Title: An Intimate Supper
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Pairings: Holmes/Hopkins, Watson/Lestrade
Rating: PG
Length: 1,605
Content notes: Bit of innuendo
Author notes: This is a sequel to my fic Hot Fuzz.
Summary: Holmes and Watson have invited Hopkins and Lestrade to supper. In the words of thesmallhobbit: what can possibly go wrong..?

Watson gazed happily at the cold supper laid out on the table.

“It all looks delicious,” he said. “Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.”

“Well, I hope you gentlemen and your guests enjoy your meal.” And with a smile, Mrs. Hudson exited the room to return downstairs.

Watson beamed at Holmes. “So. Everything’s ready then.” He indicated the spread. “The supper is prepared. The servants have been given the evening off. Mrs. Hudson is resolutely pretending not to understand why we’ve invited Lestrade and Hopkins. And she will be going out herself later—to the theatre with the Turners…” Watson appeared wistful for a moment. “I did ask if it would be all right for Lestrade and Hopkins to stay the night but Mrs. Hudson gave me a very significant look and said she didn’t think they’d both fit on the sofa...”

He sighed. Then he looked over at Holmes and frowned. Holmes was gazing off into space.

“Holmes?” said Watson. “Have you been listening to me at all?”

Holmes seemed to come back to himself. “Yes, I was listening. It’s just… Are you sure Hopkins truly..?” He gestured at himself.

Watson rolled his eyes. “Yes, Holmes. Truly he does.”

Both men abruptly turned their attention to their open sitting room door. From down below came the sound of the front door opening and people being admitted, and then Lestrade and Hopkins’ voices came floating up.

Holmes looked anxiously at Watson and Watson gave him a reassuring smile.

“Now, don’t worry,” he said. “It is going to be a splendid evening!”





After a lovely supper, the four men settled back around the table to smoke cigars.

“You know, Mr. Holmes,” smiled Hopkins. “I was so pleased that you invited me to see your pictures of celebrated criminals. I have been longing to see them for quite a while.”

“Well, when you’ve finished your cigar, I can take you into my bedroom…” Holmes eyes went rather round. “That is… I mean…” He drew on his cigar vigorously, inhaled rather a lot of smoke and went into a coughing fit.

Watson looked at him worriedly. “Talking of the pictures…” He moved back his chair and stood up. “Perhaps I could show them to Lestrade first?”

Lestrade looked at Watson, puzzled. “Us? Go and look at the pictures?”

“Yes,” said Watson, raising his eyebrows in a significant fashion. “We go and look at the pictures, and Holmes and Hopkins can have a little talk…”

“Oh!” Lestrade got up too. “Yes, that does sound like a good idea. I would indeed like to see Mr. Holmes’ pictures.”

“Will that be all right, Holmes?” asked Watson, smiling.

“Yes, indeed,” said Holmes, still trying to catch his breath. “I am sure Hopkins and I can amuse ourselves.”





Once inside Holmes’ bedroom, Watson glanced back to take a last look at Holmes and Hopkins, and then discreetly closed the door.

Lestrade was already looking around at the celebrated criminals. He pulled a face.

“I don’t know how Mr. Holmes puts up with all these villains looking down on him. I certainly wouldn’t want to have them displayed on my bedroom walls. I get enough of criminals in the flesh, thank you very much.”

He turned to look at Watson. “And fancy young Hopkins wanting to come and see them.”

Watson laughed. “I think he and Holmes are quite suited in some ways.”

Lestrade stepped a little closer. “How long do we have wait in here then?”

“Just a few minutes, I think.” Watson smiled roguishly at Lestrade. “And then perhaps I can show you my bedroom. Though it’s not as interesting as Holmes’ unfortunately.”

Lestrade was grinning. “Oh, I think it might be…”

“Well, you’ll have to wait and see.” Watson moved to the door, still smiling. “I’ll just take a look at Holmes and Hopkins. See if they’re moving to any kind of conclusion…”

He turned the doorknob and frowned. He tried again.

“It’s not—”

Lestrade came over and made an attempt as well but to no avail. He looked worriedly up at the Doctor.

“You know, I do believe it’s jammed.”





Out in the sitting room, Holmes and Hopkins were indulging in some awkward conversation.

“As I say,” said Hopkins. “I am greatly looking forward to viewing your pictures. It sounds like a fascinating collection.”

“I am rather proud of it…” Holmes gave Hopkins a weak smile. “But, Hopkins, I have to say…” Holmes cleared his throat. “I must confess I didn’t invite you simply because I thought you might enjoy seeing my pictures. That is…” He cleared his throat again. “First of all, I must say that I greatly respect you.”

Hopkins looked pleased if a little bemused. “Thank you, Mr. Holmes. That means a great deal to me—especially after the Mellinger case. I thought you were a little disappointed in me over that.”

Holmes frowned. “Well, a child could have solved that case! The footprints alone told me—” He collected himself. “I think we may have got off the subject here. What I mean is that I respect you as a gentleman.”

“I… see?” said Hopkins.

“And…” Holmes cleared his throat so thoroughly and noisily that Hopkins leaned forward to attempt to pat him on the back. Holmes waved him away and looked down at the tablecloth. “For some time, I have been having… certain feelings of affection towards you.” He glanced up at Hopkins. “And Dr. Watson assures me that these… feelings… are returned. Possibly.”

A smile slowly spread across Hopkins’ face. “Oh, I see. Yes. Yes, they are, Mr. Holmes!”

“They are..?” said Holmes.

“Yes, Mr. Holmes,” said Hopkins, leaning forward a little. “They most definitely are.”

“Well. That’s just splendid,” said Holmes, leaning in too. His voice deepened a little. “In that case, I think you might call me just Holmes, Hopkins.”

“Oh, Holmes,” whispered Hopkins, his lips coming ever closer.

“Hopkins…” whispered Holmes.

“Holmes…”

“Hopkins…”

“Holmes!” yelled Watson.

“Oh, for—” Holmes reluctantly pulled away and got up to go over to his bedroom door. “What is it, Watson?”

He tried the door.

“What’s going on?” Holmes tried the door again. “Why have you locked yourselves in?”

“It’s jammed, Mr. Holmes!” called Lestrade. “We can’t get it to open.”

Hopkins came over. “Is everything all right..? Can I assist in any way?”

Holmes frowned. “They say they’re locked in but the key should be—”

“Naturally we’ve tried the key!” interrupted Watson. “The mechanism of the lock is jammed. It’s your fault—you’re forever slamming the wretched door. Something must have worked loose!”

“Will you calm yourself!” said Holmes, testily. “My lockpicks are in there with you. You should be able to use those to free yourself!”

“Oh. Of course.” Watson did sound a little calmer.

Holmes rolled his eyes at Hopkins, and Hopkins stifled his laughter.

“They’re under my bed,” called Holmes. “Between the map of Norway and the set of bagpipes. Don’t worry, my boy—you should be out in no time.”





Twenty minutes later, Watson and Lestrade were still locked in Holmes’ bedroom.

“They don’t work! They don’t work!” shouted Watson. “Your bloody lockpicks are useless!”

Inspector Lestrade’s voice could be heard faintly from within, attempting to placate him.

As Hopkins looked anxiously on, Holmes leant lightly on the door and spoke to his friend.

“Watson, they will work. Just let me take you through the instructions one more time…”

“No, I’ve had enough!” There came a thud on the door as Watson threw himself against it.

Holmes moved back slightly. “Watson—listen…”

“No! I’m going to break the damn thing down!” There was another thud. “We can’t stay locked in your bedroom all night! Think of my reputation! Think of Lestrade’s reputation!” There was yet another thud and then another.

“Never mind your reputations!” yelled Holmes. “Think what Mrs. Hudson will do to us if we damage her wretched door!”

The thudding stopped.

“I didn’t think of that…” Watson’s voice sounded somewhat subdued.

“Yes, well,” said Holmes. “Look, I promise you we will get you out. But you must concentrate and follow my instructions exactly.”

“Right. Yes,” said Watson.

Holmes leant forward again. “Listen. You ease it in carefully—nice and slowly. Slide it in. Move it down a little… Now here comes the tricky part. Can Lestrade help and hold it for you..?”

“Mr. Holmes?”

Holmes and Hopkins jumped right away from the door and turned round to find Mrs. Hudson standing before them.

“I just came up to collect the dishes and to tell you I will leaving shortly, sir.”

Mrs. Hudson moved her gaze away from Holmes and glanced nervously towards the bedroom.

“Ah, yes,” said Holmes. He indicated his room. “Er, it’s nothing to worry about. It’s just that Dr. Watson and Inspector Lestrade are locked in my bedroom and I’m giving them some instruction.”

“Are you..?” said Mrs. Hudson.

Holmes smiled weakly. “It’s not truly how it appears. They became trapped and…” He turned back towards his bedroom. “Watson will explain it all to you.” He tapped lightly on the door. “Watson..? Watson..?”

“Hold on, Holmes!” came the Doctor’s voice. “I’m just taking my shirt off. This is all making me rather warm!”

Holmes turned back and looked at Mrs. Hudson.

Mrs. Hudson stared at Holmes.

There was a long pause.

“Well, then,” said Mrs. Hudson brightly. “I’ll be back at midnight.” And she hurried off, leaving the dishes where they lay.

Holmes and Hopkins watched her go and then looked at each other.

“A bunch of flowers perhaps..?” said Hopkins, eventually.

Holmes nodded. “I’ll contact Harrison’s in the morning.” He sighed. “They know our usual order.”