Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

The Red Snow	By : orceena Category: S through Z > Sherlock Holmes (2009) > Sherlock Holmes (2009) Views: 2450 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes or any of the characters within. I am not making any kind of profit from this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
The cab ride was silent. Watson had fixed his arm around Sherlock's back so his hand fell into the man's left pocket all the while maintaining the placement of the gun into Sherlock's ribs with his right hand. He made sure it was out of sight hiding it in Sherlock's pocket. Every time the cab bounced, it prodded his body reminding him each time of its existence. Before long, however, John had grown exhausted and slumped against his friend's body closing his eyes. Sherlock was never afraid of his situation. He loved John way too much to be afraid. Even if his life was being threatened. He still felt the affection from the other's man's body. John was strong and weak at the same. Confident, but timid as he hung to Sherlock for an answer. Sherlock lifted his other arm and wrapped it around his lover's neck kissing his forehead. John grunted and gripped his revolver harder. Sherlock smirked before closing his eyes as well resting their heads together. A bit of warmth for both of them against the cold day.
Finally, they approached the mortuary and exited the cab simultaneously. John never lost his grip on the man as he hid the gun under Sherlock's coat and pressed it to the back of his waist. They approached the counter man who had a newspaper in his hand. He looked up the two gentlemen and folded the paper over before addressing them
"Ah Watson and Holmes! Always a pleasure to see you. Who are you looking for today, aye?" he greeted with a smile on his face.
"My wife...Mary Watson. Her body was brought in two days ago," Watson replied solemnly over Holmes' shoulder.
"Aye, lad. Glad to see ya still standin' after what 'appened. Poor thing. It's a sad thing that. My sincerest condolences, sir. Wait right here, and I'll see to it she's ready for ya." He nodded before exiting from the room leaving them deathly alone. Sherlock sighed before he turned slightly to face his friend.
"Watson, I dare say, your arm must be exhausted from holding that heavy thing all the way here."
"It is slightly uncomfortable," Watson replied flattening his gun loaded hand against Sherlock's back.
"Then why do you insist on threatening me?"
"Holmes...I'm not stupid."
"I never said you were, old boy. But let's think about this for a moment. You have your arm around my back pressing the gun into me, rendering my escape nigh impossible. You are extremely strong for your small stature, and you have second weapon in your other pocket. I am out numbered."
"Ah, but don't forget, Holmes, you are, in fact, a remarkable man capable of subduing me in less then three seconds. The fact that you can see things before they happened, or plan before things happen is another fact as well. Therefore, I have doubled my efforts to ensure my hold on you so you don't run."
"There is one fact you forgot to mention, Watson."
"What is that, Holmes?" John was close to his ear. As he spoke, he moved his body closer to Sherlock noticing the flush in the sleuth's cheeks.
"I don't want to run," he whispered against John's lips. John was so ready to smash their mouths together when the coroner came back into the room forcing the two men apart.
"All ready for you, sir. Will you be making the funeral arrangements today as well?"
"I might as well," John replied eyeing the wall behind the man.
"Very good, sir. Right this way."
Quietly, they followed the mortician down a narrow hallway passing offices and autopsy rooms. Each were clean and sterilized, but the smell of death still hung in the air. John knew this smell all too well and never once had he wanted to vomit against it until now. His heart pounded in his chest as they entered a small room filled with surgery equipment. And there on the table, lay the body of his wife under a thin white sheet. Her feet pointed to the ceiling and her breasts shown through the cover. He could see her pale skin that he so desperately wished he could put color back into it. He almost lost his grip as his body slumped toward the floor. Sherlock quickly held him up not wanting the mortician to see the revolver.
"Shall I leave you alone, gentlemen?" he asked carefully.
"Yes, please," Sherlock told him. The man nodded and exited the room shutting the door behind him.
John released himself from Sherlock's grip and sauntered forward toward the table putting the revolver in his own pocket. Sherlock stayed back pressing himself against the nearest wall. He watched calmly as John pulled the sheet back to expose Mary's face. Her skin was frosted, her mouth was slightly ajar, her eyes were sealed shut, and the soft bruises around her neck shown proud. John could feel himself getting heavy again but caught his weight on the table before he collapsed. Tears welled in his eyes and seeped forth falling onto the table below him. He sniffed as he squeezed his eyes shut pinching his nose. He sighed aloud before he could stare at his wife again. He broke his composure and reached out to stroke her soft face gently with his knuckles. She was so cold it made him shiver. Sherlock rubbed his mouth and scratched his nose from behind him. John ignored him and continued stroking her cold flesh.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you, darling," Watson said softly to her. "I should not have gone that day. I should have stayed home, called in sick. I should have told my patients to fuck off. But I didn't. I didn't and now....you're dead. You're dead and..." He paused and wiped his nose. "What else can I say? I was the one who found you, you know. I came home and found your body on our fence. You adored that fence. You said it would protect us.....but it didn't....it shed your blood....turning the snow red. Snow isn't supposed to be red, darling." He paused again sniffling harshly trying to control his trembling jaw. "But I know how hard you fought. I know you did. I know you tried hard to keep it in till your last breath. I'm proud of you." He brushed her hair back form her cold placid forehead. Sherlock all the while stared at the floor with his arms crossed listening intently. His head perked up when John mentioned his name.
"Sherlock has been doing a really nice job taking care of me. He's kept me warm, helped me dress and bathe And, well, don't tell any one, but.... we even made love, can you believe that? We made love. But... he's also been so secretive it's driving me insane. I mean, the bottle was filled with water, the mysterious stab wound on his shoulder, and the knife I found on his desk...." He turned towards Holmes who was trembling at this point. he stared at him darkly, his brows hovering over his eyes. Sherlock tensed ready to run, but knew that this was what he wanted. Instincts die hard, he supposed. John blinked then turned to look at his wife again. "I now know what happened, Mary. I solved your case. I love you. Rest in peace darling." After sobbing for some time, John leaned down giving her cold lips a final kiss before placing the sheet back over her face.
Sherlock braced himself against the wall as Watson turned to look at him again. He closed his eyes in wait. John pressed their mouths together in a heated kiss bringing a hand up to swipe through his hair. Sherlock moaned and returned his kiss with tears streaming from his eyes. They fell into their open mouths and John sucked them down enjoying their salty flair. Sherlock opened his eyes during the kiss and stared at Mary's body.
Suddenly, John flung his body to the floor and he didn't protest. Rather, he just hit the floor on his back watching John staring down at him. Before he could say anything, John reached in his pocket and pulled out the letter opener and jammed it in Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock tried to scream out, but John was on top of him holding him still and shoved his forearm into the detective's open mouth to muffle his scream of agony. Sherlock struggled against him trying to push him off, but John wasn't moving. He pressed the blade further into his torn flesh twisting it slowly, radiating more muffle cries form the man below him. Sherlock gave up and breathed through his nose harshly his blood dripping onto the floor beneath him. John gritted his teeth as he managed to keep Sherlock from attacking him. The detective's free arm lazily tried hitting him and pulling him off, but to no avail. Slowly, his strength faded leaving him more helpless than a newborn. Shock started setting in, but Sherlock forced himself to stay conscious. Once, he stopped moving, John released his hold on the opener and let his mouth free. He sat and straddled Sherlock's hips pinning his arms with his knees.
"You are a selfish bastard, Holmes. Almost had me fooled. But, once I saw this -" he pointed at the opener "- it all made sense then." Sherlock's eyes were half lidded, his lips were wet from his spit and all he could do was mumble. John smiled at him proud of his victory over the man. "You know what happened before I found Mary? You remember don't you?" Sherlock nodded as best he could taking steady breaths. " You left your blood on my scarf, old boy." John leaned down hovering his lips over Sherlock's. Sherlock swallowed and shivered underneath him keeping silent. "That was only the first clue, however. The second was the bottle. You know me too well, old friend, and you couldn't stand the thought of me drinking myself to death, so you replaced the whiskey with water knowing I wouldn't have noticed. You knew I would take to the drink as soon as I found Mary. The third clue was letting me find the scar on your shoulder. I know you tried to hide it to keep me from guessing right away. You wanted me to slowly put the pieces together. Giving me time to figure out what to do about it. Not before you had a chance to love me, however. Now, that, that was a surprise for both of us. You weren't expecting me to bring it up, were you. You weren't expecting my madness to take over. Oh, but it was wonderful, Sherlock whether or not I'm mad. When we made love, there was no Mary, there was no world. There was just you and me. And everything was right again. And I loved it." John bent low and kissed Sherlock's neck.
"John..." Sherlock managed while he closed his eyes.
"But here's the orgasm, my dear Holmes," John mumbled against his throat. He gave it a swift lick. "My opener was on your desk....for me to find..." John bit down hard causing a stifled scream to come from Holmes. Sherlock curled his fingers and tensed his body causing more pain. He couldn't help but start whimpering aloud, hoping that the pain would pass. John released him and licked the bruised flesh. "I can't believe I trusted you, Holmes. I loved you, and once again, I was played a fool. I was left in dark and had to find my way out." He looked at his wife then back at Holmes. "But thanks to your bread crumbs, I was able to. I don't know whether to kill you, or thank you."
"You should...thank me..."
"Give me one good reason why."
"She....betrayed you...."
**********
TBC
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Red Snow