((New post, because it is good for the universe. I would like to applaud all of the Cravat's fine members for not making a home/Holmes pun, nor yet a Holmesosexual pun. Not yet.))
Location: The Cravat
Time: Out of time
Sherlock Holmes and John Watson stumbled out of the portal, Watson still a little wide eyed at the prospect of time travel, Holmes retaining his famous composure. They stood in wait of the others, avoiding each other's eyes.
Location: The Cravat
Time: Out of time
Sherlock Holmes and John Watson stumbled out of the portal, Watson still a little wide eyed at the prospect of time travel, Holmes retaining his famous composure. They stood in wait of the others, avoiding each other's eyes.
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Gabe's lips left Jeannot's for a second, only just long enough for a breath, but very quickly returned to him, sucking and nibbling on his neck. Gabe took his arms from around his lover to pull his jacket the rest of the way off, tossing it off into a corner, and then wrapped them very firmly around Jeannot's waist, attempting to bring him even closer, though he was unsure if it was possible.
The door was suddenly thrown open by Holmes, his lips pursed, his expression calm and collected. For a moment he simply looked at the heap of gay on the floor, then turned back to Watson, who had turned red for the twelfth time that day, and said shortly, "I told you. And I rest my case."
Watson sputtered.
Gabe was slightly unsure of what had happened. One moment he had his lover pinned up against a door, and the next both of them were sprawled on the floor. After he heard Holmes's voice, though, he knew exactly what had transpired. "I don't know what makes me angrier," he said, righteously pissed, pushing himself off of Jeannot and sitting upright, brushing himself off. "That you were discussing what we doing or that you actually thought it was appropriate to open that door."
Watson had stared for a moment, but he averted his eyes almost immediately. Now he turned to his friend in consternation. "Holmes, I absolutely cannot concieve - you are truly -" He settled for glaring hotly at him, but staring at Holmes had its own effects on his thought process. "Incorringible," he finished, somewhat lamely. "Now, I believe you owe these gentlemen an apology."
Holmes made a gesture as though it was not important, and then, looking rather distressed, turned away entirely, muttering something unintelligible.
Watson cleared his throat meaningfully. "I beg your pardon, Holmes?"
Holmes turned around, somewhere between exasperated and sad. "It was in the interest of science," he snapped, then turned on his heel to run up the stairs.