by Jared Walls
He lays his piping accoutrement
on the bedside table, removes his cap,
brocaded jacket, boots and slacks.
Holmes brushes gently, the back
of his hand across the confused face of Watson—
their eyes fixed into one another's gaze.
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I fucking hate Sherlock Holmes. Okay, not really...
Nice. Real nice.
oh that is beautiful and funny. and i can imagine what an introspective kiss they must share