I was still on my knees in front of him. I smiled up into his face. "I love your cock SO much! God! I've wanted you for so long!" Yeah?" He replied."O...h, of course!" I said, and then I kissed his balls again, one at a time. "And I really, really want your cum, too! I want every drop of it."He gave a faint smile as I said that. "You keep working my cock like you've been doing," he said, "and you'll get that load!" I want it SO BAD!" I replied, and then I redoubled my energetic efforts and, as he. That was it. The church bells had stopped suddenly and woken him. Peace, perfect peace. Sunday morning.Sunday!Eleven o' clock!He was late for Ethel. Already an hour late, and counting. Seventy-something years and an hour late. He blundered out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Even a shower failed to revive him, although it removed most of the sensory reminders of the night before. Out into the bedroom, clothes, jeans, sweater. The bed reeked of Delia - at second hand. His track suit. He closed his eyes, concentrating on regulating his breathing. Beneath him Holmes was panting. And he was shaking. Watson could feel him.When he finally pulled away, Holmes turned to him and slumped backwards against the wall, his legs were quivering slightly and he was damp all over.Without waiting for an invitation to do so, Watson went forward and took Sherlock carefully in his arms. In his post-sex fatigue, Holmes didn't complain, he held onto Watson and laid his head against his shoulder.. ’ ‘Look, Julie, none of us can help the way things happened. They just did. But for God’s sake stop moping around over it. Let it go, or…’ ‘Or what?’ ‘I dunno, direct your feelings, your passion into something. Become an artist. Write a book, adopt orphaned animals, anything to give your life some purpose for Chrissakes!’ I have often thought that those words may have started it all. At any rate, I seldomsaw Julie after that night. She finished her degree in journalism at Emory University, and.