Work Text:
John feels like he’s being seduced.
Sherlock Holmes is remarkably alluring; not so much the man as his very life. John came home from the war looking for safety and quiet, but instead he’s running headlong into the darkness and danger that make up Sherlock’s world.
They go out at night, the London fog caressing his skin like a rich, black velvet, seeking the worst horrors of criminal depravity, and John feels as though he would follow Sherlock anywhere, although he’s not sure why.
It’s not sex; can’t be; won’t be, but it hardly matters anymore.
This is even better.