Hello! I'd just like to say how sorry I am, it's been a disgustingly long time since I've updated, however irritating things like friends school, exams, my other half and a social life have been keeping me from holing myself up in my bedroom and writing smut XD

Anyway, this has been long overdue, however, advanced warnings, this isn't as heavily detailed as the last 2 chapters and there isn't much of a lemon. It is more of a silly little update in the lives of everyone's favourite sleuth and his assistant.

Comments and critique is always welcomed!

And please, I'd love to write any ideas you guys have ^_^

Anyways, I digress, enjoy!

**Holmes' perspective***

It was a crisp and blustery day in October, I had just been down to see a few acquaintances at the laboratories in order to obtain some vital chemicals, as my stocks had become quite depleted. Eager to return to my dwelling I strode quickly up to my rooms, but was rather taken aback by the sight of Watson entertaining a young maiden.

Both, it appeared, were also equally surprised by my sudden entrance, as my dear Watson sprang to his feet and extended a hurried hand towards our guest,

"Holmes! This here is Miss Merryweather, she's come to see you about a case". All this was said at quite a speed, and with a faint blush crossing the doctor's features.

I turned to face the lady.

"How do you do ma'am?"

She raised herself from the sofa and greeted me with a neat bow of the head.

"How d'you do sir?" she smiled. Her movement and low cut dress displayed quite evidently the reason for my companion's blushing. Even for someone not so gifted with powers of observation as myself, it was rather, shall I say, somewhat obvious.

Oh my dear, dear Watson…

As she explained to me her problem, it appeared that she had lost an extremely valuable piece of jewellery in most unusual circumstances, I examined her face. She was attractive as females go, even featured with a clean complexion, with those; considerable assets, that she didn't mind placing on show, however out of the corner of my eye I could see that I was not the only one visually appraising her.

Dear, dear, sweet, Watson…

***Narrator's Perspective***

The detective leapt across the room to grab a large map of the streets of London, which after resuming his seat upon the couch next to Dr. Watson, spread out across both their laps.

"Now, Miss Merryweather if you could please indicate exactly where you met this gentleman."

As the young lady sitting on the couch opposite the two men leaned forward and proceeded to do so, Holmes snaked a vicious hand, unseen to any observer, across to Watson's lap.

***Watson's Perspective***

The long cold fingers of fear gripped my heart as my beloved detective entered the room. I'm sure the dear Miss Merryweather couldn't detect any of the warning signals…but I most certainly could. The stiffness of his posture, the cold and calculating look he had scanned me with. Needless to say it was great unease I felt as he placed himself next to me. His very presence emanated some wickedness.

Confound it though! Is a man not allowed to appreciate a pretty thing? Is he saying I am not permitted to cast an approving glance over any great thing of beauty without expecting reprobation?

Good lord, what is he doing, is that his –

***Narrator's perspective***

"Ah!" cried the Doctor, jerking in pain as he felt a rather uncomfortable amount of pressure in his nether regions.

"Are you quite alright?" asked Miss Merryweather with a look of concern.

"Oh hoh, he's quite alright," beamed Holmes, "he just has an old war wound that plays up from time to time. Isn't that right Doctor?"

"Yes…quite." glowered Watson, his dark expression a vivid contrast to Holmes' practically shining smile.

"Now Miss Merryweather, where were we?"

"Yes of course, now I'm quite certain that I was apprehended here, by-"

"Ah!"

"Doctor Watson, are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, he's fine. This happens all the time. Doesn't it old chap?" Holmes turned and grinned once more.

"No it –", the detective cut short this sentence by increasing the strength of his grasp, "I mean, yes, yes it does."

Breathless and looking extremely uncomfortable, the doctor wriggled back in to the sofa cushions.

"Well…if you're sure, now I believe it was by Fullham Street, here that,"

"Ah!"

"That the man"

"AH! Arrgh!"

"Mr. Holmes, are you certain that-"

"Yes, yes, there's no problem with our good doctor, do continue."

"Uh, yes, well, I definitely think this is the place."

The meeting was further punctuated by the doctor's cries of discomfort as Holmes skillfully played his friend's manhood like a badly tuned piano; that is, until the aforementioned map was taken away, which then after Dr. Watson seemed to magically recover.

"Now off you go good lady, I promise this will all be solved in no time at all."

"Thankyou so much Mr. Holmes, shall I call again tomorrow?"

"Yes that will be splendid, I say I should be ready for you by….4 o'clock?"

"4 o'clock it is. Goodbye Dr. Watson, I do hope you feel better soon."

"Hmm, I'm sure I will" replied the Doctor quietly

"Yes, yes I'm quite sure he will too, farewell now!" The door was shut, and a moment of silence was shared. A satisfied grin doing battle with a heavy frown, until at last the smug detective grabbed his coat and rushed out – doubtless in order to solve this latest case.

"Good god, that man!" muttered the doctor darkly at the closed door. Enraged, yet also rather pleased at this opportunity for some equally playful revenge, which lighting up a cigarette he began to plot.

It had not been easy for Watson, but he believed everything would turn out to be worth his efforts. After sharing a wordless evening with Holmes, he had headed out huffily the next morning, claiming he was going to call on an old friend, but instead he stayed at the end of the street, waiting until he could see Holmes leave - which cost the poor doctor two hours of shivering. But at last, his eyes clapped upon a familiar sparse figure, prowling the pavement and headed in the opposite direction. So, rubbing his hands with glee, Watson set about on his mission.

***Holmes' Perspective***

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the bell, no doubt signaling the arrival of my client.

"Ah, Miss Merryweather, thank you Mrs. Hudson. Now come right this way my dear".

"Is the good Doctor in today?"

"No, no he is out at present;" I replied, and a jolly good job too, what with him being such a lecherous grump at present, naturally This part was not said aloud, I instead continued "can I offer you a seat?"

***Narrator's Perspective***

To which he lead the young lady over to his desk, Holmes always preferred to explain a case from his desk, where the brandy cupboard was close at hand if necessary. However, he himself would never stay seated there long as when deep in explanation; he would begin to eagerly pace the room.

***Watson's Perspective***

I'm sure the smile I smiled must have nearly split my face in two, as I saw two pairs of feet walk towards me, and even more so as a pair of long, black trousered legs extended their way towards my location…

***Narrator's Perspective***

"There you are." Said the sleuth, "Now, I have something for you." He walked comfortably over and produced a golden brooch from one of the desk drawers and then sat, steepling his fingers, leaning across calmly as he awaited her reaction.

"Oh, bless you! Bless you Mr. Holmes, thank you so much!" she smiled and took her treasure from him.

***Watson's Perspective***

I knew the perfect time, just when he was about to put on his special, "explanation voice". This would stop him in his tracks, and teach him a lesson, insufferable man…

***Narrator's Perspective***

"It was no problem at all my dear, I – " the detective broke off with a small grunt as he felt a hand clasp itself most firmly about his length. Shock left him motionless for a few moments, until painful yet strangely pleasurable tingles began to consume him. But with an uneasy cough, he remembered his situation and arranged his features in to a more composed, if somewhat pained looking, expression. Warily he continued,

"I merely made a few inquiries and knew exactly where to go."

"But who, who did it Mr. Holmes?"

"A good question indeed it was your –" again, the detective's sentence was cut short by a ruthless plucking in his lower regions.

For the best part of the afternoon Watson had been hidden under that desk, as unluckily for the poor doctor his detective had returned to Baker Street rather earlier than expected. So now, Watson had every intention of inflicting as much discomfort as he had suffered for countless minutes in that cramped, dark space. So with excited hands he began to unbutton the trousered crotch that was now at his mercy…

Wiggling with worry, Holmes could only stutter, "It was your, it was your, it was your butler Miss Merryweather." After finally completing this sentence, Holmes suddenly found himself gasping, barely able to contain himself as he felt a warm mouth envelop him.

"My butler! But lord, how?"

"Yes," said Holmes, gently trying to ease himself away before he felt a commanding nip telling him to remain exactly where he was. Grimacing, with a slightly defeated, and breathy voice he continued, "a sorry story really, it appears he had become wound up in all sorts of gambling debts."

"Oh Mr. Holmes, I never had any idea."

Back arched, voice gravelly, he attempted to reply,

"Yes, well it-it's no surprise really; he covered his tracks, rather, rather…well." Now the detective really was having difficulty forming any coherent words, his eyes lidded, hands clenched in to tight, stubborn fists.

"Miss, Miss Merryweather," he managed from between convulsions "if you don't mind…if I could speak to you at another time…"

"Yes, yes of course, you do appear rather flushed, in all this excitement I hadn't noticed. Are you alright?"

"Hmm…oh…well…ah! Not, not terribly, I'm afraid…I believe I need to, rest, yes. I am so very sorry."

"No no, not at all Mr. Holmes, obviously you have been working yourself too hard." The lady raised herself from her chair.

"Yes…perhaps…here, let me show you out." He moved to stand, and was surprised but glad to see that he had been released. Hastily he grabbed his dressing gown which was conveniently hung near by to cover any…evidence.

"Yes I do apologise."

"No, no, it's quite alright really, you've done yourself in. You make sure you rest up now."

"Yes. Quite. Well, do call around again whenever you are available and I shall explain everything you wish to know in full."

"It is most appreciated Mr. Holmes, I shall stop by again then tomorrow, I hope you will feel more like yourself by then. Goodbye."

"Goodbye!" after shutting the door on the slightly worried young woman Holmes whipped around to see a triumphant doctor emerging from under his desk.

"You, you, sly old dog you!" Holmes couldn't decide whether to be furious or highly amused, or somewhat aroused…

Watson smirked, "I should say the same thing."

The two were at a standoff before simultaneously leaping together to form a tangle upon the floor.

Holmes dived in and wrapped a commanding hand around Watson's hardening manhood, Watson's hands reached for Holmes' trousers, leaning his head in –

"Now where were we?" grinned Holmes.