It Could be You

Chapter 8

   "Finally, I've got you to myself," Carter said shutting the door. He had a large attic space complete with sloping gables and an open space in the center. It was a very nice room. A comfortable looking double bed took up one corner. Carter wasn't much for decorating, but Sherlock noticed a stack of textbooks and manuals littering a small desk and the floor next to it.

"How goes the studying?" Sherlock asked not knowing what else to say.

"I'm taking a break tonight," he said and stepped closer to Sherlock. He put one hand of each of Sherlock's hips and pulled him close. "I've just been reviewing CPR techniques, so if your heart stops, I can get it started again."

Carter kissed him softly along his jaw and worked his way to Sherlock's mouth.

"It may just if you keep doing that," Sherlock said beginning to breathe faster.

Carter reached under Sherlock's jacket and deftly pulled it off his shoulders and down his back. "I'll take this and hang it here," he said carefully draping it over the back of the chair next to the desk. "Wouldn't want that perfect shirt to get wrinkled," he said and began pushing the buttons through the button holes until he'd had almost all of them undone.

Sherlock arrested his hands and kissed him again. This was moving much faster than the park, and he wished they could slow down a bit. But, Carter was young, fit and probably used to seducing or being seduced. So Sherlock let his hands go where they wanted. Carter pulled his tucked in shirt from his trousers then ran his hands over the front of Sherlock's chest.

He felt his nipples stiffen as soft fingertips brushed over them. Little pings shot through his stomach, and the kiss heated up. Sherlock placed his hands on Carter's lithe back and pressed him to his chest. Carter let out a soft moan and continued kissing Sherlock's neck, jaw, and earlobe. He smelled wonderful, a pleasant mix of subtle cologne and something chemical underneath?

"I can't believe you're here with me," Carter whispered pushing him back against his closed door. I've been dreaming of having you ever since..." he stopped himself and kissed him hard sending stronger shivers through him.

Sherlock felt a hand come up into the curls at the back of his neck and pull slightly. The slight pain combined with the kissing felt delicious, and his head spun with desire. He opened his mouth and let Carter's tongue claim his. It had been so long since he'd been touched it overwhelmed him for a moment and he broke the kiss. "Wait a moment," he breathed heavily. His heart skittered unpleasantly, and he felt it hard to draw breath.

Carter pulled back, concern on his face. "Sorry if I'm going too fast, love," he said.

Sherlock's brain registered the endearment and found it sat oddly in his mind. He wasn't anyone's love. No one loved him, no one except...

"I need to use the loo," he said wanting to step back for a moment. "I'll be back in a tick," he said breaking Carter's embrace.

"Sherlock," Carter said laying a hand on his shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Be right back," he said and found the door knob just behind his back and turned it. The door opened into the hallway. He'd noted a lavatory on this floor and was grateful he wouldn't have to go back downstairs. He ducked into the small room. Its modern design had a small toilet, sink and shower all in one. He turned the tap and splashed cold water on his face. His lips felt swollen now, and he touched his fingertips over his bottom lip It still tingled from Carter's kiss.

He'd come here to be with Carter, touch him. Why was he running away now? He wanted this. He decided to use the facilities and then wash his hands. As he finished up, he noticed an unusual odor, chemical.

A small wastebasket sat in a corner but was empty. Sherlock felt odd looking through Carter's things, but something still nagged at him. The room had been recently scoured, and he could smell cleaning supplies. Perhaps Carter had been trying to impress him. There were no towels hanging up, so Sherlock opened a drawer looking for something to dry his hands, a few hand towels rested there, and he picked one up. But, underneath, Sherlock discovered a box with a woman's face looking back at him. Hair dye. Ah, he thought. Carter wasn't a natural blonde. Vanity comes in many forms. Sherlock rearranged everything back the way it was and headed back to Carter's room.

He hesitated a moment outside the bedroom. Going back downstairs felt like defeat, so he opened the door and went inside. Carter lay on the bed on his side. He'd removed his shirt and had his head propped up on one hand.

"Hi," he said. "You know we can take it slower if you'd like."

Sherlock finished removing his half-buttoned shirt and lie down next to him. "I'm okay," he said and put one hand on Carter's cheek. Just as he leaned down to try kissing again, he heard a sharp piercing alarm go off. The sound issued from Carter's phone on his desk and it caused the young man to start up suddenly.

"Damn!" he said scrambling off the bed and grabbing his phone. "Oh, ho!" he said reading a text message, eyes alight. "Four-alarm fire on West Portland Street. Sherlock, gotta go." He said pulling on socks and shoes.

Sherlock watched in bemusement. This must be what it was like for others to watch him when he caught wind of a good murder.

"Sherlock! Haven't had one this good in weeks," he said eyes gleaming. "I'm so sorry, love. We'll have to pick this up again later." He paused a moment in his dressing to kiss the top of Sherlock's head.

"I'll call you when I'm done. But right now, I've got to go to the station. "

"Cart! Let's go! " David yelled from the bottom of the steps. "Get the lead out!"

"Duty calls," he said as he opened the door to leave. "Take your time, hang out here as long as you want, but I'll be out all night. Good thing I've got tomorrow off," he said as he rushed out the door. "I'll call you..."

It was a novel thing for Sherlock to be the one left behind. If left him feeling odd and out of sorts. Of course, Carter must leave, and he must help take care of the fire. If the city didn't have men like he and David, where would society be? Sherlock sighed, found his shirt and buttoned up. He put his jacket back on and followed Carter back downstairs.

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