Christmas With Sherlock: Gay Romance: MM Erotica by Lou Watton & Brad Tanner

Author:Lou Watton & Brad Tanner [Watton, Lou]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-18T00:00:00+00:00

***

‘Dobson, wake up.’

I knew I’d hate to go back to the sodding reality, the stench penetrating every piece of matter in the hospital, including my own skin. I voiced a groan of reluctance. The dream I had was too good to abandon. It was astonishingly romantic. I had met a wonderful man who was totally besotted with me. He was intelligent, quirky, virile, naughty, and damn sexy.

‘John, open your eyes,’ whispered the familiar voice.

I rolled away from the noise, on my other side, and concentrated on our walk along the nocturnal serenity of Regent Street… On his hand holding mine. On the snowflakes falling so densely, I couldn’t see what was ahead of us.

‘All right, I’ll have to resort to the very last measure,’ the voice threatened with a sadistic chuckle.

Then a beautiful melody stole my sleep in an instant. No, I was not in Kabul anymore. I sat up straight and saw Peter standing by the window, nude, embracing his violin. He turned to me, and my chest tightened when I saw a tender, affectionate look in his eyes.

He kept playing and I recognised Oh holy night.

He repeated the tune several times, so I could delight myself by beholding his elegant features. What have I done to deserve such a perfect man? Was I still in my dream?

When the music stopped, I could no longer ask myself questions that couldn’t be answered… For Peter kissed me, gently at first, then with ever growing fervent vigour. His limbs claimed my body and I surrendered with no questions asked. Things he did to me were beyond any description. How could I explain the intensity of my love for this man when love and reason belonged to different realms? All I knew is that my love erased the border between my dreams and the reality I lived in, between the past, the present, and the future. It was a fairytale, a work of fiction, and yet it was the truth more real than anything else. We were together and that was all that mattered.

I shared my thoughts with Peter, and he told me I was a poet. There could be no end to our bliss until there was one — a knock on the door.

‘It’s Miss Hatsom,’ Peter whispered. I hastily drew the sheets over my head. It was a reflex and I felt silly at once.

The door opened with a creak.

‘Good morning, Mr. Sherlock. I’m terribly sorry to disturb you, but you’ve got a client waiting in the vestibule. I did tell them you were available by appointment only, but he said it was a very urgent matter.’

‘Thank you, Miss Hatsom. Would you notify the guest that I’ll receive them shortly in the dining room?’

‘Of course. What would you like for breakfast?’

‘A toast and coffee,’ Peter replied.

‘And it’s white tea and a spinach omelette for Mr. Dobson, if I remember correctly?’

I lowered the blanket edge to face the intruder. The funny tingling all over my skin betrayed the worst scenario – I was rapidly becoming as red as a boiled lobster.

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