Note - this idea was Indyana's upon watching this adaptation of 'The Hound....'

A DOGGED MEMORY
by elfin

Part Six - The Enemy Unmasked


The party ended just after midnight, and the three of us - Holmes, Henry and myself - watched the carriages leave.  Henry gave the parting speech, although I think with more cheer than he felt.

I knew there was something wrong but my immediate concerns were with Holmes who had suffered a great indecency.

Henry excused himself soon afterwards, and instructed the servants to leaving the cleaning up until the morning.  I caught him at the base of the staircase and at least offered him the use of my bed.

"Will I be sharing it, though?  Or do I sleep alone tonight?"  There was an unmistakable sadness in his eyes as he turned from me, and I had a sick feeling in my heart.

I poured two glasses of brandy and found Holmes in the dining room, gazing upon the faces of the Baskerville family long dead.

He accepted the glass from me without a word - a small sign of our intimate friendship - and asked, "Which one is Sir Hugo?"

Sir Hugo, the man on whose fate the legend of the Hound is based.  I pointed out his portrait, and that of his wife whose hound was said to haunt the family.

Staring hard at the impressive painting of Sir Hugo, Holmes muttered to himself, "yes."  He stepped forward.   "Do you see any resemblance, Watson?"

I frowned, trying to find some hint of Henry in the imposing figure of his great uncle.  "There's something in the chin, I suppose," I told him uncertainly.

He dashed forward, and pulled the nearest table across so that it stood directly under the frame.

"What are you doing?"  But he didn't answer me, instead handed me a candlestick and told me to light the wick.

Then he clambered up onto the table and steadied himself before taking the candle from me and clasping my hand to help me up.

With the light in one hand, he reached up, and covered the base of Sir Hugo's face with his other.

"My God...."

I saw it, as plain as day.  The eyes in the portrait were Stapleton's.

"The man's a Baskerville!" Holmes exclaimed with ferocious delight.  "And the papers I found tonight at Merripit House give us all the evidence we need."

"Ah, so that's where you've been."

But he was still staring in triumph at the clue that had been there all along.  Finally, he turned.  The expression on the face was slightly too bright, his eyes slight too wide.  Within his joy there was something dark, something to do with the obscenity I'd witnessed during the party.

But he reached out and patted me hard on the shoulder as he cried, "We have him Watson!  We have him!"

Jumping down from the table, he held out his hand to me and I took it, following his lead.  My feet on the floor once more, I looked up at him with a smile of thanks.

Without warning he leaned across and kissed me.

I was so surprised that I just stood there, completely unresponsive.  His lips were soft, dampened by the brandy he'd managed only a sip of.  This was all I'd dreamt of, and yet still I remained as a statue. 

It wasn't until he pulled back that I realised what I was doing!

"I am so unwelcome?" he whispered to me, eyes creased with confusion.

"No!  No, Holmes...."  And to stress my point, I wrapped on hand around the back of his long neck and returned the kiss.

This time, his mouth opened under mine and I tasted him for the first time.  The sweet sting of the brandy, the underlying sweetness of the wine, the rich flavour of his cigarettes....  I wondered briefly what I tasted of and I smiled to think that he could probably tell me in great detail.

His tongue swept over mine, his arms holding me at the waist, his long, slim body pressing against me.  He was so different to Henry, so individual in the way he moved and how he felt.

Stepping back, he broke the contact between us and locked his gaze - so dark now it was almost black - with mine.

"What about Sir Henry?" he asked softly.

I couldn't keep the surprise from my face, although why I thought he shouldn't know, I haven't a clue.  "How...?" I asked uselessly.

He smiled generously.  "My dear, there's nothing clever about my deduction.  You are the only one around not to use his formal title of 'Sir'."

I hadn't realised!  It would have been strange to continue to call him 'Sir' after sharing my bed as we had. 

Holmes had glanced away.  "I wasn't brave enough before, Watson, and now it seems I'm too late."

It took me a moment to realise what he was saying.  "Not at all, Holmes.  Henry and I... he understands that he's a substitute for another.  I just don't know if he realises that it's you."

A smile crept over his lips, and I wanted to kiss him again, taste him again.

"I... know this isn't the time nor the place... John.  And I don't know how much I have to offer you.  You know me better than most, you know how I can be.  You know of my habits and my moods.  And you understand the risk we'd be taking....  Not that I don't think you're worth that risk."

What had brought all this on now?

"I know you're worth the risk, although I wouldn't do anything to invite curiosity."

Reaching for me again, he took my hand and rubbed his thumb over the backs of my fingers.  "There is much happening here, Watson," he told me with a murmur, "much that I can't yet tell you about but promise to when it is all over."  He paused.  "I admit to being a little... jealous of Sir Henry, but I would prefer it if you and I were to wait until our return to Baker Street before...."

Turning his hand in mine, reaching for the other, I pulled him to me.  "Baker Street sounds like a perfect idea.  The beds here... they're not the most comfortable or the most accommodating.  As for the strange events going on, I don't have to know every detail to still be here for you when you need me."

He blinked, obviously touched, and leaned in again to kiss me.  I could live for the mere taste of him.  When we parted, he rested his forehead against mine.  I knew he wanted to press the matter of Henry - Sir Henry - but he said only, "Goodnight, my dearest John."

And that was it.  The most monumental turn my life has ever taken.

~~~

fin part six