Watson stirred and smiled, coming awake. He had dreamed that Holmes had just kissed him. He started to reach towards Holmes, to pull him closer, then found that he couldn’t move his arms. Startled, he woke up fully, to discover that Holmes had somehow managed to tie his hands behind his back.
“Holmes! What the dev-“Holmes had just placed a hand over his mouth, silencing him.
“Shh! Not so loud, John. The cabby will hear. And I want you to be quiet.”
More quietly now. “But Holmes, what’s the idea of this?”
“It is this, John. You have become too contrary of late. You won’t listen, you won’t obey orders, you are constantly going off in your own direction. Well, tonight, you are going to stay still, allow me to take over, and follow my commands. And my first command is that you call me Sherlock. I won’t have you calling me Holmes any more; everyone calls me that. From now on, you are to call me Sherlock. Do you understand?”
“Why yes, Holm…Sherlock, if that’s what you want.”
“Yes, my dear Watson, that is what I want. And my next command is that, until we reach home, you are to stay silent. Not a word, not a sound, unless I give you permission. If you do not obey, I will silence you myself. Understood?”
Watson stared at Holmes. This was a side of Holmes he had never seen before, and he wasn’t sure what to make of it. In the dim light, his face was both commanding and mischievous. He kissed Watson, and any resistance melted. Watson could only hope that Holmes didn’t mean him any serious harm. “Understood, S-Sherlock.”
“Good.” Watson found his head tipped back as Holmes lavished kisses on his neck, behind his ears, and the soft skin under his jaw. His mouth dropped open as Holmes pulled open his collar and tie to lick the sensitive hollow at the base of his throat. He swallowed to keep from making any noise. Holmes stood up and arranged Watson so that he was lying across the bench, leaning against the side of the cab. Watson stared as Holmes ran his hands across Watson’s shoulders and down his arms.
“I could untie you. Would you like me to do that?” Watson nodded. “But maybe I shouldn’t. No, I don’t think I will. I want you to wait and see what I will do. Now, can you move?” Watson squirmed, and managed to swing one leg off the bench. “Hmm, I will have to do something about that.” Holmes reached down and pulled Watson’s belt off.
“Sherlock, what-?”
“Shh! I told you not to speak. Do you want the cabby to hear? Now I will have to silence you myself.” Holmes pulled Watson’s tie off and gagged him with it. He then used the belt to bind Watson’s legs together at the knees. Watson squirmed and mewled as Holmes pulled Watson’s shirt out from the waist of his pants. He watched helplessly as Holmes slipped his hands under Watson’s shirt without unbuttoning it. His palms were massaging Watson’s chest and stomach, long fingers running through chest hair and playing with sensitive nipples. Watson was panting, his chest heaving, trying to get enough air through his gag. Holmes’s hands were drifting lower, towards his waistband. Watson thrust his hips forward, trying to make contact with Holmes’s hands. Holmes pushed Watson’s hips down, and held him still.
“No, John. You must stay still unless I tell you to move. We still have quite a long ways to go before we reach Baker Street. I think you would like me to touch you. Am I right?” Watson nodded, his eyes wide. Holmes began to stroke Watson through his trousers, running his hands up and down Watson’s length. Watson squirmed in frustration as Holmes reached around to knead at his buttocks and stroke a finger between his cheeks.
“I never said anything about taking your clothes off, now did I? Hold still now.” Holmes returned one hand to Watson’s prick and began to massage it harder, at the same time working his rear entrance with his other hand. Watson grunted and trembled, trying not to move, but a sudden lurch from the cab threw him from the seat. Holmes caught him before he could crack his head, and lowered him to the floor. Watson’s eyes implored Holmes to understand he didn’t mean to fall, to please not punish him further. Holmes smoothed a hand along his jaw and kissed his neck.
“There now, John. I understand. It was an accident, not your fault at all. But I think you must stay down here for now, so you won’t fall again.” Holmes positioned Watson so that he lay facing the back of the cab, away from Holmes. Holmes kneeled alongside Watson and started to undo his trouser buttons. Watson squirmed, but, wedged against the back of the cab and the bench, he could barely move. He watched as Holmes slipped a hand down his trousers and grasped his generous prick. For a minute, he did nothing, simply held his prick in his slender hand. Then he spoke, his voice a tender whisper.
“My dear, darling John, have you any idea how much I love you? How wonderful you make me feel? You are the finest man I know, and I am awed that you have chosen me to love. Your trust in me is incredible, my dearest, darling heart. Trust me now, and let me take you to the heights of ecstasy.” Watson’s vision blurred with tears at his lover’s tender words. He melted as Holmes slowly began to pump his member. He moved with excruciating slowness as his hand traveled back and forth along Watson’s length. His other hand slipped down the back of Watson’s trousers and over the firm curve of his buttocks. He stroked Watson’s rear in time to his strokes on his member, filling his hands with his firm, quivering flesh. One finger slipped between his cheeks and stroked at his rear entrance. Watson gasped as Holmes teased his sensitive entrance, probing and pressing at him. After an eternity of teasing, Holmes worked a single finger past Watson’s tight hole and up his rear. Watson stiffened, then shuddered as Holmes pleasured his sensitive insides, working his finger in circles, farther and farther inside, until he reached Watson’s prostate. Watson moaned as pleasure swept through him, pushing his body against the confines of his bonds and the limits of the cab.
Helpless under his lover’s masterful touch, Watson’s back was arched, pushing his prick into Holmes’s hand. Confined and bound, unable to see clearly and with nothing to hear, his entire existence centered on the sensations he was experiencing as Holmes both pleasured and tortured him. He whimpered as Holmes bent forward and placed his lips over one of his nipples. Holmes teased and sucked him, running his tongue around the peak and then biting it, bringing Watson nearly to the edge. His eyes rolled back in his head, as he was stimulated to the limit of his endurance. He began to feel faint from the lack of air and the intense desire washing through him. Oh God, this can’t go on, he thought. Please, Sherlock, stop it, stop, don’t stop, no don’t, oh Sherlock, oh God, oh please, please please, oh, oh, ohh… SHERLOCK!
Watson’s vision washed to white; he burst and flowed with incredible joy. He bucked and convulsed unde?r Holmes’s hands while his orgasm shook him and wrung him out. His screams were muffled to faint groans? as he shuddered and finally collapsed in Holm?es’s arms. His breat?h came in harsh gasps as he tried to breathe through the gag. Holmes gently removed the tie and massaged Watson’s aching jaw as he gratefully gasped for air.
“Now, see how much better it is when you are obedient?” Holmes’s voice was a breath in Watson’s ear. Watson nodded. “We’re almost home now, you can speak again soon, just relax.” Holmes removed the belt from Watson’s knees and threaded it back through his trouser loops. He retucked Watson’s shirt, straightened his hair, rebuttoned his trousers, and retied his tie. Instead of untying his hands, however, he draped Watson’s overcoat over his shoulders, hiding his bound hands. When the cab reached Baker Street, Holmes helped Watson stumble out. “Come now, Watson, you’re exhausted. Time for you to go to bed.” This was said loudly enough for the cabby to hear and draw his own conclusions from Watson’s disheveled, exhausted appearance. In an undertone, he added, “And you will be in bed, my dear.”
Once inside, Holmes led Watson upstairs to his bedroom. Holmes laid Watson facedown on the bed, still bound and in his street clothes. “Now don’t move, my dear. I’ll be back in a minute.” Holmes left for the bathroom and a bottle of liniment. When he returned, Watson had fallen asleep. Holmes regarded his drained lover with a smile. He had thought to take his own pleasure with Watson, but decided against it. Watson needed rest; Holmes could satisfy himself later. Holmes collected a nightshirt and an extra blanket, then untied Watson’s hands and started undressing him. Partway through, Watson woke up. He regarded Holmes somewhat warily and opened his mouth to speak, but stopped, unsure of himself and the rules of the game.
“It’s all right, dear. You can speak now. I’m just getting you ready for bed. I don’t think you’re up for much more tonight.” Watson swallowed, and sat up.
“S-Sherlock, don’t you want to make love? I mean, you gave me so much pleasure, but you didn’t have any yourself.” Holmes smiled.
“I enjoy giving you pleasure, John. I had fun enough for one night, I can wait until later for the rest.” Holmes picked up the liniment and started massaging Watson’s reddened wrists. “Did I hurt you, my dear? I was rather rough with you tonight, I would hate to have harmed you.”
Watson sighed and flexed his wrists under Holmes’s gentle touch. “No, I’m fine. My wrists and back are a little sore, but nothing to complain about. You were not that rough to me, Holm-I mean, Sh-Sher…” Watson stopped speaking, and swallowed nervously. He really was not comfortable with Holmes’s Christian name, having gotten used to the name Holmes. In fact, until tonight, he had never used it, even in their most intimate moments. He had thought that was what Holmes had wanted. Yet Holmes now wanted Watson to call him Sherlock. Did he truly mean it? He had thought that tonight’s games were over, but one never knew…He retreated slightly from Holmes; what would happen now?
Holmes caught Watson’s frightened look and was instantly contrite. “Oh my dear fellow, please, you must not take me so seriously. You may call me anything you like; you may do anything you wish, anything at all. My darling, please, do not look at me like that, I would never wish to hurt you. Please, lie down, let me rub your back, it must be sore.” Holmes was desperate to reassure Watson, to erase his fear. He couldn’t have harmed his beloved, could he? Could forcing him to obey have hurt his feelings, his spirit?
Watson lay facedown on the bed and allowed Holmes to continue his ministrations, though his quickened breathing showed that he was not entirely convinced. Holmes tucked the blanket around his legs and massaged his shoulders and back with the liniment. “My dearest Watson, you must not take me seriously when I give commands like that. I would never ask you to continue to do anything that would make you uncomfortable, that would harm your wonderful spirit, and I would die rather than see it hurt. I only meant to have a little fun tonight; if you wish, I shall never try anything of that nature again. All right?”
Watson sighed and stretched, relaxing as Holmes’s hands eased his back and his kind words eased his mind. “All right. I should have known you never meant me any kind of real harm. And I did not mind tonight all that much, it was rather fun to be tied up and taken over in that manner. But Holmes…” and Watson turned over and fixed Holmes with a look, “do not think that you can do those things to me without repercussions. I will have my revenge upon you.”
Holmes chuckled, relieved at Watson’s defiant words. Now that was the Watson he knew and loved. “I shall look forward to it, my dear Watson. Indeed, I shall be eagerly awaiting your revenge, my dear.”
“Good.” And Watson turned back over and allowed Holmes to continue rubbing his back, until he lapsed into a profound sleep, with his lover’s hands soothing his dreams.