Before Holmes Met Watson (FEATURED)

Day Fifteen: Fall

Sherlock's week with Mark passed quickly. Mark had been true to his word and had spoiled Sherlock unconscionably. He always cooked, sometimes a simply seasoned bit of grilled fish or fowl and a salad, other times elaborately sauced French courses. And he baked almost every day. "You're going to have to roll me out of here at the end of the week," Sherlock complained. "I'll have the belly of a Regency era king by the time you get done with me."

"You've got the metabolism of a hummingbird," Mark said a bit jealously. "Besides," he said, lowering his voice, "we've been keeping active, haven't we?"

"Good God," Sherlock said, laughing until he nearly spit up his macaron. "Do you have to turn absolutely everything into sexual innuendo?"

"I think I do," Mark said seductively, beginning to unbutton his shirt.

"You absolute tart!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"You like it," Mark retorted. And they kissed and brought each other off with their hands in the back garden.

They had been keeping active with more than frequent athletic sex. Mark knew the area well and took Sherlock on long rambles to show him the sites of interest and to forage for ingredients for his recipes. Sherlock was a bit unsure of whether to discuss his fighting with Mark, but he'd been practising his forms and keeping up with his calisthenics and didn't want to let them slip. Mark devoured Sherlock with his eyes the first time he watched him, then practically attacked him, licking the sweat from him and declaring it "the sexiest thing I've ever fucking seen". Sherlock knew the sight of Mark writhing wantonly underneath him, sobbing and pleading, "Harder! Don't hold back! Please!" would live forever in some corner of his mind.

Mark also helped Sherlock with his experiments, gamely handling decomposing flesh and helping him source carrion beetles. "I feel like I'm taking biology at a macabre secondary school run by ghouls," Mark commented. But he always listened attentively and would peck Sherlock on the corner of the mouth whenever he learned something he didn't know.

One night as Sherlock was recording his findings, Mark hesitantly said, "You only ever update your File with the results of your experiments. Won't you get into trouble?"

"Why haven't you just read it if you're curious?" Sherlock asked. That's what anyone else would have done. Wasn't that the whole point of Personal Archive Files – so no one had anything to hide anymore? So everyone could be put at ease?

"I don't know," Mark said. "It's like we've been a bit out of time and space here. I've been neglecting my updates. I'm going to start getting stern reminders soon."

Sherlock knew Mark was still waiting for an answer to his original enquiry. "I have a Medical Exemption," Sherlock said, continuing to work on his notes.

"Because of the drugs?" Mark asked cautiously.

"No," Sherlock replied, stiffening a bit. "It's psychiatric. I was diagnosed as a child."

"You didn't play well with the other boys and girls, and no one ever thought to ask if it wasn't the other way around – that they didn't play well with you."

"It was a bit more complicated than that," Sherlock replied.

"Was it?" Mark asked, bitterness creeping into his voice. "They did the same thing to my wife. To so many other people. They want us all to be the same, and they find labels for everyone who isn't, then put them there in people's Files, in children's Files, for everyone to see."

"We live in the age of transparency, Mark," Sherlock said, quoting the oft-repeated slogan. "For better or worse."

"People deserve a bit of privacy," Mark argued. "That space for only yourself is part of the human condition. Them trying to take that away, to force us all to live under floodlights isn't right."