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The alleyway, if it could be called such, was well known to two groups of criminals in London. It was hardly an alleyway, although that is what people called it, for it was really just a space between two building, about half a block long, with a dead-end at the back where a wall had been erected at some point.
At the entrance, which faced a dirty little side street that resembled many other dirty side streets, a criminal of some regard was known to do his dealings. He would meet with shadowy men to discuss the details of their shadowy crimes, hidden in the shadows cast by the two close-set buildings.
At the back of the alleyway, against the wall which seemed to serve no purpose other than to prevent the alley from fulfilling its true function as a passage, another class of criminals were known to do their dealings. Prostitutes, rent boys, and flesh peddlers of all stripes used the space which was as black as night, even at the height of noon, due to the roof lines of the two buildings meeting overhead.
It was at the entrance of this alleyway, that I found myself with Sherlock Holmes one Thursday afternoon. He had been trailing a suspected society jewel thief for some months and had narrowed down this location as a likely place where the negotiation with the man who served as the fence for the stolen items took place.
The sunlight penetrated no further than a few yards into the alley. We waited, about halfway down the passage, obscured in the gloom, for some minutes before we heard the irregular step of someone along the cobbles. An older woman, swaying with drink, came into the passage.
“’Allo, love? ‘Oos there? Is you lookin’ for som’fin I can gi’ ya?” she sang out in a raucous sing-song voice, swaying her hips intentionally now.
“Alley’s tak’n. Sod off,” Holmes called back in a rough voice which would have fooled me had I not been assured it was really he who stood beside me and not some tough from the docks. The lady, if she can be called that, muttered a mild curse under her breath and tottered off laughing.
“Holmes, really! You can’t say ‘sod off’ to elderly women,” I protested. My eyes had adjusted to the deep shadows enough that I could make out his expression as he rolled his eyes in the gloom. He was about to respond, no doubt with a witty retort about inviting her to tea or some such nonsense, when we again heard footsteps.
He placed a warning hand upon my arm to remain quiet. We watched as a man who was well dressed for this part of London turned into the alleyway. Holmes’ hand remained on my arm and I felt him silently step back further into the shadowy darkness.
I followed his retreat, and silently we moved backwards with each approaching step of the man. The newcomer stopped just shy of where we had stood earlier. His face was lit briefly when a match flared and he lit a cigarette.
Holmes’ fingers tightened on my arm and I knew it was the man he was seeking. I could feel him, rigid with anticipation beside me in the dark, his senses straining. A moment later I heard footsteps which his keener senses must have already noted.
Another man entered the alleyway. He was a large man, broad across the shoulders and a half head taller than the other. He peered around in the gloom as he approached the other.
“Anyone here?” he asked the first man.
“Nah, don’t think so, but didn’t look,” said the first, flicking away his cigarette and glancing around.
The larger man took several steps into the dark towards us. I felt Holmes’ fingers dig into my arm. As the wall was at our back now, there was nowhere to go.
I confess, I did not stop to think just then, I merely acted. I spun Holmes around and pressed him against the wall in one swift movement, his hat brim and hands hitting the grimy wall as I moved behind him.
I took a deep breath and called over my shoulder, “’S taken, sod off!” and I heard the larger man make a noise between a huff and a chuckle. Then I heard his footsteps retreating.
“Come on, thisaway. Some dollymop in the back,” he said to the first man and they walked a few steps closer towards the entrance. Holmes turned away from the wall to face me and I was relieved I could not make out his features and grateful that he could not see the crimson color surely rising to my ears.
“Holmes, I’m sorry, I —,” I began to apologize but his hiss of “Shhhh!!” cut me off. He strained forward towards the men’s conversation. I could only make out a few words and doubted if he could do much better. Presently, the first man left, leaving the larger man leaning against the entryway smoking a cigarette.
“Watson,” Holmes’ voice was very low and very close in the dark. “That was quite — impressive. Excellent thinking. I admit you quite surprised me.” He was practically purring in my ear. I could feel the heat rising to my face again.
“I’m sorry, I know that was rather… crass, I didn’t know what else to do in the moment.” The man in front of us tossed aside his cigarette into the street. He was clearly waiting for someone and remained blocking our only exit. I felt Holmes against my side, his lips brushing my ear as he whispered.
“Oh, it was very quick thinking, Watson. I was about to push you to your knees so that I could retain the gentlemen within my sight, but I wasn’t sure if your leg injury — or your morals — would object. I would not want to… offend you,” he said as I felt his hand rest lightly upon my chest in the dark. “Your solution was quite… appropriate.”
I could not see his face, only his silhouette. Perhaps it was because my vision was reduced that his voice seemed to me like velvet caressing my skin. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck rise and I realized he was close enough that our hat brims pressed against each other. My mouth watered with desire.
I watched the outline of his form as he removed his hat, and then he removed my own. He placed them on top of each other, so that they slid together with one resting fully inside the other, and hung them as one upon something which protruded from the wall. I suppressed a shiver of want.
The man at the entrance turned and took a few steps into the alleyway. I seized Holmes, my arm going around his back to pull him closer. Unencumbered by my hat, I could press my mouth against his ear and I whispered a warning that the man was moving towards us again.
We remained motionless for a moment while the man lit another cigarette and scuffed his foot against the bricks impatiently. Holmes’ breath was warm against my cheek. My arm had settled around his waist and I felt his lips brush against my jaw. My heart hammered against his.
“Keep an eye on him,” Holmes whispered against the shell of my ear and then to my horror and delight, I felt his hands slide down my sides as he dropped to his knees in front of me. I pressed my back against the wall and did not dare to move. Holmes’ hands pressed against my hips.
“See anyone?” he asked quietly, and I could feel his breath hot against the thigh of my trousers. I swallowed, willing my body not to betray me even as I felt the growing heat. As the excitement and danger of the man at the exit mixed with the prospect of being caught and the confusion of my longstanding desire, I could not discern what was real and what was an act any longer.
“N—no,” I managed to get out. Holmes’ right hand ran down my thigh while the left held me firmly against the wall. I had imagined this so many times, but not like this. Never in a filthy alleyway, trapped by some ruffian within earshot. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to settle my racing heart.
“Good,” Holmes breathed against my thigh, continuing to press me against the wall. “Because, Watson… I am afraid I want you rather carnally,” his words registered hot and damp on my skin through the fabric of my clothing.
My mind was as blank as the darkness which surrounded us. “Want me… carnally…” I repeated, stupidly, stunned by the fact that this was finally happening and that Holmes thought that this was an appropriate location.
“Mmm… Rather,” Holmes said, drawing the word out slowly as he dragged his mouth along my hard length through the cloth of my trousers. I was achingly stiff as he rubbed his mouth and nose against me, causing my breath to hitch and my knees to go weak.
I trembled as he touched me, fabric damp from where I was leaking through it and where his lips and tongue traced the outline of my desire. He moaned against me and it was all I could do not to buck my hips up into his face.
A noise at the other end of the alleyway caught my attention and I glanced up to see the man leaving, alone. I grabbed Holmes by the arms and hauled him to his feet, pressing him against the wall.
“He’s gone. Get up here,” I hissed against his lips before capturing them in a lusty kiss. I pressed the length of my body against his, feeling him hard beneath me and I moaned into his open mouth. My hands were in his hair and his were clutching my sitting place.
When we broke apart, Holmes said against the skin of my neck, “I was only getting started you know. Are you going to let me finish? I had a specific outcome in mind, which has been a particular desire for some time now.”
“Save it for when we get home,” I said, grinding my hips into his and eliciting a gasp and whimper from him. He had wrapped one of his legs around mine to pull me closer and his arms clung around my neck. “Because right now we are going to frig each other in this sodding alleyway,” I growled against his throat.
Soon we were both fumbling with fly buttons and drawer laces and shirt tails while trading fevered kisses. At last, my hand closed around him and the momentarily dizzying ecstasy of his hot skin in my hand was intensified when the cool skin of his palm enveloped me in turn. There was frenetic and awkward tugging as we struggled to remain upright and mostly silent in the dark.
Somehow, he had gotten me turned so that I was again against the wall. He pressed himself hard against me so that we met, his mouth hot and wet on mine, and I felt his long delicate fingers close around both of us. I gasped and added my broader hand atop his and together we fell into a rhythm and brought each other to our undoing.
I clung to him; my legs weak. In the dark he raised my hand to his mouth, sucking my first two fingers clean and running his tongue between them in a way that made me convinced my knees would never support my weight again. “Not how I had intended to satisfy that desire, but it will do for now,” he said and ran his tongue along my thumb.
“Good God, Holmes,” I panted, still trying to catch my breath, “We are never going to get out of here at this rate.” I pulled him to me in a fervid kiss to lick the taste from his mouth and we were lost for some minutes before we broke apart gasping for air.
“We must. You promised to let me resume my former activities once we were at home,” he purred, running his hand down my chest. He produced a handkerchief from somewhere and pressed it into my hand. “Do you think we can make it back? Or shall we continue to deprive the good citizens of this area from their livelihood? I believe we have already disappointed a potential customer when you were, ah, otherwise occupied.”
A jolt of icy fear shot through me to think that we had been seen. I hurriedly righted my appearance, drawing up laces and doing up buttons, and could hear Holmes doing the same. “We’re leaving. Now. And we are taking a cab. A fast one. Come on.”
I stopped just inside the line of shadows and heard Holmes stop behind me. I turned to face him, able to see his features for the first time. Even in the shadows his eyes gleamed. He smoothed my jacket lapels before pulling our nested hats apart and handing over mine with a self-satisfied smirk.
“I dare say we look more respectable than most who frequent this alleyway, Watson.” I handed him my handkerchief and wordlessly indicated several spots upon his coat cuff and sleeve which required attention. He made a show of licking the handkerchief before applying it to his coat.
“If you don’t get me home by the fastest means possible, Holmes, I swear I am dragging you right back in there…” I growled. He smirked at me and plucked at my sleeve.
“This way, my dear Watson. I know a shortcut.”