A Wet Sherlock Holmes

Firstly Sherlock Holmes was a lonely man, a man as he thought was asexual and therefore domed to be alone forever. He'd always been different then the other people, with them often referring to him as a freak. When he realized his lack of sexual desire he, as always, researched it and came to the conclusion that he was in fact asexual.

Secondly Sherlock Holmes was a man that despised his physical needs. He hated the fact that he needed to eat, to sleep and that he needed to use the bathroom. He'd often put off eating and drinking until he was close to passing out. Sherlock knew the boundaries of his body well and he didn't do anything that would put him in serious danger, or so he always said.

Sherlock had just taken over another difficult case and he was sure he'd be researching and deciphering clues all day. Mrs Hudson, while proclaiming she wasn't his housekeeper, was still worried about the man living alone.

It was 11am and Mrs Hudson quickly came into the room Sherlock was sitting in and brought him a large cup of tea. She wanted to make sure he wouldn't become dehydrated again, as he had many times before. She made sure he was alright and left him on his own again. Sherlock briefly thought "why wouldn't he be alright?", but said thoughts were quickly washed away by the importance of Sherlock's new case.

Mrs Hudson came back at 1pm to bring Sherlock another cup of tea, a smaller one this time but it wasn't too small. A medium sized cup of tea was placed onto a table near Sherlock. Mrs Hudson then told him that she'd be back in about half an hour with lunch.

At almost exactly 1:30pm Mrs Hudson came and brought lunch and some more tea for Holmes. She made sure he was ok and then rushed off to do some other things.

Once again Mrs Hudson came to bring Sherlock another cup of tea at 3pm, increasing his liquid intake to 1.4 litres. Sherlock Holmes though was too invested in his case about a brilliant serial killer to be paying attention to the tea he was consuming.

Mrs Hudson returned once again with more tea at 4pm, warning him she'd be out grocery shopping but assuring Sherlock she'd be back early enough for dinner to be done until 6pm. No problem for Sherlock Holmes, he could be left alone for two hours. And anyway his thought about the case and the evidence and all of the clues they were just flowing by so nicely that he didn't even care that he'd been sitting in the same spot for 5 hours now. Yes, his thoughts were just flowing by so perfectly... Ow.
There was it...a sharp pain in his abdomen. A pain reminding him that he'd already drank 1.7 litres of tea. But he just couldn't break the flow of thoughts, hold on! Not flow, nothing is flowing. Everything is perfectly fine. Sherlock looked around just to be sure and firmly pressed up against his crotch, squeezing his cock a little.

Mrs Hudson, as promised, was back by 6pm with dinner and another cup of tea. She saw Sherlock was slightly squirming and shaking his leg but she assumed he was just very concentrated. She didn't want to disturb him so she just gave him his dinner and left. The urge to urinate was becoming slightly unbearable to Sherlock who knew he'd have to get up soon, as he didn't know how much longer he'd be able to hold it.

Mrs Hudson in the meantime cleaned her and a bit of Sherlock's apartment and vacuumed the house. She planned on going to bed at 8 to 8:30 pm, so at 8pm she brought Sherlock another bigger tea cup. Mrs Hudson once again made sure that Sherlock was alright and told him he needed to sleep, as he had been working for quite some time, 9 hours to be exact.

Sherlock had finally finished the last cup of tea at around 9pm, increasing his liquid intake to 2.5 litres. He was beginning to really feel the pressure building up but she just couldn't get up and go, he had to continue. Sherlock knew he was so close to finding out who the murderer was, if he just kept at it a tiny bit longer. Just another minute or many and hour or two. He just needed time.

Around 11pm his squirming, as well as the bouncing of his leg have become more severe and he just couldn't sit still anymore. He cursed at his bodily functions, he hated them as they always disturbed his thoughts.
He was quite happy that Mrs Hudson had gone to bed as a wave of desperation hit Sherlock. He doubled over and squeezed his penis tight. He really needed to piss by now. It had been 12 hours in which he hadn't moved much and in which, as he realized, he'd drank way too much tea. His stupid tea with this stupid caffeine, making him need to pee so bad. But he needed to just suck it up and continue.

At around 1am Sherlock realized just how bad his situation had become. He needed to go very badly, so badly that he absolutely couldn't sit still, couldn't keep his legs from bouncing and had to press on his crotch with both hands while squeezing his penis so tight he wasn't sure he could ever have children (not that he'd want them). He was actually not sure how Mrs Hudson was sleeping with the noise he assumed he must be making. His laptop and his books had long moved to the table next to him. Sherlock just needed this wave to pass and then he'd just visit the loo and everything would be fine.

Now it was 1:30am and Sherlock was becoming more agitated, he just wanted to get up but he was too scared he'd wet himself doing so. He was contemplating just getting up when another strong wave of desperation hit him. He had to double over and a moan escaped him,  as well as a little bit of pee. He was panicking now, he quickly got up just to sink onto the ground, now feeling the impact of gravity on his already sore bladder.
Another leak of warm piss escaped against Sherlock's now damp hand. He was incredibly embarrassed.
He tried to slowly stand up, inspecting the mess he'd already made. There was no pee on the floor but a wet patch had formed on his light brown trousers, not much bigger than a finger print. He tried to steady his breathing and then firmly pressed both of his hands onto his crotch.
He made sure not to make any other sounds as to not wake Mrs Hudson. Sherlock Holmes couldn't be seen like this, weak and almost pissing himself.
He was just a few steps away from the bathroom door when another, even stronger wave of desperation hit. Sending the detective into a pee pee dance. He couldn't hold on anymore...but he had to. Sherlock took one of his hands away from his crotch to open the bathroom door, making his bladder release a strong stream before he could stop himself.
The stream lasted for only 2 seconds but now his hands were wet and you could see liquid running now Holmes' legs.

He just stood there for a short while contemplating whether or not to just piss himself here but his dignity wouldn't allow it. He took a few deep breaths before he stepped into the bathroom, his desperation increasing as he saw the toilet. He began to pant as he realized he didn't have enough time to fumble his belt open, he still tried anyway. He couldn't concentrate on anything but the fact that there was a toilet right before him but he couldn't use it. Tears began to well up in his eyes as the detective's floodgates opened.
He quickly sat himself onto the toilet as to not spill any of his piss onto the floor. As all of the pee finally left his body, Sherlock realized that he had soiled his trousers and underpants.
To Sherlock's horror his cock began to harden at the feeling of it against the wet fabric.

At about 2am Sherlock had calmed down enough to put on pyjamas and wash his pants in the sink, against the piss smell. He felt ashamed that pissing himself turned him on, but it was very rewarding and very pleasurable.