Interruptions (John/Sherlock)

John thinks for a moment of how to punish Sherlock without ruining the flirting.

"I'll give you a penalty. You don't get to fully remove all of my clothes later, you have to leave at least on article of clothing on me, and no- socks do not count. Now quit cheating, or you'll get more penalties."

"Ok, you want something harder...stop smirking, that wasn't meant to be a pun," John says, though he can't help but laugh a little too.

"Someone with an uncommon food allergy, not seafood or nuts."

((I'll skip today. Great news: I got a boyfriend! But now I'm so tired. Sorry :}))

((Wow!!! Go you!!!!! Works out fine, I was travelling all day.))

Sherlock snickered at John's pun. It was really hard to look serious and look John in the eye challengingly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow and pouted his lips disappointedly.

"One piece of clothing... Well, if I leave your pants on and tease you unmercifully, I would like to hear you speak again."

Sherlock tapped with two fingers against his lips. An uncommon allergy was not easily discovered.

"That one, indeed, is harder." Sherlock raised his eyebrow again in the short pause he took, letting the words sink in.

"Allergies aren't very clearly visible. I can usually tell if someone has an allergy or not if I've seen the person eat or talk about about food. And I've not seen anyone eat except today, except for you of course. But I know you don't have an uncommon allergy."

"I could make a vague guess, but that's not my game. Give me data. I can't make bricks without clay."

Sherlock pouts again. He hated to admit it.

"I lost this one then."

((Yay for canon quote!!!))

John looks over at Sherlock with a smile, and runs his fingers up Sherlock's arm to his shoulder. With it there, he carefully rubs his fingers into the muscle lightly.

"Well then, it seems I get a prize this time. Later tonight I am going to give you a massage. Your neck and back have been sore lately, I've can tell you've been stiff these last few days. I'll massage your shoulders to loosen them up. I was planning on offering anyways, I even brought some oil with me that should help."

"Sorry though, I understand that the last one might have been difficult to see."

"Hmm, how about...someone with a child, but the child isn't here at the station."

((Maybe car comes right after this one?))

((YAY Glad you saw that one ;) Couldn't resist :)))

Sherlock followed John's hand with his eyes up to his shoulder, just as he had done when Irene had touched him like that. The difference was that he actually liked to be touched right now and that he smiled slightly.

Subconsciously, he stroked the back of his neck with his fingertips. John was right, he had been sore. A few days running without scarf was no good for his throat. He had done a lot of standing the past few days, which wasn't good for his back and shoulders too, so a massage sounded quite lovely. Losing wasn't that bad in the end.

"Someone with a child, who's not at the station..." Sherlock repeated slowly. He looked around. The train had left 20 minutes ago, so the station was deserted. In the corner of his eye, he saw a posh black car turning the corner. Sherlock got that glint in his eyes that appeared when he was up to something.

"Perhaps the driver?"

"Sherlock, you're guessing."

"Shut up, I'm not going to loose again. Though maybe-"

He was interrupted by the car pulling up and the driver getting out of it. He was a short man, shorter than John, and bald, but neatly dressed in a suit and a kind face. He walked around the car to introduce himself.

"My name is Andrew Williams, are you Mr Sherlock Holmes?"

"Pleasure." Sherlock took Andrew's hand and shook it. With a downside glance, he saw a wedding ring around his ring finger. So maybe his guess would be a right one.

"And this is...?"

Sherlock sighed. They were an internet phenomenon and infiltrated the newspapers, but apparently, that news didn't reach the posh in the middle of nowhere.

"This is my fiancé and colleague, Dr John Watson."

Andrew only raised his eyebrows in reaction to 'fiancé', but nevertheless reached out his hand to shake John's. They packed their suitcases in the car, got in and drove away. The surroundings were green, leafy, and boring, really. It was only a 20 minutes' ride, but boring anyway. Sherlock let his gaze wander off in the car and saw an old picture of a man and a woman and two kids. After a moment of staring, Sherlock could distinguish Andrew as the man, though he still had had hair on the picture.

Sherlock nudged John and nodded in the direction of the picture. Sherlock smirked widely and insanely happy with this silly coincidence.

John was enjoying looking out at the scenery on the drive, though he could tell Sherlock was not pleased or impressed.

Then, he felt the nudge of Sherlock's elbow, and looked over to see the picture Sherlock was pointing at. John chuckled softly.

"You have the most unbelievable luck. Well then, it seems you have won the whole game."

John leaned over and tugged Sherlock close so he could whisper in his fiance's ear.

"Grand prize- you get to plan the whole rest of the evening. After I give you the massage, you are in charge, my commanding officer for the night."

Sherlock's eyes darkened for a moment. John ever-so-lightly stroked a single finger up the inside seam of Sherlock's trousers, stopping just shy of his crotch.

"I look forward to seeing what you decide to do with me tonight, sir," John breathes into Sherlock's ear, just as they pull through the gates of the manor house.

Sherlock's cheeks flushed, his pupils dilated and his breath hitched. He followed John's finger with his eyes, before looking up and meeting John's. His breath, the authority John gave him, oh God. And the things he promised. Good Lord, John had such an impact on him, he should find it ridiculous, but he thought it was quite arousing.

Which wasn't a good time to think. The car pulled up in front of the entrance and Sherlock felt his arousing mood transforming into physical form. And he was about to meet a client. Not the right timing.

But hot anyway.

They stepped out of the car. The car had pulled up in front of the manor. It was a grand house, exactly what you would expect of a posh gentry house in the middle of nowhere. The doors were held open by two maids. Sherlock and John were told to leave their suitcases behind, they would be taken care of. Sherlock took John's hand while walking up the stairs. Sherlock swallowed, thinking hard about not his dick and the promises happenings later that night.

In that moment, he hated his body. He hated it that he had no control over it and that he was being swept away by his emotions. He hated it that he had no idea what to do. He squeezed John's hand lightly, hoping he would catch up his dreadful attempt of calling for help.

((Aw, poor Sherlock!))

John felt the squeeze on his hand and glanced over at Sherlock. He saw a small bit of panic in Sherlock's eyes, then glanced down to Sherlock's crotch.

Oh. Oops. He hadn't meant to do that, not right at this moment.

John bit his lip, feeling guilty. Then, he got an idea for a way to cool Sherlock off a bit.

John leaned up to Sherlock and quietly, but trying to keep his whisper from coming across as seductive, said the worst possible words he could think of:

"Mycroft and Anderson wearing revealing frilly pink dresses and snogging in St. Barts."

((Got a lot of visitors today, + Christmas dinner is starting, so I'm skipping today :3. Merry Christmas!))

((That's fine- I have to do all the Christmas baking myself. Have a Happy Christmas!!!))

(('kay, back! I hope you had merry Christmas days!))

Images of the situation John sketched for him flashed in front of his eyes. Sherlock's eyes widened in shock when the vision's effect kicked in. It was more than enough to kill his erection, surely. After a few blinks, Sherlock bowed down and whispered stoically something back in John's ear.

"I feel I ought to thank you, but I am not sure whether I'm thankful or not."

A shiver ran down Sherlock's spine when he recalled the image. Well, at least his boner was cooled down. Just in time, because the Baron de Mauley was waiting for them in the living room.

The Baron was a sharply dressed man. Sherlock estimated him not much older than sixty-five, though not over seventy-five. He wore glasses and his hair was greying at the sides. His crown was balding. He wore a bow-tie and looking over it all, he looked much like a professor. He even got the stern face as he looked at John's and Sherlock's hands, fingers entangled.

"Good day, gentlemen. I hope your journey was a pleasant one?"

"Excellently pleasant, sir. Thank you."

Sherlock kept both his expression and his voice as stern as the man in front of him, but he couldn't resist a light squeeze in John's hand when he made the pun.

"I am Baron de Mauley, your host and employer for this case. You must be Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock shook the hand the Baron stretched out for him. He nodded, confirming his name.

"And you are...?"

De Mauley looked questioningly at John as if he was surprised Sherlock had brought someone with him.

"This is John Watson, my colleague and fiancé."

To Sherlock's surprise, De Mauley mirrored his surprise. Sherlock thought the news would have spread even here, especially when de Mauley had had contact with Mycroft. But apparently not.

((Shall we do a case like 'the Musgrave Ritual' but maybe more complex and longer?))

((Sure, sounds good.))
((Had a lovely Christmas. How about you?))

DeMauley does his best to compose himself.

"Oh, how...modern of you...I didn't...know matter. Welcome, it's Dr. Watson, correct? I believe I recall from the papers that you are a doctor?"

"Yes, thank you. Your home is magnificent."

"Thank you, doctor. I'm afraid that it's charm has faded somewhat in these past few weeks, as foul events have taken place. However, I suspect you are in need of refreshment after your journey, and I would rather we had this conversation in private. Please, come with me to my study and I will have a light luncheon brought in, then we can discuss the reason why I called you hear."

DeMauley gestures to a porter, who takes the bags, walking off up the stairs. John and Sherlock follow the Count to an impressive study full of books and old-fashioned navigational tools.

((Do you want to write out the death and ritual?))

((I had a nice Christmas, thank you!))

Sherlock and John are lead to the grand study. Sherlock was impressed by it, remembering the study he had when he was a little kid. This one was as big as his used to be. It was the only place of peace and intelligence he had, so Sherlock immediately felt comfortable. They were gestured to take a seat on a comfortable sofa. De Mauley closed the door behind them. Across from the coffee table in front of them, Count de Mauley took his seat in the armchair he obviously usually sat in.

Just a few moments after De Mauley had showed them the study, a maid walked in with luncheon and tea. John wanted to eat, but Sherlock didn't of course. Count de Mauley waited until they heard the door clicking close, before he began to speak in earnest.

"Now, Mr Holmes, we can talk in private. I have heard of you brother that you prefer the interviewed to talk quickly, but-"

"Take your time for the details."

De Mauley took a deep breath to begin his narrative.

"But be quick."

De Mauley composed his irritation and finally started talking.

"Three years ago, my wife died. We have children who are all adults and living out. Despite I am alone, I keep up a considerable staff. Altogether there are eight maids, the cook, the butler, two footmen and a horse boy. The eldest and longest in service is the butler. He has shown great energy and spirit over these 20 years he has been with us now. His qualifications were brilliant, though there was one disadvantage of him. He was quite the Don Juan. I have heard he was married, but he still ended up in closets with my second housemaid: Rachel Howells. That was our first drama with him, but soon there came another."

"One day last week - on Thursday night, to be more exact - I couldn't sleep and wanted to read a book. I had left the book I wanted to read in the billiard-room. The billiard-room is two doors left from the one of the study. So I got up and made my way to the billiard-room when I spotted light in the study. The study is a private place of mine, the servants are not allowed to come here at night as I keep my private literature and notes here. So when I saw this room alight, I was surprised and shocked. So I crept on tiptoe down the hall and peeped in at the open door."

"The butler, Brunton, sat there-" De Mauley pointed at the grand oaken desk a few feet away from them. "fully dressed, in an easy-chair with a slip of paper that looked like a map upon his knee. He looked deep in thought and didn't see me. I realised he was scrutinizing a family document that is strictly confidential, so I stepped inside, astonished and angry. I threatened with dismissing him. He begged me to keep him and I remembered the 20 years of excellent service I had enjoyed and gave him one week to prove himself. He could do nothing but agree and left the study immediately."

"For two days after this, Brunton was most tidy in his attention to his duties. Neither of us have said anything about the happening of that night, but on the third day, he looked out of spirits. After I'd given him the duties for the day after breakfast, he went off. To his duties, I suggested then."

"That was three days ago. I've not seen him since. On the second day of his absence, I asked Rachel Howell, the maid, about his whereabouts, but she got angry, even hysterical. You see, she had discovered her illness two weeks ago, but her behaviour was so extravagant that I had an other servant employed to look after her for the night. She escaped through the window and was gone, alike her lover."

Sherlock expected that more would come, but the Count sat back as if he had finished his monologue.

"So?"

"I need you to find them."

"You must be kidding me."

"No I request in earnest that you-"

"You want me to find them!? I'm not your sniffer dog! Try the police!"

Sherlock was obviously getting more than a bit irritated. The Count did nothing but look a bit sterner in response to Sherlock's outburst.

"I have tried the police. They have found nothing. We've been to their houses, their family, their friends. Nothing. It's like they've disappeared from the earth. Their beds are not slept in, they've left all their belongings. They are gone."

"Then let them be gone, hire two other servants if you needed them!"

Sherlock raised his voice. He felt wronged, betrayed. He had hoped this case would have been interesting, but he felt like a circus animal, lured with a nice slice of meat, but not getting it in the end.

“I am being accused of murder, Mr Holmes! I can say in my deepest honesty that I have not committed murder.”

Sherlock, who had stirred in his seat as if he had wanted to stand up, stopped and let his eyes wander over the man in front of him. He was being honest and terrified of the accusation made upon him.

“You are innocent. Do you have an alibi? If so, just say so to the police.”

“Yes, I know! And no, I haven’t got one.”

“Employ a lawyer and not a detective, Count De Mauley. If you’ve told me everything I needed to hear, I fear I cannot help you.”

Sherlock was about to stand up, when something in Count de Mauley’s voice that stopped him.

“I’ve not told you everything. The family document.”

“Then, show it to me!”

“I can’t now. First I need to be sure I can trust you-“

Sherlock sighed and rolled with his eyes.

“I am sure there’s nothing in it for me. The only thing I want is a nice mystery to solve, marry my fiancé and live happily ever after. I don’t care for wealth, I don’t care for information. Now, show me the document.”

((ooooh this was a lot of fun to write!))
((i've moved the happenings to the 'present' so the riddle, the death and all is to come :)))

((It's great!))

John blushed when he came up on Sherlock's list of the few things he wanted. He knew how earnestly Sherlock desired to marry him, but he was still surprised every time Sherlock told other people.

He reached out and gently took Sherlock's hand, rubbing soothing circles into his palm to calm him down. He could tell how disappointed his fiance was.

John looks steadily at deMauley.

"You can trust Sherlock. We have enough trouble with the press and gossip in our own lives, neither of us would do that to another person. He does care about money either- if I didn't remind him about the rent, he wouldn't even bother charging for his services. Like he said, he is here because he wants a case to solve, and that is the only reason. I personally would like to help you, but we cannot do that if you don't trust us."

DeMauley still looks hesitant, and John gives an impatient huff. He stands up and looks at the Count sternly, giving his best military glare.

"Now look here, you are the one who called us here, it's not like we just popped up on your door step without invitation. We came all the way from London, because you asked asked. We did not have to come, and this really was an interruption to our private lives. If you are not going to trust us to help, please just tell us now so we can try and make it home by dinner."

The count blushes, looking down at his feet.

"You are right, I'm sorry. I'm not used to letting strangers into my private affairs. Please, sit down, I'll get the manuscript."

John sits down, rolling his eyes.

"Doesn't trust strangers, but can't be bothered to open his own door, ponce," John mutters under his breath.

Sherlock's mind was pulled back to earth when he felt John's hand on his and steady circles drawn in his palm. It was good to have John by his side, otherwise he maybe would have shouted and left in the end. He closed his fingers around John's palm and took his time to calm down, looking down at their hands.

When John used his military voice, Sherlock couldn't help but grin a little. He looked up at John and then to de Mauley who was sunken deep into his armchair, looking at his feet. John would get a kiss for that later, Sherlock thought by himself. But he couldn't help but steal a peck on the cheek when Count deMauley was searching for the document in the top drawer of the desk.

DeMauley got back with a slip of paper. Sherlock held it carefully between his fingers and read the typewritten text.

'Whose was it?'
'His who is gone.'
'Who shall have it?'
'He who will come.'
('What was the month?'
'The sixth from the first.')
'Where was the sun?'
'Over the oak.'
'Where was the shadow?'
'Under the elm.'
'How was it stepped?'
'North by ten and by ten, east by five and by five, south by two and by two, west by one and by one, and so under.'
'What shall we give for it?'
'All that is ours.'
'Why should we give it?'
'For the sake of the trust.'

Sherlock frowned. He could make nothing of it, but then: he hadn't inspected the grounds yet.

"Oooh this is interesting! A riddle, two servants missing, and an old county house? This is a classic! Sir, I think it is time to have a walk around the grounds, what about you?"

Sherlock's spirits had lifted. Almost cheerily, he got up and put the paper in the inner pocket of his jacket. DeMauley looked like he wanted to interrupt Sherlock in the process.

"What happened to trust?" Sherlock looked at him like Mycroft could do sometimes -eyebrows raised, a look that totally said that the speaker was right-. Sherlock hated the look, it made him feel small and childish, but now it had effect.

"All right. You are rather unusual guests, I perceive. If you would follow me."

((So tired, going to sleep now :)))

John read the piece of paper over Sherlock's shoulder, but he really couldn't make heads or tails of it. Still though, he could feel Sherlock's excitement growing, and that made him happy. As the count started to walk out of the study ahead of them, John stopped Sherlock for just a second to pull him into a tight hug and peck a kiss to his lips.

"Glad this is turning out to be more interesting for you."

John and Sherlock then eagerly follow deMauley out to manor grounds.

If John had to describe the grounds he would say they were very big and green. Lots of rolling hills and plants of various sorts- shrubs and trees, as well as other things. They were all clearly cultivated, but done in a way to make it still look fairly natural.

Suddenly, they hear a shout, turn, and see a horse galloping straight for them, a man chasing after it. They all scramble back, but as the horse comes near John steps forward again, bracing himself and holding out his hands.

The horse rears up in front of him, kicking out. John ducks back, but stands firm, reaching out trying to calm it. The horse settles, prancing back and forth.

"Easy there, easy..." John murmurs, softly, stroking the horse's neck."

The man finally catches up.

"Are you bloody mad?!" he askes John, half impressed, half annoyed, "You're lucky you didn't just have your 'ead knocked in! Thank you. No idea what spooked 'er, she went bolting off like a dart as soon as I opened the gate."

The man slips a bridle over the horse's head.

"I'm fine," John says calmly, "I've worked with horses in the past, and they tend to like me. I wasn't kicked, no harm done."

As he speaks, the horse sniffs his hair, decides it smells like food, and pulls off a clump to try and eat.

"Ow! Ok, no harm done until now. Just what do you think you're doing?" he asks the horse, pushing it's head away, "That's my hair, not your lunch."

"Take Selena back to the stables," the count orders sharply, "Dr. Watson, I apologize."

"It's fine, don't worry."

"Mr. Holmes, what were you wanting to see?"

((Ok, so...just decided to add something random in because I didn't know where to have them walk. Though actually, this part is somewhat based on my own life- I once had a horse attempt to eat my hair because it liked the smell of my floral-scented shampoo.))

((Oh my, that actually sounds rather terrifying! I would be scared as hell! I've had my foot aching because a horse stood on it. Ouch :P I do love horses though :)))

Sherlock gasped when he saw John disappear from his side to stand in front of that horse. For a moment, Sherlock thought it was over, John was going to get hit in the head by a hoof, the blow would cause a severe concussion and John would get in a coma. Sherlock saw it all happening in his mind.

"JOHN!"

The horse calmed down and Sherlock let out a sigh of relief, though he was still very angry at John for pulling such a stunt. He trotted briskly over to John.

"You idiot! Do you actually realise that-..? You could have...!" Sherlock threw his hands in the air, waving vaguely. "That they 'tend to like you' is by far not good enough data to jump in front of them! Don't dare to do that ever again okay!?"

Sherlock took John's head in both hands and inspected his head.

"Are you ok? Did it eat your hair?"

But no harm was done on John's head. Sherlock sighed once more and pulled John in a tight hug. So when he felt John under his fingers and from the corner of his eye saw the man with the horse leave, he calmed down. He released John after giving him a chaste peck on his lips. He didn't care if deMauley saw them, he didn't care at all. He may be overreacting a bit, but he just wanted to show John he was just worried.

"Mr Holmes? I don't understand what we are doing here. I don't understand the riddle at all too. What does this walk have to do with the document? It seems hardly practical to me."

"Oh but the riddle is immensely practical. Did your butler ever ask you about an elm tree?"

The Count looked startled.

"An elm tree? We only have one. And yes he did, a week before the encounter in the library. He asked really weird things. The height of it, for example. I couldn't see why he wanted to know."

"Oh your butler was a clever one, far cleverer than you. Ah, there is the elm tree! And the oak too!"

Sherlock walked around them, inspecting their roots. Then, he looked up to the sun and down to the shadow. He retrieved his smartphone from his pocket and enabled the GPS. After waiting a few seconds, his phone told him where the north was.

"How did you answer your butler's question?" Sherlock muttered absent-mindedly. His mind was deduction-mode now.

"It's sixty-four feet."

"Hmmm." Sherlock murmured. He positioned himself in a line so that the tree was between him and the sun. The sun was still high in the sky and it would take a while until the sunlight would touch the highest breaches.

"We'll have to wait until early sunset to continue."

((Do you know how the story continues or do I have to explain it? (just checking ;)))

((I was really little, so it was terrifying, though the horse was behind a fence so not as scary as what happened to John. Had to have my mom explain that the horse thought my hair smelled like flowers and made a mistake- I was convinced it was man-eating))
((It's been a long time since I last read it- I know there's a secret underground chamber, and the butler ends up crushed by a big stone slab, and they end up finding the crown of Charles the First, but that's it.))

John lets Sherlock fret over him, a little surprised by how worried he is.

"I've tackled thugs with guns before and you didn't worry at all, but you panic over this?" he softly questions, "You're assessment of danger confuses me a bit."

He hugs Sherlock back.

"I'm alright, no injuries, it's ok. Sorry for frightening you, love."

They find the tree, and John's not quite sure what Sherlock's found, but he's guessing (from memories of old adventure novels with buried treasure) that at a certain point of day the trees will make a shadow that leads to a hidden chamber or something- though that does seem a bit fanciful.

"Well," deMauley says, "sunset won't come around until 6, so it will be a few hours. You're welcome to entertain yourselves as you wish. I would normally recommend horse-riding, but given what just happened perhaps not."

Sherlock wraps an arm protectively around John's waist.

"No, I rather we returned to the house."

John rolls his eyes, but doesn't argue, "I wouldn't mind going back. I would actually love a chance to rest a bit, we had to get up early for the train."

"Very well, if you come back to the house I will have one of the footmen show you to your rooms. I had originally put you in two separate rooms, but if that is unnecessary..?"

"It is. I'm assuming we just ask the man to move the bags into one room?"

"Yes, just do that."

They walk back to the house. Sherlock starts going up the stairs, but right before he goes to follow him, deMauley catches John's arm.

"Dr. Watson, perhaps this seems overly forward of me, but...I have to ask...intimate relations, with another man...are they much different than with a woman?"

John turns bright red, "Umm, well...ah, for me at least...please understand sir, Sherlock is the only man I've ever...ah, been intimate with. In that case, it has been...better, but that's because I love him, very much. My guess is that in general it's the same as with a woman, it all depends on the other person. I'm sorry if that's not a helpful answer."

DeMauley simply nods, "It is good to know. He seems to care about you very much. I had heard that he was a cold man, and I see it in how he talks with me. It's different though, when he is talking to you."

"Um, thank you? I should be going now."

John hurries up the stairs and away from awkward conversations. He finds the room right as the bellman was leaving. He walks in to find Sherlock pacing.

"Sorry, count had a question. So, tell me if my guess is correct: we need the sun in a certain place to wait for a shadow that will show a set place on the grounds, that's why we're waiting for sunset?" he asks Sherlock.

((Oh, that's enough. I don't think you need to know more :)))

Sherlock smirked widely. That's my boy. he thought. John was the fastest to pick things up and be right about them. Sherlock adored him for it. He took a few steps forward so he got close to John and kissed him lightly, just because he could.

"Yes exactly! Just like those fictional detective adventures! I thought they were just foolish dreams of writers, but they actually exist! Riddles and all! Oh this is a classic!"

Sherlock was out of his spirits. He let go of John and almost danced through the room, so happy he was. This was a nice mystery and the surroundings seemed so much nicer now he had something to preoccupy his mind with. Everything seemed greener and Sherlock even wanted to go and explore the grounds more. Except for the horses. No horses allowed around John.

"Oh, about the horses and my assessment of danger: I know people. I know how people think, what they do etc. and I know how you would react in dangerous situations. I do not do so about animals. Animals are uncontrollable. You see it with dogs every day. They have to be kept captive and on a leash, otherwise they would misbehave. Just like horses. Plus I didn't know how you would react once faced with an upset animal. You rather surprised me with your impulse."

Sherlock was done dancing and stood in front of John again, looking lovingly down at him.

"I thought I'd lose you for a moment. I mean, the horse could have kicked you in the face! Well, that's why I reacted so- so- you know."

Sherlock shrugged. John would understand, surely.

"What did the Count want? Did he want us to be quiet now we sleep in the same room?" Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes. He thought the Count was a ridiculous aristocrat, so he thought the worst.

John watches, smiling, as Sherlock danced around the room. He loves seeing Sherlock so happy and excited like this.

When he gets the explanation about Sherlock's reaction to the horse, he nods, Ah, now I understand. That does actually make sense. I'm glad you explained this to me, I'll try to keep it in mind in the future."

John chuckles over Sherlock's assumption about the count, "No, thank goodness. I'd rather not have to worry about making noise again."

He walks over and wraps his arms around Sherlock, laying his head against Sherlock's chest.

"Actually, he was curious as to whether I found 'intimate relations,' as he called it, different with a man than with a woman. I told him that I wasn't the best person to ask, because my only real experience with men was with you. I told him I found my 'relations' with you to be much better than any I'd had in the past, but I think the reasoning for that was more to do with your identity than your gender. I am positive that if I were to have sex with any other man, not that I'd ever want to now that I have you, I wouldn't find it nearly as enjoyable, even though I now am fairly comfortable with how it works."

He stretches up and presses a kiss to Sherlock's nose.

"Now that I have you, no one else can come close."

Sherlock chuckled too. He remembered their orgasmic adventure on the train. God, being silemt had been tedious back then. He embraced John with open arms.

Frowning, Sherlock thought the new data about the Count over. That was rather weird of him to ask so. Was the Count doubting his sexuality? No, could not be. No staffmembers, nor guests were in his age group and/or male. It must have been sheer curiosity, but to ask John so bluntly, was very 'modern' of this conservative aristocrat who was +/- 70 years of age. Back in the days of his childhood, Sherlock knew, homosexuality was perceived as a sin, a sickness to be cured. Surely the man could not questin himself.

But why did he ask then?

Sherlock was subconsciously thinking this over, when his awareness was drawn back to reality as John mentioned having sex with an other male. But his little tilt-moment was immediaely soothed by the lovely things John said.

"That's true. I won't let man, or horse come close."

Sherlock leaned in and kissed John on his forehead. Then, he tucked John's head under his chin and murmured:

"I obviously don't feel like sleeping, but if you're feeling tired and want to lay down for a bit, I won't bother you.'

((by the way: do you have some sort of secret plan with the count? Because why did he ask? :p))

((No ulterior motive other than John being able to talk about how much he loves Sherlock, and how sexy Sherlock is. Figured if anything maybe the count sort of has a crush on another Parliament member, or is just trying to attempt to understand how this whole homosexuality thing works.))

"Mmm, not really tired. I wouldn't mind sitting together if you want to think over the case, or I may actually try to read my book from the train, if you need to pace."

John sat on the edge of the bed to take off his shoes. Then he flops back on the bed. He suddenly lets out a moan of pleasure.

"Oh my God, Sherlock, this might be the most comfortable mattress I've ever lain on. Holy crap, I didn't even know a bed could be this comfortable. This is just the man's guest bed. Who buys a guest bed this nice?"

((Note: Sadly, I am going away for 5 days and will not be able to update- I can't bring my laptop with me for this trip. I will be back on Wednesday night. I hope you have a nice weekend, and can't wait to come back to write!))

((Oh that's a pity. Have a nice trip! See you in a few days :)))

On the other side of the bed, Sherlock did the same with his shoes. He rolled with his shoulders, feeling a bit stiff. Then he flopped back on the bed next to John and too, let out a gasp of pleasure.

"Oh this is comfortable." Sherlock sighed.

"I don't need to pace, I don't need to talk about it, really. The case is simple enough. Almost disappointingly simple, but the riddle makes it nice. The next thing to do is stand on the top of the shadow-tree when the sun hits the tree's breaches. Then, just do as the riddle says:" Sherlock retrieved the slip of paper from his jacket. "We'll take ten steps to the north, five to the east, two to the west and so on and so on. I suspect we'll end up with a door in the wall, we'll go through and see then what happens. I think we'll meet the butler and his mistress somewhere on this journey, but I doubt their state of health."

Subconsciously, Sherlock had snuggled up against John's side, his hand on John's chest and a leg curled around John's, his face on John's shoulder near John's neck. He didn't feel sleepy at all, his excitement was a bit tempered by the comfortable bed.

Suddenly, Sherlock huffed a chuckle.

"Seems like I did needed to talk about it, otherwise I wouldn't have done it. Now my mind can rest and move on to other matters."

Sherlock crouched up John's chest, so that he hung above John's face, chest to chest.

"You, Dr Watson, appear to have a positive effect on my mental state, in contrary to all my fears I initially had when we started this relationship."

Sherlock leaned down to give a little peck on John's nose and look fondly down John. He loved the familiarity they'd achieved around each other. Sherlock had been terrified in the beginning that his concentration would be bothered with emotions, desires and such. But it all worked out fantastically in the end.

((Haha! Back!!!))
((Aww, so cute!!!))

John brushes a hand up along Sherlock's cheek and into his hair, then lets it trail down his shoulder.

"I'm glad, it makes me really happy to know I'm helpful to you that way. I love watching you work, your whole face almost seems to glow, you always look so alive and beautiful."

John leans up to place a kiss of his own onto Sherlock's forehead.

He wraps his arms around Sherlock's waist, holding the other man to him.