Author: J. Rosemary Moss Genre: Sherlock Holmes; slash; pre-slash Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Holmes / OMC; Holmes / Watson pre-slash? Disclaimer: Alas, I don’t own Sherlock Holmes Summary: I swiveled in my chair to face him—but stopped cold as I recognized the fellow. Of course I recognized him. How could I forget him? I had given my greatest performance, to date, in his rooms at Baker Street.
Part One: Jonathan Daniels
“Come in,” I called out, answering the knock on the door that led to my cramped dressing room. Not that I was complaining about the tight quarters, mind. The room was a luxury for this little theatre—and at least my portrayal of the ruthless and cunning Prince Hal rated some privacy.
A tall man with a keen pair of grey eyes stepped inside. I stared at him through my mirror as I removed the last of that ghastly rouge I wear on stage. He wasn't a member of our company. Had he sought me out to compliment my performance?
Author: J. Rosemary Moss Genre: Sherlock Holmes; Slash Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Holmes-Watson Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own Sherlock Holmes or the characters Summary: Watson resorts to a drastic declaration to distract Holmes from the needle.
Holmes was resting in his bed. His heartbeat had returned to something approaching normal and his eyes, at a guess, were less bloodshot. It was difficult to tell, as he was keeping them resolutely shut.
“I am quite recovered, Watson,” he murmured, turning his head to the side as he sunk further into the pillows that I had propped up behind him. “Allow me to sleep—there’s a good fellow.”
Author: J. Rosemary Moss Genre: Sherlock Holmes; Slash Rating: PG-13 Pairing: Holmes-Watson Disclaimer: Alas, I don't own Sherlock Holmes or the characters Summary: In the aftermath of The Adventure of the Dying Detective, Watson reflects upon his friend's ruthless nature--and what it has cost both men.
I stared at Holmes, feeling a fool as he wiped the vaseline from his forehead and the rouge from his cheeks. I had wanted to shout for joy when I first realised that he was feigning his illness—when I first realised that I would not, in fact, lose my friend. His ghastly appearance and feverish mutterings about oysters had been a calculated ruse to surprise a confession out of a villain. But however happy I was to know that Holmes was safe, I could not help but feel bitterly hurt.