H has been away for nearly three months now on a case
  during which he had to go deep under cover.
W did not accompany him due to a busy practice
  and did not know H's exact whereabouts.
he is therefore quite excited, and curious, about welcoming H back.

upon coming home, though, H acts strangely.
he is glad to see W again,
  but is enigmatic in his choice of words.
H shrugs off the successful investigation
  without mentioning any details.
eats his dinner with a ferocious appetite.
rather obsessively needs to wash and groom himself.
at last, H retires to his room uncommunicatively.

W follows him inside and ventures with concern,
"Holmes, you do look worn. Was it an exhausting case?"

"Not unbearable, Watson.
  Nothing that sufficient rest won't cure."
H sat down wearily on his bed and began to undress,
  starting with his shoes.
he moved stiffly, though,
  as if he had somehow strained himself.

"Holmes?" W came near. "Did you injure yourself?"

"No, Watson," H dismisses.
"I have simply been sleeping in an unnatural position."
removes his coat now.

"What do you mean?
  Are beds in your French hotel so uncomfortable?"

half-smiling "I wouldn't know."

"What, you didn't have a bed?"
he arched an eyebrow, certain that H was joking.
then he thought a moment.
"--Wait, do you mean that you sat upon cushions with your pipe,
  and fell asleep that way?"

"No, Watson! If a case were so taxing
  that it required a full night's worth
  of rumination with a pipe and a supply of tobacco,
  I should hardly fall asleep at all."
Next unfastens his cuffs and collar,
  grimacing as though he found them itchy.

"Then what do you mean? I--"
he sees a strange rash along H's neck and collarbone
  while H unbuttons his waistcoat and the top of his shirt.
"What is--?"

H jerks away when W tries to touch it.
he scolds with a frown "Nothing, Watson.
  It is a rash that developed
  due to my prolonged use of makeup in my disguise.
  I never usually have such a reaction,
  but the length of this assignment
  may have brought about the irritation,
  as well as perhaps the unsanitary conditions
  of my environment."

"Unsanitary? In what way?"

"Never mind your medical nosiness, Watson.
  You need not concern yourself
  with a rash that is already lessening."
H continues disrobing and gestures towards the corner of his room.
"My dressing-gown, please, Watson."

W duly retrieves the garment, but still glances back at H.

as he removes and discards his waistcoat,
  H betrays a sign of muscle strain,
  especially around his shoulders,
  but he clears his face of pain when W returns.
H stands and turns with outstretched arms,
  waiting for W to hold up the dressing-gown to him.

while W helps H slide on the sleeves,
  he murmurs to H the suggestion that he could massage H,
  if he so needed. "Just to ease your tension."

H shakes his head and pulls away, tying his dressing-gown.
"I am fine, thank you. Nor do I need to have my rash examined."

"Holmes, really, I only want to help."
W reaches to grasp H by the shoulder.

H reacts instantly, wrenching W off and twisting him round.
he threw W onto the bed and held him there,
  expertly disabling him as if he were an attacker.

W blinked at H with wide eyes,
  thinking that he could have sworn
  that H had also muttered something in French.

H abruptly let go and took a step back,
  realising his overreaction.
"I--I'm sorry. My dear Watson, I--"
H shook his head and sat on the bed with W,
  rubbing W's sleeve regretfully.
"I should control myself better.
  It's just that you caught me off guard, you see.
  It was instinct."

"Instinct?" W questioned with disbelief.
"That's not been a noticeable instinct with you before--
  especially at home, in perfect safety."

H shrugged and wrinkled a wry smile to himself.
"Perhaps I've been affected by my recent home."

W sat up at last and fixed H with a bewildered gaze,
"What are you talking about?"

"I fear that you may not understand, Watson."
H rose from the bed and walked to his dressing-table,
  where he straightened his dressing-gown in the mirror.
He also took a moment to brush his hair
  and gently pass a wash-cloth over his rash.
It seemed as though H required these civilising motions
  to counteract the sudden excitement of the previous moment.

W remained sitting on the bed and watching H's movements.
As H seemed disinclined to reply any further,
  W asked pointedly, "What exactly did your French case entail?
  What danger were you in?"

H smiled at W's suspicion.
"Nothing beyond my capability to handle, Watson.
  I dealt with all dangers as I dealt with you just now,
  quickly and effectively."
With an odd whim, H decided to tie on an ascot,
  pleased by the luxurious fabric against his sensitive skin.

Not for the first time, W inwardly puzzled over
  how H seemed to be a strange mixture of opposites.
Too gracefully effeminate and yet too capably strong at once.
Certainly H would have been tested to use that strength often
  against mocking soldiers, had he enlisted in the army.
W occasionally wondered if he would have been H's ally or foe
  in such circumstances.

H had now affixed a jewelled pin to his ascot,
  as though he wore formal evening dress,
  not an incongruous dressing-gown.
Satisfied by his appearance nevertheless, H turned elegantly.
"If you wouldn't mind departing my bed, Watson,
  I should like some rest."

"Rest?" W protested. "Wearing that?"

H shrugged with a laugh.
"Perhaps I shall play at a concert hall in my dreams.
  No need to be underdressed for the occasion."
He stepped closer and looked more serious
  when W still would not relinquish his place on the bed.
"Please go."

"No," W defied stubbornly.
"Not until you explain your behaviour to me."

"Does my eccentric fashion sense make such a difference to you?"

"Holmes, you know what I mean! Your mysteriousness,
  your strained muscles, your 'instinct'..."

"Watson," H sighed patiently, as if W were a child.
"I shall tell you what I decide is best for you to know.
  --Unless you can finally learn how to deduce for yourself,"
  he scoffed.

W angrily yanked H nearer by his ascot.
H at first reached to tug W's hands away,
  but then he stopped and did nothing, just frowning.
W accused with realisation, "You're really wearing this
  to keep me from staring at and wondering about your rash."
he started to unfasten H's pin.
"And you don't think I'd be indecorous enough
  to examine you by force."

H narrowed his eyes at W and stepped back as much as he could,
  but he did not simply push W away.
"Don't make me hurt you," H quietly threatened.

W unconcernedly tossed aside the pin
  and next began untying the ascot.

H would no longer stand for it,
  and he seized W's hands suddenly,
  forcing them off of the ascot
  and away from his neck altogether.
Yet H seemed unable to leave it just at that;
  his fingernails dug into W's hands and would not let go.

W noticed that H grimaced while clutching his hands.
the palpable tension in those slender limbs
  and in H's strained face suggested that H even now
  had to doggedly suppress an urge for a more extreme reaction.
W frowned and bit back the pain of H's excessive grip.
"What is this about, Holmes?"

"I am," he shook his head, "not quite myself."
Taking a breath, H finally released W and turned away,
  walking back to his dressing-table.

"Evidently."
W peered at H closely and rubbed his sore hands soothingly.

H sat down and straightened his ascot again.
he sighed and spoke into his mirror.
"Watson, it would be best if you were to leave now."

W shook his head and insisted,
"What happened to you on this case?"

"Nothing, Watson," H replied evenly.
"I must apologise for my ... bad habits picked up during my case,
  but I shall discard them soon enough.
  You only need to give me time to adjust and recover--"

"Recover?" W interrupted.
"Were you, or were you not injured, Holmes?"

H laughed with great amusement
  and dismissed the whole idea.
"Don't be melodramatic, Watson.
  I see that my withholding the truth from you
  only makes your overactive imagination
  construct more improbable scenarios."

"Then what is the truth?" W demanded.

"Very well," H sighed. "What happened to me, Watson?
  The streets happened to me."
leaving W only further puzzled by that remark,
  H shrugged and continued, seemingly on a tangent,
"Watson, did you ever visit the poorer districts of London?
  The places where criminals and vagrants crawl through gloomy dens?
  Where the impoverished classes struggle to make their daily living?"

"The point?"

"That's where I've been, you see.
  At least the French equivalent of our London slums."
sarcastic chuckle "That was my disguise, did I not tell you?
  I was living on the streets all this time."

"Holmes!" his eyes went wide, and he half rose from the bed.

H replied matter-of-factly,
"Watson, for the sake of verisimilitude,
  one must be willing to create the part fully.
  An obvious outsider is unwelcome
  and harshly dealt with in such districts.
  This was an important case, Watson,
  and it was essential that I blend in."

W did not take H's calm lecturing well.
"So now you have sunk even lower
  than living in stone huts on Dartmoor?"

"Lower indeed if one considers the lack of clean linens,"
  he pursed his lips. H shrugged, considering quietly,
"Certainly I have been reduced to more ... primal instincts.
  The mindset of pure survival and self-defence
  can be an overwhelming one in such places.
  I have always been wary of danger,
  but the danger in this environment
  was more frequent and pervasive.
  It required my senses to remain keenly and continually alert,
  so much that I could not fully relax even in sleep.
  So you'll forgive me, please, if I have a tendency for now
  to treat any human contact as an unknown hazard."

"Any contact?" W stood up and crossed his arms sceptically.
"Then I am to never touch you?" he raised an eyebrow.
"To be mindful lest I accidentally brush your fingers
  when handing you The Times over breakfast?"

H nodded. "Until sufficient time has passed for me to recover."

W turned and paced the room, deeply unsatisfied.
"And until then, you are simply an uncivilised beast
  to be continually pardoned for any offence?"

"However you wish to describe it," he shrugged.
  H sighed patiently as he read W's eyes in the mirror.
"Don't be tedious enough to disbelieve me, Watson."

W doubted him nonetheless.
"The city slums certainly have a harsh effect upon their residents,
  but are people are truly reduced
  to sub-human creatures without restraint?"

"I did not say I was without restraint or humanity.
  Merely wary and lacking in civility. And you are right.
  You would be surprised at the amount of human dignity
  that one can find in certain stronger characters of that environment."

W puzzled briefly over what that statement revealed
  with respect to H's experience on the streets,
  but decided to focus on a more direct concern.
"You were attacked, weren't you?" he accused.
"Someone injured you."

H made a vexed face. "I assure you, Watson,
  I was perfectly unharmed by anything other than the cold nights,
  the lack of regular sustenance, and the dirt of the streets."

"But how did you live?" W pressed,
  shaking his head with frantic concern and bewilderment.
"Three months homeless, wandering through the territory
  of criminals and vicious persons? You cannot be unscathed."

H smiled softly. "What, I'm too ... delicate for that?"
he laughed quite heartily, shaking his head,
"I assure you, I was no vulnerable amateur there.
  I have lived on the streets before."

W blinked with genuine astonishment.
"What?" he came forward to H anxiously.

"Pray keep your distance," H insisted.
he leisurely reached for a cigarette and lit it
  with his usual artistic, exquisite motions.
watching W's eyes again,
  H blinked and explained softly as he smoked,
"Before I moved into Baker Street with you,
  I had rooms in Montague Street, if you recall.
  I did stay there occasionally, Watson,
  but for days or weeks at a time
  I was often living instead upon the streets, doing research."

"Research?!"
W's voice strained as much as his credulity did.

H nodded and listed his reasons dispassionately.
"To detect criminals, I must know their habits, Watson.
  I needed underground contacts for information.
  I also had to hone my skills at disguise,
  which I had only begun to pick up at the local theatre,
  as a part-time actor."
he gestured carelessly with his cigarette.
"Why should I not make use
  of my endless free time in those days?
  How else do you think
  that I first started the Baker Street Irregulars?
  How did I meet Lestrade
  when he was of much lower rank than Inspector?"
observing reactions of shock and distress cross W's face,
  H tried to reassure him,
"Surely I have told you before that it was rather hard
  to establish myself as an unofficial agent at first,
  in my early years?"

"Holmes!" there was a note of despair in W's tone,
  and he looked upon H now as an overgrown,
  inquisitive child bent on getting himself into danger,
  due to an overconfident belief
  that no harm could come to him.

"Watson," H admitted finally,
"I will confess to you that the first few times,
  when I was new to that world,
  I did in fact suffer injuries
  such as would have concerned you.
  It taught me to be careful,
  and I never repeated any mistake.
  You should realise that the knowledge
  and contacts that I gained
  during those immersive researches
  greatly helped my career afterward."
H smiled with some amusement.
"My years of 'idle luxury' with you have weakened my skills,
  but this stretch of renewed experience
  has honed them fine again."
H looked pleased with himself, rather fiercely so.
"I was rather good this time, even in French.
  I quite enjoyed testing myself there."

"Did you?" W frowned. "Was it all a jolly lark, then?"

H detected W's irritation and his underlying belief
  that H seemed too casually frivolous about the whole experience.
clearing his throat, H shook his head sternly.
"No, of course there was a dark side to it, Watson.
  I am not without feeling for witnessing the plight
  of those countless persons who must live there regularly.
  I did my best, whenever possible during my investigation,
  to ease the pain of some of my unfortunate neighbours
  in a subtly anonymous way that was neither too obvious
  nor too much like shallow charity.
  This was an added challenge, but well worth it,
  considering how often my knowledge
  from such poor, crime-ridden districts
  has proved helpful to my cases."

W gazed at H with a measure of forgiveness in his eyes
  and appreciation for H's display of human compassion,
  but he remained apprehensive
  about the hazards to which H had exposed himself.
"You swear," he asked, biting his lip,
"that you received no assault or injury?"

H sighed tiredly. "The same song again, Watson?
  If you don't believe me, I cannot argue you into it."
he put out his cigarette and rose from the chair.
"I need some sleep now.
  Perhaps we can continue this fascinating conversation tomorrow?"
H turned and headed back to his bed.

W hesitated for a moment, then followed H,
  defiantly reaching for him despite H's warnings.

"Holmes," W grasped his arm,
  feeling H instantly halt and grip W's sleeve in return.
W did not let it deter him.
"Let me examine you. Let me know for sure."

"Watson," H bit his lip and attempted a tight smile
  while he still struggled against his more violent instincts.
H began to pry W's hand away. "Leave me be."

W refused and decided to go all the way as long as he was at it.
He suddenly grabbed H's shoulder as he had previously done.

H's reaction was as swift and sharp as before,
  and the fact that W expected the move did not help him avoid it.
H automatically threw W onto the bed
  and pinned him down deftly and accurately.
Both his hands clutched W's arms, and he leaned far forward,
  distributing nearly all of his weight onto W's torso and legs,
  the lower portions of which hung over the edge of the bed.
H's left leg was bent and pressing on W's right thigh,
  with his knee ending upon W's right hip.
H's other leg bent more slightly at the knee
  and rested against the bed to support his awkward position.
Moreover, the sash of H's dressing gown fell forward
  like the rest of his body,
  and it lightly brushed W's abdomen.

H swallowed and blinked almost apologetically,
  quite breathless as he half sat and half leaned on W.
"You ... you mustn't do that."

W finally caught his breath after being winded
  and merely raised an eyebrow. "Or else?"

H narrowed his eyes sternly at W.
"Don't try me."

determined to be contrary, W grabbed both of H's hands.
H's involuntary response to that
  was to claw into W's flesh with his fingers
  and betray the slightest, slightest growl in his voice.
there was something almost animal about H just now,
  almost as fierce as some desperate criminal from one of their cases,
  almost as exhilarating and mesmerising as any night in W's memory
  when they lay in wait together for such a villain who was their prey.
"Holmes," W exhaled unsteadily,
  not really sure what he intended to say.

"Let--let me go," H warned in a low voice.
"Don't make me hurt you."

"If I," W whispered, feeling as if he were already bruised,
"if I were to fight you into an examination,
  I should find no mark upon you but your rash?"
He peered deeply into H's eyes,
  but did not know if he would trust any answer H might give.

H nodded wearily and bit his lip,
"I fear I might kill you first."

W kept staring into H's nearly feral eyes,
  and something made him remark softly,
"You've never--never minded my touch so much before.
  You've never reacted so."

"My nerves are..."
H shook his head, unable to finish.
"Please Watson," he whispered,
"Tonight of all nights, don't be obstinate."

W swallowed and brushed H's arm faintly.
"You've been out of my sight for three months
  and now I learn that you weren't comfortably living
  upon the sponsorship of your wealthy clients,
  but out on the streets all along.
  You wrack my nerves."
W attempted to sit up and get closer to H,
  to touch his rash or his face,
  but H fought back,
  making W sharply aware again of the iron strength
  that lay behind H's elegantly poised, slender figure.

"Let me go!" he spoke through clenched teeth

W glanced at how tightly he gripped H's wiry arms,
  which in turn kept W forcefully pressed onto the bed.
he muttered in a strange, low tone,
  "You're the one holding me down."

H grimaced, so strained that he could not see straight.
"That I cannot help," he murmured.
"Not if you continue to touch me
  when I am not prepared to have you do so.
  To have anyone..."

W could no longer resist
  the tone of H's voice, the look in his eyes,
  nor the warm odor of his perspiration.
H was too near, too mesmerising,
  too achingly exquisite.
W released H's arms at last,
  only to snatch the dangling ends of H's ascot,
  pull him forward, and kiss his lips.

his left knee slipping out from under him,
  H had fallen down against W's chest.
he choked and gasped for a moment,
  blinking at W while he fought to get up.
W kissed now at H's cheek to let him breathe,
  still clutching the ascot with one hand
  and loosening it somewhat with the other.

"Stop--" H flailed with confusion.

"No!" W kissed his lips again.
his hands both kept H close more forcefully then ever,
  and kept him from choking in his ascot.
W also brushed a few free fingers against H's rash.

H tried both to slip his neck out of the ascot
  and to find a handhold on W or the mattress
  that he might push against for leverage.
he was preoccupied mostly with a visceral need for escape,
  but another part of him wondered why W was doing this.

W was stubborn, allowing H little manoeuvring room.
H bit him fiercely, but W only bit back
  and made it part of his hungry kiss.
H could not defend against W's intruding tongue,
  moaning and clawing against W in protest.

W shifted his kiss again, sighing against H's neck,
"Oh don't you feel this too, Holmes?"
he bit into the delicious skin
  to draw out another inarticulate cry from Holmes.
"I never knew how irresistible you were
  until you threw me down and held me like this.
  Oh God, I never knew how warm you were."
he clutched H nearer to him.

H swallowed and backed up as far as he could.
"I--I had no intention..." he began,
  but moaned as W again took his mouth passionately.
H found that he was not inhuman to such a stimulus,
  and his body unduly craved comfort and pleasure
  after withstanding such extended hardship for his case.
he was actually getting aroused.

W had no more need of the ascot, discarding it
  as his arms reached around H's waist
  and his legs tangled with H's.
"Oh God," he sighed again.
"How on earth can you be so tempting?"

H closed his eyes, biting his lip against his desire
  while W chewed on his ear,
  his hands simultaneously delving inside H's dressing-gown.
swallowing, H shook his head disapprovingly,
  trying to reprimand W.
"You reckless, promiscuous--Ohh!"
  he shivered intensely, fighting to remain rational.
"I am not--I am against--"

W suddenly rolled them across the bed,
  finding a more comfortable position
  after being partly dangled off the bed for so long.
H's dressing-gown had been loosened sufficiently
  so that it fell off rather easily now.
W hurriedly removed his own confining coat
  and plunged onto H with more eager kisses.
"Against what?" he asked,
  enjoying how responsive H's body had already become,
  though his mind continued to object.
"Sexual relations with men? With me?"

"With anyone."
H still tried to focus, his face quite flushed.
he weakly groaned as W dared to freely grope
  his lank, excessively handsome body.
"I'm--I'm against wasting bodily resources,
  mental faculties, on mere..."
H never finished, because he was ardently kissing W
  and returning his heated touches with equal fire.
sliding his hands inside W's waistcoat,
  H rapidly assisted in disrobing W further.
"Oh God," he echoed W's sighs.

W shifted again as he started unfastening his trousers.
he rolled himself underneath H once more
  and gazed up into H's impassioned, hazy eyes.
"You are so... sensuous in this state.
  You've never been so affected by my touch.
  So carried away."
he tore open H's shirt and sighed against him.

eyes closed, H bit into W's shoulder harshly.
he answered in a rough voice,
"We've never touched like this."

moaned "I ought to have thought of doing so before."
W kissed him again, possessively sucking on H's lower lip.
his fingers explored the still sensitive area of H's rash,
  and he was pleased that so far H sported no other injury
  on his warm, quivering flesh.
W thought wickedly that this way of examining H
  would be much more fun
  than the usual fighting with him for the slightest glimpse.

so their lovemaking progressed with relatively few hesitations
  for this, their first time engaged in such prohibited intimacy.
ultimately H took W with a fierce animal passion
  that inflamed and gratified them both.
how utterly without caution or restraint they were tonight.