Quick little thing for Penis Friday...
3:00 am. And he’d gotten to bed at 1:00 am. Sherlock was so kind to give him two hours of sleep. It was like a birthday present, really.
“Is the flat on fire again?”
“Then all’s well in the world and I can sleep. ‘Night, Sherlock.”
There had to be some legal prohibition from being dragged out of bed by your foot.
“Sherlock! Christ, you twit… what is wrong with you?”
“A problem. That’s amusingly singular of you.”
“You are not helping. However, since I do require your help, I shall affect a marginally realistic laugh if it bolsters your confidence about your sense of humor. Which is lacking.”
“I’m sitting on my arse, on my floor, in my pants, at 3:00 am and you’re insulting my sense of humor. Yep, typical night at home…”
“And you are not helping to alleviate my distress.”
“Sherlock, can’t this wait…”
“No. I require assistance now. Medical assistance.”
That got John to his feet very quickly. Sherlock Holmes never asked for medical help. Never.
“Ok, I’m sorry. Really, I am. What’s wrong?”
“I actually thought it would be. You often prefer the use of generic pronouns instead of descriptive nouns for certain things. Witness your use of the phrase ‘doing it’ rather than the unambiguous ‘copulation.’ “
“Can you not say copulation?”
“I can, however, if it is the correct term, why would you object?”
“It’s just… wait a minute. It itches. Are you telling me…”
“My penis itches. Actually the entire genital region has been experiencing an itching sensation, including my scrotum, inner thighs, perineal region…
“Hands over ears! See them? It means shut up immediately.”
“Do you affect that pose with all of your patients?”
“You’re not my patient, you’re my flatmate. There is a very big difference.”
“Is it the ridiculous paper gown?”
“No… well, yes. In a way. Look, my friends are my friends and my patients are my patients. There’s a line right down the middle between the two of them that doesn’t get crossed.”
“Explain then all of the times you have provided medical assistance to me, asked for or not, after a case.”
“Affixing plasters to minor cuts does not describe emergency medical care.”
“You just don’t go around examining a flatmate’s privates.”
“You do if you are a doctor. I am quite sure many of your patients are someone’s flatmate.”
“Don’t be twisty with me. You know what I meant.”
But John did have to admit the doctor in him was becoming concerned by the little ‘it’s itchy’ dance Sherlock was beginning to perform.
“We live together, Sherlock. We see each other every day, we work together, it’s just not proper for me to…”
“And you have seen me naked on many an occasion, so there should be no surprises about what lies under my trousers.”
“True, fine… but catching a glimpse of someone coming out of the shower when they forgot a towel is different than…”
Sherlock’s dance routine was becoming more spirited and Doctor Watson was pushing flatmate John out of the way with more and more force.
“It can’t wait until morning?”
“I have already been waiting. No.”
If he refused, Sherlock was going to be very uncomfortable and there was always the possibility that there was something wrong… it’s a penis. And other bits. Seen lots, touched lots. No real surprises. Really, no different that checking his hands or feet. No different at all.”
“Ok, then… let’s take a look.”
The relieved sigh nearly blew back John’s hair and in a moment he was standing in front of a nearly-naked Sherlock and his very naked… it. His very substantial and very naked it. Fortunately, John was most assuredly, in no manner whatsoever, gay.
“If you are going to continue to stand there and stare, would you prefer I strike some pose to enhance your viewing pleasure?”
“Tit. First step in any examination is visual.”
“Getting the whole picture at once before I take in the details.”
“Actually, that makes more than your usual measure of sense. Carry on.”
Now, John had to stand there and stare so that he didn’t look like a complete liar. And toss out a few sage and considered hmmm’s, interestings, and I see’s to maintain his cover.
“Ok, time for a closer look.”
Not that closer was highly necessary. Great Wall of China was visible from space, for instance.
“Unless you desire to wedge your head between my thighs, should I not take a reclining position?”
No. Not necessary in this lifetime.
“I can see things perfectly well as I am, thank you.”
“But not all of it. Here..”
Sherlock hurled himself onto John’s bed and propped his feet flat on the bed and far apart, knees in the air and John wished for a chaperoning nurse far harder than he had ever done in his career. Since they apparently were not genies and came when summoned, he was grossly disappointed.
“Now, you may inspect the affected area in its entirely.”
“Can you just… I really don’t need your legs up that high.”
“You require access for observation. I am providing that. Continue.”
Continue… what John wouldn’t give for a nice cup of tea. Or a tranquilizer. Or a blindfold.
“Yes, you’re right. Well done.”
And… oh, the itchy dance should never be performed by anyone laying nearly-naked, on their back and knees in the air. In his bed. No, that wasn’t something that should ever be allowed to occur ever again. Mental note made and properly filed.
“Are you still conducting your all-encompassing visual inspection or are you having a stroke?”
“Just… thinking. Going through the symptoms.”
“Of which you can see few from where you are standing across the street.”
“This isn’t easy for me, Sherlock.”
“I still do not understand your reticence and I am still distressed. The former I do not care about, but the latter concerns me highly.”
Do no harm. Naked, wriggly flatmate or not… do no harm.
Leaning in more closely did bring things into better focus. Slight reddening, small bumps… definitely some form of rash. And spread fairly extensively. This had to have been very uncomfortable and John felt a rush of guilt that he’d acted like a scared schoolgirl instead of quickly providing the aid his friend needed.
“Ok, you know I have to ask... is there any chance you caught…”
“No. And I would appreciate it if you did not continue to pursue that line of questioning.”
“Sure, fine. Didn’t think so, but I have to consider all possibilities. Well, you’ve definitely got some skin irritation. Have you changed anything lately? New brand of pants or soap?”
“There has been no alteration of my clothing or hygiene products.”
“That eliminates some possibilities, then. Ummmm… not really down the same line of questioning but… sometimes, you can react to… do you use…”
“Yeah, ok… when you, you know, do you use lube or lotion? And have you changed types lately?”
John hoped there wasn’t actually a hole being bored through his head from the laser glare Sherlock was giving him.
“Scratch that off my list then. Look, most likely you got something on your hands and it transferred over. Lots of things may not irritate the tougher skin on the hands, but the more tender skin… elsewhere… doesn’t react as well. I’ve got some antihistamines around here and, one moment…”
John pulled over his medical bag and found a tube of analgesic cream that he tossed next to his still very exposed flatmate.
“Use this to relieve the itch. My guess is you’ll be fine in day or so.”
“What am I supposed to do with that?”
“It’s cream. You… apply it to the affected area.”
“With your hands! It’s not brain surgery, Sherlock!”
“We have decided that my hands have caused this dilemma, therefore suggesting I use them to provide remedy is ridiculous. Even for you.”
“Just go and wash them if you’re worried and…”
“What if it is the water?”
“Pardon? What if what is the water?”
“You’re blaming water from the tap?”
“Tap water is by no means the pinnacle of purity, John. And, have you not read of the parasites that can inhabit water? There are species that preferentially swim up the urethra…”
“No! No… this is London. We don’t have that sort of thing here. Not allowed.”
“If you cannot provide concrete evidence for your position, then I must assume that the possibility exists and that I must forego touching water until such time as I can run a full analysis. No water, therefore, no hands. Begin.”
“Applying your salve of dubious concoction.”
“If I cannot use my hands, then you must provide assistance.”
“That is the… are you out of your mind?”
“Certainly not! If a patient was somehow disabled, you would tend to the matter yourself, just as I am requesting.”
“Do not, for one minute, disrespect people with true disabilities by claiming your phantom parasites make you handsless!”
You are not disabled. You are not incapable. Take the damned cream and… here, I know. Have some gloves.”
“I am allergic to latex.”
“No, you’re not and these are latex-free anyway.”
“They emit an unpleasant odor.”
“Since you won’t be sniffing your own crotch, it won’t be a problem.”
“Then enjoy itching until the pills kick in.”
“That is unacceptable. You took an oath.”
“I took an oath to help people, not be a… masturbatory aid!”
“You have rather a fixation on self-pleasure.”
“I do not! And could you… just put down your legs.”
“Not until you have done your medical duty towards me.”
“Then you’ll be like that a bloody long time!”
“Yes. I will. In your bed. And I might be required to roll over and achieve itch relief using your sheets.”
Rutting against his bedding. Of course. He’d do it too… not one doubt about that… and make all sorts of happy sounds to go with the wiggling…
“FINE! Fine. If it will get you out of here and away from me… but we will never speak of this. And I do mean never in every possible sense the term could be used historically, now or in the future. Do you understand?”
“Your vocabulary does not overreach my abilities.”
“Bastard. Alright, let me get this over with…”
Snap tops should not sound like gunfire when you open them. But then, naked flatmates shouldn’t be in your bed making you rub cream all over their ample… generous, christ that was worse… areas. Or making…
“Shut it with the noises.”
“It is involuntary. I have been suffering for quite a long time.”
Don’t say long, Sherlock. Not with what was growing rapidly beneath all that slippery cream.
“That feels exquisite, John. You have very talented hands.”
“I am going to choke you with them in a second if you do not shut up.”
“Do not neglect any possible area of issue.”
No… you really don’t need to make yourself more… open… oh god…
“W…won’t. Don’t want to have to do this again.”
Stop with the… Sherlock did moan beautifully, didn’t he…
“Ok, there. Everything…. yeah, everything’s, you know been… uh… taken care of.”
“Are you quite positive?”
“Yeah, I’m very positive.”
“I do feel a great deal better…”
“Good. That’s good. So, why don’t you…”
“…but, I have another problem.”
“I believe it is self-evident.”
“It is a natural reaction to your attentions, John. I do not understand why that would make you flush.”
“The issue falls within the same set of circumstances as the application of cream. If you remedied the first, you must, therefore, remedy the second.”
“The itching has subsided to a tremendous degree, however…”
“Picture your brother’s face when he and Greg are having sex.”
“Ah… ugh. Ghastly. And… oh. I see. That may prove quite effective.”
“You’re welcome. Get out.”
“Very well. I shall return if the discomfort again arises.”
“Nope. Here… just a moment… ah. Take one of these every few hours. No return of the itching and, for god’s sake, close your legs and get off my bed!”
“As you wish. I shall give you my thanks for your medical skills, but not for your bedside manner.”
A quick wash removed the cream and the plant extracts Sherlock had painted on himself to simulate an allergic reaction. Items of note from the experiment. John is easily coaxed into sexual behaviors against his stated preferences. John is very unskilled at hiding his reaction to such behaviors. John becomes erect quite quickly for a man of his age. Likelihood of future coital interaction with John Watson currently at 47 % probability. Step 2… research symptoms for prostate conditions…
