The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

chaste though they had been, had inspired a very definite reaction in me.
    I coughed. "I may need a moment to ... well, I may need a moment."
    Holmes frowned at me in puzzlement for a few seconds before looking at the line of my body under the blankets and then, to my surprise and glee, flushed slightly. "Of course. I'll ... perhaps you would like me to leave you to–"
    He had made no move to get up, and I sat up close enough to steal a kiss from him. For all that we had been indulging in our attraction for many weeks now, he still had a moment of surprise each and every time I expressed my longing for him, as though he were not used to considering himself as an object of desire. He leaned readily into my kiss and I drew the moment out – loving the familiar, sleep-warm smell of him – until I could feel him twitching with barely contained impatience.
    I knew him well enough to know that he would never pass up the pleasure of an interesting case in favour of more physical delights, and I knew myself well enough to admit that his passion for his work was one of the things I loved about him; I did not force him to articulate his wish to be downstairs but let him go with a last firm press of lips.
    "Come on, let me up." I nudged him, and he obligingly stood up to let me out of bed.
    I took a moment to splash some water on my face, and the chill woke me up further. I removed a shirt and trousers from my wardrobe, and underclothes from my dressing table, but when I reached over my head to grip the back of nightshirt, I paused. Instead of making his way downstairs, Holmes had lain back down on my bed and was watching me attentively, the devil in his eyes.
    "Should you not be assisting your client?" I hinted broadly, and he smiled at me.
    "I'm waiting for you." His tone was as innocent as his look was wicked, and I leaned down to kiss him firmly before saying: "You must be very well aware that knowing you are watching me strip naked is hardly the best way for me to render myself calm and able to concentrate, you devil."
    He huffed a laugh into my mouth, and stood when I tugged pointedly on his dressing-gown.
    "If you insist..."
    He ran a hand down my side, smoothing the linen against my skin, and I drew a deep breath.
    "I do. Now get out, you incorrigible man. Go and ask Mrs. Hudson for some coffee."
    "You seem to be sorely in need of it," he agreed, walking to the door. "What with dazed queries about whether the house is ablaze."
    My wadded-up nightshirt hit the door just as it closed behind him, and I heard his soft chuckle.
    In truth I had made my request for coffee as much for Holmes's sake as my own. A case immediately prior to this one had necessitated his coming and going at all hours; he had been away for most of last night, and I would have had to be blind not to have noticed the dark circles under his eyes. It would have done him more good to rest than to take on a new case, but I knew very well that the chances of him prioritising his health over a fresh mystery were vanishingly small.
    I sighed a little, thinking of other reasons that might induce Holmes to spend a day without the demands of a case, for it had been several nights since I had had the privilege of sharing his bed and that morning I was feeling every one of them. Holmes was a passionate lover once engaged in an interlude, but this morning's episode had demonstrated quite clearly his usual surprised reaction to my gentle flirtation.
    As I pulled on my clothes, I reflected that this was, after all, fairly new to him. Holmes was by no means inexperienced with other men, but I gathered that such encounters that he had engaged in had been hurried, furtive things; it was not only his behaviour that told me so much, but also the few references he had let fall, on one occasion going so far as to tell me briefly about an affair with a young man he had known at university. He did not give me many particulars before his natural reticence made him fall silent, but I heard enough to realise that it had ended rather badly.
    Whether the unnamed young man had been ashamed of their activities or whether there had been other considerations, I did not know, but it seemed to have left Holmes with a tendency not to consider himself as desirable. That he was attracted to me I had no doubt – as evinced by his kisses that morning – and he certainly had no modesty whatsoever about his mental prowess, but he seemed heartbreakingly surprised every time I complimented