The Examination
by Pandapony

“Where does it hurt?” Watson asked. He sat beside Holmes on the bed.

Holmes was laying on top of the duvet. His shirt collar and cuffs were beside him on the bedside table, and his shirt was partially open. He had kicked off his shoes and lay there with a flushed pink tint to his cheeks. His eyes mischievously glinted at the doctor.

“It’s hard to say,” Holmes said. “I cannot be precise.”

Watson nodded, and then patted Holmes’ knee reassuringly. “Well then, why don’t you undress and I’ll give you a complete examination?”

Watson got up to retrieve his medical bag. When he returned to Holmes’ bedroom, he locked the door behind him. Holmes now lay under the covers, his clothes neatly folded on the chair beside his bed. Watson sat beside his head once more.

He reached inside his medical bag and pulled out his stethoscope. He warmed the end between his palms, and then pulled back the bed covers just enough to reveal Holmes’ upper chest. Holmes’ ribs were just under the surface, his skin like alabaster, hardly a hair marring the pale expanse.

“You seem out of breath,” Watson commented, noting the way Holmes’ chest deeply rose and fell. He slid the stethoscope to Holmes’ heart, and pulled out his pocket watch. He sat there for a minute, measuring Holmes’ heart rate. He then pocketed the watch and removed the stethoscope from around his neck.

“Your pulse is also extremely rapid.”

“I have no idea why,” Holmes said. He sounded slightly out of breath.

“Do you have a fever?” Watson brushed his hand across Holmes’ forehead. He pushed the hair back, noting that Holmes was beginning to sweat, ever so slightly. “Perhaps you have caught a cold.” He felt Holmes’ face with both hands, gently tracing his fingers along Holmes’ cheeks, lingering over his lips, and dragging his hands to Holmes’ neck. He pushed slightly to check Holmes’ glands. “Your glands are not swollen, thank God.”

“Thank God.” Holmes’ voice croaked.

Watson raised an eyebrow. “Is your throat sore? Why are you so hoarse?”

“I… have no clue,” Holmes said, breathlessly.

“There’s a change.” Watson smiled, ever so slightly. “Open your mouth for me.”

Holmes opened his mouth. Watson leaned over Holmes’ face, and used his fingers to depress Holmes’ tongue. He leaned so close, their lips were only an inch from each other. His fingers gently rubbed along Holmes’ tongue, straying ever so slightly to rub against the outside of Holmes’ lips. Holmes groaned.

“My poor friend,” Watson said, patting Holmes’ bare shoulder. “You sound awful.”

“I am… in some pain,” Holmes gasped.

“I see that.” Watson extracted Holmes’ left arm from under the blankets and began to gently massage his way up it, from fingers to armpit. “Tell me if this hurts.”

Holmes closed his eyes and leaned back against the sheets. “Not yet.”

Watson slowed down, working his fingers in circular motions, gently squeezing the finely-shaped muscles of Holmes’ thin arms. When Holmes did not protest any sensation on his left arm, Watson gently tucked it back under the sheets and removed Holmes’ right arm to repeat the gestures.

Holmes didn’t say a word. His eyes were closed, his mouth parted slightly. An alarming red flush was spreading along his cheeks, tinting even his lips. His eyes opened to stare at Watson as Watson lingered his touches along Holmes’ right arm. Holmes’ gray eyes were wide, liquid, intense.

“No pain in your arms, then?” Watson said gruffly, replacing Holmes’ arm under the sheets.

“It seems as though the origin is lower.”

“Hm.” Watson stood and made his way towards the foot of the bed. With gentle respectfulness, he lifted the bed sheet from the end this time, leaving Holmes’ upper torso covered. He revealed only Holmes’ feet and legs, carefully keeping Holmes’ middle region under the blankets.

Watson sat down, and once again began his slow, gentle massage of Holmes’ extremities. He worked his way up one leg, and then the other, squeezing muscles rhythmically, working out knots, running his fingertips along the sensitive skin of Holmes’ calves and lower thighs.

Holmes began to squirm as Watson reached higher.

“Beginning to hurt?” Watson asked, with a sympathetic smile.

“I’m afraid so,” Holmes replied, panting a little.

“Then you will have to excuse me, but I must do a thorough examination.” Watson took a deep breath, and reached for the edge of the blanket. He looked at Holmes sternly. “Remember, old chap. I’m a doctor. Do not be ashamed.”

“Of course not,” Holmes said quickly. “I trust you.”

Watson patted Holmes’ thigh once more, and then slowly lifted the blanket off of Holmes.

Holmes’ hip bones jutted predominantly from his thin, wiry frame. Between them, his prick stood fiercely at attention, pointing straight up, engorged. His testicles hung loosely between his legs, ruddy in their heat.

“Oh my…” Watson frowned.

Holmes blushed wildly. “I’m…. I’m sorry I’m so…”

Watson shook his head. “No, don’t apologize, Holmes. It’s a natural response.” He gave Holmes a brief, nervous smile, and then began to gently push his fingers along Holmes’ thighs, carefully avoiding the massive member protruding in front of his eyes.

As he probed, Holmes spread his legs a little wider. Watson took advantage of this move to reach between Holmes’ thighs, running his fingers along the sensitive inner skin of Holmes’ legs. As he did so, he could see Holmes’ cock twitch expectantly.

“So this pain…” Watson coughed to clear his throat. “…It doesn’t seem to be originating from your legs. Shall I take a closer examination?”

Holmes looked very feverish now. His pupils were dilated, huge. “Whatever you think is best, Doctor.” His voice was scratchy.

Watson took a deep breath. “Then excuse me…” He reached his hand forward, and stopped a moment. “I must make sure there is no testicular damage.”

Watson used both hands. He gingerly cupped Holmes’ large sac, and gently rubbed his fingers along the testes. Holmes’ skin was soft, buttery, and hot to the touch. Watson gently squeezed Holmes’ scrotum for several minutes. He watched Holmes’ expression carefully.

“No pain?” Watson asked, his voice low.

“No.” Holmes could barely get the word out.

Holmes’ cock now dripped profusely. Watson raised his attentions, brought his nimble fingers up along Holmes’ shaft, rubbing slowly. “It seems that there is no penile dysfunction.” He leaned closer to Holmes’ oozing tip.

“Can you be sure?” Holmes gasped.

“There is…uh…a more experimental method for me to check for infection. Would you permit me?”

Holmes just nodded, closing his eyes and thrusting his swollen prick closer.

Watson blushed slightly. “This will only take a moment…” He leaned even closer, bringing his face to the tip of Holmes’ cock. He sniffed for a moment, and rubbed his thumb along the slit, smearing pre-cum around its surface. “I don’t smell any infection. But to be sure…” Watson leaned forward and gently licked the tip of Holmes’ erection.

Holmes groaned and arched on the bed, pushing his cock deeper into Watson’s mouth. Watson sucked on it for a few moments longer, and then pulled back.

“No, I taste no infection,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his shaking hand.

Holmes’ eyes shot open and glared at him. “Are you sure? Perhaps you should check again—“

“—I’m quite sure,” Watson scolded. “I am a doctor, you remember.”

Holmes just glared at him maliciously.

“But I am afraid I have not entirely completed my examination.” Watson’s lip curled up slightly in the corner of his mouth. He stroked his moustache for a moment. “I really should check your prostate before I can make a sound diagnosis.”

Holmes’ eyes grew very wide. “What shall I do?”

“If you would spread your legs a little wider, please…” Watson assisted him, pushing Holmes’ thighs apart. He shook his head. “I’m afraid I still cannot see well enough. If you would be so good as to grab hold of your knees and hold your legs up for me…”

Holmes did as he was told, spreading his legs wider and tilting his hips forward to present his groin and opening for Watson’s inspection. Watson cleared his throat once more. He reached into his medical bag and pulled out some salve, which he applied generously to his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Holmes asked.

“Just relax. I’m going to palpate your rectum. Tell me if this hurts.” With slow, cautious patience, Watson circled the tight pink ring of Holmes’ opening with his fingers. Holmes began to shiver, his entire body quivering.

“I’m sorry…” Watson said. And then he pushed his index finger deep into Holmes’ opening.

Holmes gasped. Watson slowly slid his finger inside of Holmes and then back out, circling around Holmes’ opening, running his fingertip along the prostate. Holmes began to whimper.

“Just a moment more,” Watson told him. He re-lubricated his fingers and pushed two inside of Holmes, pumping them gently in circles, and then scissoring them to spread Holmes open wider. Watson leaned closer as if he were looking inside. He did this in silence for several minutes longer.

At this point, Holmes was sweating and thrashing on the bed. His arms shook as they continued to hold his legs pried open.

“You seem awfully feverish,” Watson said, clucking his tongue. “I had best check your temperature.” He reached into his medical bag, and pulled out a thermometer.

Holmes moaned.

Watson put the thermometer in his own mouth, and sucked on it for several seconds to warm it up and lubricate it with his saliva. Then he slowly, carefully, inserted into Holmes’ opening.

“Now,” he said, smiling at Holmes. “Just stay like that for another few minutes…”

“For God’s sake, Watson!” Holmes hissed through clenched teeth.

Watson looked up, surprised at the interruption. “What?”

“Watson!” Holmes suddenly reached out and grabbed Watson’s arms with fierce strength. He pulled the doctor on top of him and kissed him deeply.

Within seconds, they both started fumbling with Watson’s clothing. Watson freed his own engorged member and, without pausing, placed a hand on each of Holmes’ knees and pried his legs further apart.

Watson pulled the thermometer out of Holmes and threw it haphazardly across the room. Without waiting a second longer, he pushed his thick cock against Holmes’ entrance. Holmes sucked in breath as Watson slid his length into Holmes’ tight heat. All thought dissolved. He pushed himself all the way in, until he could feel his own testicles against Holmes’ cheeks.

Holmes was cursing and clawing Watson’s back. Watson pumped faster, thrusting his cock as deeply as possible into Holmes, until with a strangled moan, he came, spurting Holmes’ insides with his essence.

Holmes was swearing violently now. Watson slipped from Holmes’ opening as he leaned down to pull Holmes’ prick into his throat. Within seconds, Holmes exploded. Watson pulled back at the end, allowing Holmes’ cum to drip deliciously down this chin, pooling between them on Holmes’ flat belly.

They both said nothing, breathing heavily, catching their breaths.

Finally, Watson chuckled to himself. He used the edge of Holmes’ bed sheet to wipe his face, and gingerly cleaned up Holmes’ stomach.

Holmes had a dreamy smile on his face, but narrowed his eyes at the doctor. “That’s it, Watson. That’s the last time I play doctor with you.”

Watson laughed and climbed up the bed to lie alongside Holmes. Holmes wrapped his arms around Watson, and rested his head on Watson’s shoulder.

“But last time you told me you wanted my examinations to be that thorough,” Watson mused.

“I told you to examine me with your mouth, not just your fingers!” Holmes clucked his tongue. “If we do this again, I get to be doctor.”

“But you aren’t one,” Watson reasoned. “I’m the doctor. You’re just a detective.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow. A sly grin spread across his face. “Just a detective, eh? I’m also an excellent chemist.”

Watson got ideas. He yawned and pulled Holmes close. Yes, chemist could be just as fun as doctor. He was sure he had seen a clean pipette lying around somewhere…



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