Sherlock Holmes

"The game's afoot, Sherlock."

Great. Another Sherlock joke.

Guess I'll probably never live that name down. Not only had my unimaginative parents named me after the world's greatest detective - supposedly my dad's earliest fictional hero - I also had to turn out to be, at least according to the trusty town sheriff, one of the nosiest brats around.

I prefer to call it inquisitive. Certainly had come in handy last summer when I'd helped him collar the Bayside Strangler. Of course in a wealthy hamlet where snooty upper-crust lips flapped plenty over Sunday brunches, that incident had gained me some little notoriety. The fact that my father was the new crusading district attorney only helped cement my family's do-gooder reputation. So I got the brunt of the Sherlock jokes at school.

Usually I tolerated it well enough. Not always though. The wicked sneer on the handsome face of my enemy told me that he knew he'd gotten my goat. And he loved it, the bastard.

"Aren't you supposed to be out tricking with your latest tween skank? Madison, wasn't it?" So I wasn't always politically correct. But if you'd seen the blond miss cheerleader trying her best to get into his pants - and I have, you'd understand what I meant.

"Aww, that hurt." He clutched his heart in mock agony. "Don't you know why I'm here?"

"Fuck off." I moved to shut the door only to have the buffoon shove his foot to block. "Look, your brains already retarded. You don't need a gimp leg on top of that."

"Clever, Miss Nancy Drew, but I bet you can't guess what I'm doing here." When I just glared at him, he just continued grinning unabashedly at me. "Still don't know? Why, it's simply elementary, my dear Sherlock. I'm here to pick you up on our date. Behold your chariot awaits."

"I'll hold up for the next one." I knew he was up to no good. So much for our little truce. "Get lost, Watson."

Yes, his name is Watson.

And yes, the delicious irony that my worst enemy in high school turned out to be named Watson hadn't been entirely lost on me. Watson St James. Straight-A pupil. Star quarterback. President of the Student Council. Scion of the wealthiest family in town - and possibly the entire state. An all-around jackass who hated my guts for reasons unbeknownst to me. Certainly a mystery I had yet to solve. And most probably didn't care to.

Unless I was paid. Like any good lil Chinese boy, Sherlock Huang liked his wallet well padded with dollar bills, thank you very much.

Couldn't deny that Watson had presented me with a puzzle that had gotten me intrigued. Once Watson had thrown down the gauntlet of finding his mother's killer, I simply couldn't resist. Every curious little amateur detective in the state had been following the lurid details of this case. Of course learning the truth didn't exactly set us free. Couldn't be easy for Watson to find out that his beloved uncle had been busy garrotting pretty co-eds during summer break - after getting his kicks strangling his late sister-in-law - instead of lazing in the Bahamas as everyone thought.

He'd gotten thoroughly pissed at the end. I didn't blame him.

Though the inheritance that had dropped on his lap must have lessened the crushing blow of two deaths in the family. Some boys had all the luck. Watson had billions in the bank, a movie-star smile and several magazine covers. Me, I got the evolutionary throwback to the gorillas grunting at my front porch.

I doubt tossing bananas his way would work. "Very funny, Watson. Joke's over. You already paid my fees. Now get lost."

A mutinous look came into his face. "You wanted a date? You have a date. I don't welsh on my bets."

Oh yeah. I might have forgotten to mention the part where I'd agreed to help with Mystery 101 only if he'd cover all my costs along with a brand new laptop. And the sum of one date. Don't ask me what possessed me to strike such a deal. I'll admit to enjoying the occasional intrepid poke at the dangerous beast.

Easy enough for Richie Rich to swipe his unlimited platinum card after all. The spanking new machine - and an additional cheque - arrived in my mailbox the day after I'd solved the murder.

Didn't expect to find Watson gift-wrapped at my door three weeks later though.

And gift-wrapped he was. Brainless inbred baboon he might be but that certainly didn't dull his appeal to me. Slicked up in a linen jacket, neatly pressed jeans and that killer smile, Watson St James looked good enough to unwrap with my hot tongue. No wonder his notorious uncle - whom he resembled more than a little - had managed to charm the girls right out of their lacy panties.

And into his murderous arms.

But I wasn't some simpering co-ed ready to drop trou at his command. At least I hoped not. That wild thudding in my chest could only be the after-effects of the gallon of caffeine I'd downed earlier for a night of mugging. Turns out tailing wannabe criminals in the dead of night didn't actually count as extracurricular points in the school system.

"Grunting and scowling at me like this. Oh yeah, Watson, this is the date every gay boy has been dreaming of. Thanks so very much. XOXO. I'm so gonna write about it in my frilly pink diary." I moved to shut the door but he slammed a ham-sized palm on the door. I don't think my father could blame me if I accidentally slipped and let the door slam on his fingers, right?

"Wait." Just like that. One simple snap and the dark clouds on his brows cleared away, dazzled by the flash of his million-dollar smile. It was obvious that the acting gene hadn't left the family with his thespian mother's death. "Sherlock, aren't you even in the tiniest bit curious?"

"Not in the least, Watson." Curious about a gorgeous six footer quarterback with a tight rump I could bounce pennies off, sure. Not that crazy to test out my nascent theories on whether he'd jump me in his car only to land his fists in my face. Wouldn't be the first time. We'd tussled before and I barely managed to gain the upper hand. Turns out his pretty shiny gym-toned muscles weren't only for show.

I certainly wouldn't chance another encounter. Of course that hadn't stopped my rowdy hormones from creating wicked night-time fantasies of us having a sweaty throwdown in my bed instead. Ah youthful testosterone.

"I'm hurt. Do I detect a hint of mistrust?" His smile grew wider. "Look, Sherlock, you fulfilled your end of the bargain. Now I'm here to honour mine."

"And then you'll take me on a slow romantic drive down a dark lonely road where your hired goons will set on little me with baseball bats." Wouldn't be the first time I'd been ganged up on after all. Of course at that time I'd been prepared with my fists - and a tazer gun.

He chuckled, a low deep rumble of a sound. "You were always an imaginative sort. I swear no goons involved."

"You're not gay. You paid me already so we're square."

"Wait, weren't you the professor who lectured us on the Kinsey scale a while ago? Who knows? I might be bi-curious."

"Go dial up your own fucking social escort."

"Afraid?" Obviously enjoying himself tremendously, Watson leaned closer with the very devil in his blue eyes. "Our very own Riverdale High bad-ass karate-kicking action figure hero actually scared? Aww, I'm a little disappointed."

He knew that always got my goat. And I let it. Damn him.

What the heck. At least I'd get a free meal. Can't be worse that the Chinese takeout I'd planned. Unwilling to let him have the last word, I couldn't resist getting in one final dig though. "Laugh all you like but I'll expect a goodnight kiss with tongue, asshole."

"Fine. Let's get it over with then."

Actually thought he meant the date so I turned to get my coat from the closet. Wasn't that the obvious conclusion? I certainly never expected slow-moving, doltish Watson to suddenly have moves. Before I could raise a hand to block his sneaky strike, he'd slammed me against the door in a crushing embrace. Damn he was fast. So that was why they called him the Raider of Riverdale?

Wait, were those his lips on mine? Did the Raider just kiss me?

Shit, was that tongue?

Any brief thoughts of protest fled since all I could think of was... what an ass. Sure I'd fantasized about the famed St James booty but never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined how good it would feel in the palm of my hands. Perfect fit. At least I now knew why the blond Fletcher twins raved endlessly about them. I might add in a smitten squeal of my own.

Fine. I'll admit I wasn't immune to his charms. Come on, I'm a teenage gay boy with raging hormones. Hell I'd fuck a rusted letterbox given the opportunity. And now here was Watson St James, all six feet of sexy, well-muscled dreamboat. He'd even been polled sexiest bachelor last year. I certainly couldn't miss the opportunity to cop a feel. Or two.

But that was all I allowed myself before I gave him a reluctant shove. There was no use in prolonging the inevitable after all. "Watson! What the fuck."

"I-I.." There was a shocked look on his handsome face as well. Certainly not acting this time. His clever hands - only a moment ago stealing their way down my back into my pants - reached up to tug his brown curls fetchingly. "Hell, Sherlock."

"Congrats. It was a good prank. I'm punk'd. You obviously know that I have a ... crush of sorts on you."

"You do? Well, well, well."

Those big ingenuous blue eyes widened sufficiently enough that I started to wonder whether Watson had been as innocent as I had thought. Surely he had guessed that I'd been trying to crush this little bud of attraction for him. How could he not notice the number of times I sighed over his handsome face?

"Sherlock, it's far from elementary. I never knew." He shrugged in reply.

I eyed him suspiciously. Certainly was an Oscar-winning performance if he was lying. "If you're still pulling one on me, you know I'm going to take you down. Hard."

"My usual reaction would be to bristle in defence but this time, thinking of having you take me hard does make me a little intrigued."

"Do you have a camera behind the trees? Your goons hidden somewhere?" Rather than shoot off his mouth as he usually would, he only grinned at me. Watson seemed so terribly earnest that I started getting worried.

"That again?" He ran a hand through his dark curls in mock frustration before laughing out loud.

"Fuck. Look. Want to search me for wires?"

"But you're not.."

"What? Not gay?" The amused laughter died down and he looked away as he spoke carefully. "You're talking to a kid brought up by a movie mogul wannabe and a billionaire industrialist. Both of whom weren't in the least bit ashamed of their sexual habits. Every possible sexual permutation possible, they've probably tried it. And sent me the X-rated videos to critique. We don't do sexual prudery in the St James household."

Obviously the tabloids hadn't been lying. Despite the fact that Watson had just revealed what had to be a painful anecdote from his scarred childhood, he seemed particularly serene. Happy even. I stared at him, just long enough for him to look back at me and catch my eye. There was a wicked smile I hadn't seen before - and I'm not a big fan of surprises.

"Always wanted to know what it would take to shut you up. Evidently the thought that I could swing both ways has you speechless. And why is that, Sherlock? Interested?"

Oh, he was smooth, I'd give him that. Though I'd barely noticed it, he'd maneuvered his way to back me against the door. No doubt the swooning cheerleaders in short skirts couldn't resist his manifold charms but I was trying my best not to knee him in the groin.

Between trying very, very hard not to think of other things I wanted to do to his groin area.

Testosterone. Always a dangerous hormone.

Think. Think.

Confident of the irresistible effect he was having - and my ensuing brain shutdown, Watson pressed his advantage by stealing another kiss. Didn't try very hard to complain this time though. A little gentler and more tentative this time, possibly worried that I really might aim one of my killer punches at his pretty face.

I pulled away. Albeit reluctantly. When you've been an almost virgin for as long as I have, it's pretty hard to shove away what the school termed the devirginator.

He smiled. "Better?"

"I don't know."

"Eliminate all other factors, and the one which remains must be the truth." Watson moved away but he kept those piercing blue eyes on me. "I can already see those mechanical gears moving in your sharp lil brain. We don't all have evil ulterior motives."

"One dinner. No hands."

"That's all? When I let you get to second base?"

Probably more than that but I bit my tongue. "It was momentary insanity. This never happened."

"Maybe it's time you stopped thinking."