
“And with regards to how I've been, I've found myself in rather good company as of late.” He took a small sip of his drink, meeting my eyes above the glass. “Turns out people here have the most interesting problems to provide assistance to.”
Ahh, so that's how he was making his money. Figures.
The afternoon chatter of the other pub-goers hummed in the background, and I tapped my hand impatiently on the wood. The other’s grin irked me. His face was too perfect and composed. I wanted to rile him up.
I downed my glass while he elegantly sipped on his. The alcohol was a low buzz in my system.
“C’mon, Liam.” I grinned. “We’re leaving!”
“Excuse me Mr. Holmes, I don’t recall scheduling a meeting with you for this afternoon.”
I leaned across the seat to him to whisper in his ear. “If you don’t come with me this time, next time you meet me I’ll handcuff myself to you.” The hairs on his neck stood up where my breath brushed them. I looked him dead in the eye; I wasn’t joking.
He considered me for a moment, assessing the conviction in my eyes. Then he took the final sip of his drink, taking his time. I grabbed the bag, put the book back and slid a swiss franc over to the bartender.
“Danke!”
Then I grabbed William’s wrist and yanked him out the bar before he could run off.
—
“Your quarters?” Liam enquired, gaze surveying the room.
I hadn’t let him go until we had got back here and shut the door. And. I may have locked it and put the key in the inner pocket of my shirt. I wasn't above playing dirty. Surprisingly, he hadn’t put up much of a fuss being led through the small town. The inn I stayed at was relatively quiet, and golden hour sun was filtering through the windows. His hair shone as he looked around.
“Liam.” I said.
He turned to me.
“I caught you.”
His head tilted, and he put his hands behind his back. Still the very picture of elegance and innocence.
“What’s my prize?” I asked him.
His voice dropped to a quiet murmur. “Mr. Holmes. I do appear to be caught. For a little while, at least. What would you like to do with this time?”
I stepped closer to him, eyes on the softness of his lips. “I think you might already know the answer to that.”
His blush lasted a couple of seconds, this time.
“As surprising as it once was for me, yes, I believe I do. For whatever reason.” He drew a small breath in.
“Liam.” My voice was quiet as I looked up into his eyes. I tried to convey my sincerity. “Do I have your permission?”
He stared at me in silence for a long time.
“This is new to me. You may have to excuse me, at times." He paused for a moment, as if finalising his decision in his mind. "But yes, you do. Come and catch me, Mr. Holmes.” With that, he smirked.
And that was it.
I grabbed both his hands and pressed him backwards into the wall. Pinned his hands above his head and pressed my body into his. Our eyes were mere centimeters apart, and his breath faltered slightly.
I pushed his wrists into the wall once more with a thump. “Caught you,” I whispered against his lips. Then I pressed forward and kissed him.
I pressed my lips against his firmly, but relatively innocently. Testing the waters. He looked at me with those red, red eyes, pupils black. Our breath was shallow now, trapped together in this moment. I pressed his wrists more firmly against the wood, then kissed him again.
Light kisses, one after the other, the sound of our lips shooting my blood downwards. Then I tested the waters again, opening my mouth slightly against his. He kept his closed: another challenge. I kissed him more, our noses brushing, my mouth slightly open, putting more pressure into him with each kiss. Then I took his lower lip and brushed my tongue against it, and he parted his lips in surprise. Bingo.
My tongue touched his, and immediately a growl started in my throat. I swirled them together, testing him, wanting to devour him. My kisses turned wetter and heavier, and he responded in kind. Soon we were near enough consuming each other.
When we broke away, he swallowed. His cheeks were red, breath coming out heavy. Not so composed anymore, and his emotive face sent desire swirling downward. I pressed more kisses to his lips, our tongues brushing against each other. I pulled his tongue into my mouth and sucked on it, earning a grunt. Then I broke away and pressed kisses into his cheeks, down his jaw, to his neck. I took his earlobe in my teeth and lightly nibbled, and he very quietly moaned in response.
I nibbled down his neck, and clearly it was a sensitive area because small noises came from his throat. Then I took a part of his neck in my lips and sucked hard. The moan I got in response was delightful. I bit down, going to town on all the skin I could find, then went back to his lips. His eyes were blown full, breath coming out in gasps, and I stretched his hands high above his head as I kissed him deeply.
Soon enough we were both aching for more. I could feel us growing large down there against each other, and I pressed down. God, he felt good like this. Finally caught.
I picked him up from the wall and moved us toward the bed, slowly. Didn’t want to move too fast, sensitive to him now that we’d gotten here.
Hand on his waist, I guided him back onto the bed. He looked up at me, hair sprawled on the sheets, smile on his face.
“That wicked tongue of yours,” he said with a grin.
God, hard to believe he was actually here.
I teased my fingers at the buttons of his shirt. “Can I?” I asked quietly.
He nodded up at me, and I began removing his bowtie. I undid the buttons of his shirt slowly, one by one. Gradually, his pale chest was revealed to me, and I let out a little whine from my throat. I immediately had to kiss it. Everywhere that I could. Kisses, little nibbles, a small suck of the nipple. Another button opened. He gasped quietly, twitching at every ministration I could give. I kissed down his navel as it was revealed to me, his stomach twitching more as I gently kissed the sensitive skin under his belly button. I removed his jacket and shirt, then slid my hands under his armpits to hold his bare shoulders and kiss his lips once more.
Gosh, this was so soft.
He stretched his arms over his head and laid there, a beautiful sight to behold.
“God Liam,” I said quietly. “I’m so lucky.”
There he hesitated, bringing his arms back down and looking away.
I grasped his chin in one hand to bring his face towards mine. He sat up, next to me.
“Sherlock. I still don’t understand something. Why did you save me.” His head was tilted down.
This was tender territory, conflicting with the previous desires and satisfaction at having caught him. It usually was basically impossible territory, but with William it seemed… natural.
“Liam, look at me.” He did. “You’re my counterpart. Why would I let you die? You did all of that for them. Fuck that. I mean, what you did was great. Yeah, your methods were debatable. But your mind led the country to what you knew it would when following your plan. I can’t really complain at you.
“And with regards to the blood spilt. We can work, we can help people. I know we can. You can help others. It… you don’t deserve death, Liam. I’m sorry, but I just can’t accept that.”
He stared in my eyes for a moment, and sighed. “I still don’t know. I’m still a little mad. But while you trusted my great plan… Now I guess I’m resigning to the fact that I have to trust you, here.”
I smiled, huge, a big grin at that news. “You’re trusting me.” A fact.
I pulled him over. “C’mere.”
He straddled me, looking a little nervous, as if he’d never been in such a compromising, inelegant position. But I grabbed round his waist and held tight. Cupped his neck and brought his lips down to mine. He put his arms around my shoulders and kissed back, softly, carefully.
Then he pulled at my shirt. “Off.”
I tore my jacket and shirt off, then pushed him back onto the bed. I grabbed his wrists again and chuckled at him, pinning him to the bed. He looked positively ravishing. “You’re mine for the night.”
“All night? You think you can have me caught for that long?”
“From what I plan to do, you will not want to get up again before passing out. Trust me.” I winked at him, and he blushed deeply.
“I’m not… I’m aware, certain things have to be done for us to…” He cleared his throat. “I’m not, you know.”
I grinned widely down at his frowning face. Never had he ever been so unrefined with his words.
“Liam, darling, I’ve been wanting this for GOD knows how long. You think I care if things are a little messy? Plus, we don’t have to do that.”
He looked up at me with a calm gaze. “But I want to.”
Now it was my turn to blush. I leaned down to kiss him again. “Well then, my previous statement exists.”
He wriggled his hands free and wrapped them around my shoulders, stroking my back as we kissed lazily, our tongues stroking each other. He felt round to my front, hands moving over the muscles of my abs, stroking my waist, up my back. I held his face and kissed him gently. I knew this territory existed somewhere between care and sensitivity for Liam, and our mutual desire.
I looked down at him. “Can I do something?”
He looked back, then nodded, trusting me.
“Turn over.” I commanded.
He did so, and I felt around the front of his trousers at the waistline, undoing the button and shucking them down slightly. Then pulled at the white shorts underneath, until his rear was exposed. I could tell he was breathing deeper with nerves, but he didn’t stop me.
I moved down, kissing his buttcheek, moving closer to the center.
As if realising, Liam jerked. “Wait-”
I held his hands to the sheets for a moment, then parted his cheeks.
“Sherlock, I’m not…”
“It’s okay.” I whispered against the cheeks. “Trust me.”
He quietened down and faced the sheets as if to smother his embarrassment.
I, once again, would not take for granted this trust he placed in me.
I kissed between his cheeks softly, and he jolted. Then I licked, and he moaned. Satisfied that his nerves were settled, I got to work, kissing and licking around him, moaning myself. I very softly bit, then wriggled my tongue inside, eating him out like a starving man. It felt so damn good. And the fact that he was placing himself in my arms like this. I kissed deeper, pushing my tongue in and out, fucking him with my tongue until he was moaning constantly. God, yes.
I ate his ass until I couldn’t hold back anymore, then sucked a finger into my mouth, lathering it up thoroughly before pressing it slowly inside. He gasped and moaned slightly, moving, and I slowly pushed my finger in and out. It was aided by the softening my tongue had done. I curled and pressed my finger, slowly rubbing the walls until he jolted with a groan.
I chuckled to myself softly and continued rubbing the area, getting reactions from him until I lathered up another finger and slipped it in beside the first. He tightened slightly at the stretch until he relaxed, and I could feel him softly pulsing around my fingers. God. I slowly stretched him, taking my time and kissing his cheeks next to my fingers, sometimes licking around them where they joined, and pressing against the spot inside him.
At three fingers, he hissed, and I took them all out and lathered them thoroughly with saliva again. Gradually I worked them in, marvelling at the sight of him opening up to me.
Eventually, he let out a tight “Sherlock” and I pulled away, gently turning him back over. He was staring at me with flushed cheeks, pupils blown wide and wet lips, cock stretched obscenely red and dripping onto his torso. Jesus.
I wiped my fingers on the sheets, then quickly pulled his trousers and under-shorts off, taking time to undo his boots and pull them off too. I removed my shoes, trousers and shorts quickly, then searched around for my jacket. With a great deal of shame, I produced a small vial of oil from the pocket.
William's gaze raked me from feet to head and my hairs raised under the attention. I felt myself dripping as his blown-out eyes stopped on my cock. When they moved upwards and he saw the vial, he raised an eyebrow, high. “And just when did you pick that up?” he asked.
“Umm… Somewhere near Rennes in France?” I showed my teeth sheepishly. “Just in case!”
He rolled his eyes. “And I assume you didn’t pick up anything else for us to use?”
“I mean… I’m clean. Definitely!” Gosh, I sounded like an excited puppy.
“Fine. Come here and have your way with me then, Mr. Holmes.”
His red eyes pierced mine, and the smirk sent a thrill down to my twitching cock. I unscrewed the vial and poured it into my hand, coating myself thoroughly, then took his thighs into my hands and pulled him forward.
“Are you ok like this?” I asked gently.
“Yes, Sherlock.”
I grinned at the use of my first name, then took his hands in mine, pressing them to the sheets beside his head. I let go of one to gently push my head into him, slowly, the oil making everything slide so much easier but his muscles still softly contracting around me. I quickly took his other hand back again and laced his fingers with mine, looking deep into his eyes. He tensed up a few times, but relaxed again, taking small breaths and eyes roving over my face. He leaned up to kiss me, softly, and my heart felt like it was about to burst.
“Go on.”
I softly pressed forward, moaning at the sensation, pushing into him. It was so warm, so tight, and I leaned down to share breath with him as our eyes glazed. Fuck.
I pushed forward until I sank fully into him, hips pressed to his ass. We both moaned - he looked positively debauched, eyes glazed over and cheeks and neck red, hair sweaty.
He took a few breaths, then leaned up to bite my lip. “Move.”
Fuck, ok. I pulled out slowly, then pushed back in, testing the waters. We moaned in synchronisation at the feeling, god it felt so good. I pulled out further and pushed in harder. He gasped, gripping my fingers tightly.
Then my hips took over, setting a rhythm, pushing in, dragging out, pumping in. I alternated from soft rocks to harder thrusts, and he moaned at every movement. I leaned over and we exchanged tongues, mouths moving together until I could taste him everywhere. I sucked his tongue and kissed him, fucking him deeply, building up speed as our groans pushed into each other’s throats. Then I leaned up and adjusted my angle, giving hard thrusts to test until I found the spot that made him yell.
“Fuck!” he cried. I pushed that spot hard, gripping the back of his thighs and he gripped the bedsheets.
He looked up at me, almost confusion in his eyes from the pleasure, mouth hanging open, wet, face red, hair everywhere, some plastered to his forehead. His chest was red, too, and I leaned down to quickly suck on a nipple and bite down before leaning back up to fuck him in that spot. He moaned loudly, and I fucked him quicker, headboard banging against the wall. He moaned constantly now, his cock forming a pool of pre-come on his belly. I was moaning too.
“Sh-Sherlock. Sherlock,” he moaned.
I leaned over him, keeping my hips at the same angle but needing to taste his lips. I bit down gently, rolling his bottom lip between my teeth as I moaned into his mouth and pushed myself in deep.
“Liam,” I said into his lips. “Liam I like you.”
He moaned, face scrunching, tears pooling in his eyes. “Sherlock, touch me.”
I leaned back up, his eyes on mine the whole time, and grabbed his cock, which was hot and red, partly wet. I moved my hand slightly and he cried out, tears running down his cheeks. I fucked him hard, angling my hips right for that spot on every thrust. My own release was coming.
“Liam. Fuck, Liam, you feel so fucking good.” I thrusted harder. “Please, god, yes.”
He moaned and on one hard shake of my hand, was coming all over himself. He plastered his chest with come, giving little spurts again and again as I fucked him through it, stroking him slowly. On one final spurt he tightened hard around my cock, and that was it. Closing my eyes I held on, pulling his hips close to me and releasing deep inside him with a groan. I pulled his hips in tiny thrusts as I kept spilling, my brain stopping, vision gone.
After a few breaths, I fell forward carefully, onto my forearms, and slowly blinked open my eyes. He was looking at me softly, a smile on his face. God. So much tenderness in that expression.
I could do nothing but lean down and kiss him. Try and convey everything I meant in that kiss.
Eventually, panting, I leaned back and slowly pulled out of him, coming to rest on the bed beside him. I picked up a sock, wiped him down, then cuddled him close, pressing my face into his neck and catching my breath.
“That was good.” He said simply.
I knew from him, that meant a lot.
“Liam, darling,” I said with a grin. “That was wonderful. Ooh. Yes.” I stretched out luxuriously like a cat, then flopped back with a noise.
He looked at me. “Shower time,” he decided, picking up my hand in his and leading me to the bathroom.
“How about a bath?” I said with a grin.
He nodded, so we heated the water up, steam rising in the small room, and put the body soap and shampoo next to the tub. He stood beside me quietly until the water rose enough, and we got in together. He sat in front of me, leaning back against me and I ran my fingers through his hair. He may as well be purring like a cat.
I wrapped my arms around him contentedly.
“What next, hun.”
He turned his head with a raised eyebrow.
“Confused with all these pet names, hm?” I nuzzled my cheek into his. “I won’t let you go so easily this time.”
He sighed softly. “Well in regards to what’s next. I will be making contact with my brother at some point. A small letter only he will be able to decode.
“And as for us.” He looked over at me thoughtfully. “Solving crimes? You must make good on that promise to show me what life is possible.”
I smiled.
“Yes. Liam.”
I cleaned him out carefully, then washed his hair softly, marvelling at every drip of water down his lightly muscled back. He was so beautiful. In fact-
“You are so beautiful, Liam.”
He turned his head in shock, blushing.
I smiled, holding him again.
We dried off once we were clean, drained the water and dressed back into our under-clothes. We were both too tired and content for much conversation. We tidied slightly, and when the room wasn’t quite such a chaotic mess of clothes, we slipped under the sheets. Both content, sleepy.
I pulled him tight to my chest, sighing into his hair, and kissed his smooth forehead.
He rested his head on my arm and looked up at me as our eyes started to feel heavy, gaze searching mine for a long monent.
“Thank you, Sherly,” he said.
— FIN