The Case Of The Pharmasist's Price

"A good idea, Sherlock," John nodded. "It will give Price something to focus on and he clearly feels comfortable with Grayson."

"I agree," Sherlock nodded. "I want him to be comfortable where he goes as I do not want him too timid to venture outside, but he also has to be wary until we know the Count is no longer a threat. The pharmacy sounds ideal. A job will help build his confidence, away from prying eyes, good reason for John or me to be there. A perfect arrangement if Price agrees."

A soft sound of distress had Grayson at Price's side instantly, tenderly soothing the younger man until dazed green eyes opened. He felt pride and pleasure suffuse him as the eyes warmed and tenseness evaporated from the lithe frame.

"I had a bad dream," Price whispered.

"Don't worry," Grayson smiled. "It will take some time to remember you are free. Would you care to join us now?" he asked.

"Yes," Price agreed. Grayson seemed to make everything so easy. It was even better to find that he was able to sit next to the older man.

"We have some things to discuss with you, Price," Sherlock said, smiling as the younger man became instantly alert. "Now, let's start with Grayson's excellent suggestion."

****

Looking around the pharmacy's store room, Price gave a smile of triumph. He had been elated to find he could live and work with Grayson, nervous about the lingering attention from the Count and anxious to make a good impression in front of people that Grayson considered his friends as well as employees.

As a consequence, he had listened carefully to all the instructions given him by both Grayson and Robert and had applied himself diligently. Therefore all the unopened boxes that had needed checking and bottling or storing had been cleared. He had re-stocked the main pharmacy after hours and ensured that the pharmacy back room had also been adequately stocked. He had positively glowed under Robert's praise and had now completed his first order to have Grayson's signature to authorise.

"Is everything ready?" Grayson's voice, warm and soft, seemed to almost caress Price's ears. He turned and smiled at the older man.

"Yes. I have it here. I think I have it the way you like," Price said, passing the order to Grayson. Their fingertips touched fleetingly and they smiled. There were many such small touches and Price adored them all. He was certain the older man cared for him and was taking things slowly and it made Price love him all the more. He was not ready for anything more than they currently shared, but he relished each light touch, each warm smile and word of praise that Grayson uttered.

Returning the smile, Grayson studied the order form. His smile widened as he found no errors in the younger man's work.

"Excellent, Price," he praised. "You've done so well, you deserve a treat."

"Treat?" Price asked, his eyes wide.

"It has been a habit of mine to dine once a month at a restaurant. I'd like you to come with me." Grayson took hold of Price's hand tenderly. "I would be very pleased if you would do me the honour of dining with me, Price," he said softly.

"I would love to," Price breathed, his voice full of joy and wonder. He gave an incandescent smile as Grayson lifted the hand he held to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to it.

"You go and fill the bath and bathe first. I can follow you in and you can dress in my bedroom," Grayson offered.

"Thank you," Price said, his voice betraying his pent-up emotion. He daringly drew the older man's bigger hand to his lips for a swift kiss of his own before scurrying to the stairs beyond the storeroom. He did not look back and so did not see the look of delight on Grayson's face.

****

The restaurant was large and well-patroned. Price had never been to a restaurant before and cast anxious eyes at Grayson when he saw the menu had been composed in French. He felt a warm flush throughout his lithe frame as Grayson murmured the words in French and then translated them into English. The older man's voice had dropped to a low, sensual purr as he expertly spoke the foreign tongue and Price struggled not to writhe in his seat.

In the end, Grayson decided for them both. To start they would have beef consommé, their main course would be chicken a la crème and for dessert a tarte tatin. It would cost him little enough to pay for Price, but the look of joy on the younger man's face was worth a King's ransom.

The food was as excellent as always and Grayson even indulged them in a bottle of good burgundy. He was careful how much was poured for Price, aware the younger man was unused to alcohol. However, it did serve to make Price more talkative. Grayson very quickly learnt of Price's life. His heart skipped a beat as Price inadvertently revealed that he had never really been drawn to ladies.

"Do you think, in time, you might perhaps be drawn towards me?" he asked softly. If the answer was no, he would have to keep his burgeoning affection under strict control.

"I think I might love you," Price whispered dreamily, then looked aghast at what he had just revealed. However, before he could shrink away from the ingenuous reply, his hand was caught fast by Grayson.

"I'm very pleased to hear it. Because you are so easy for me to love, too," Grayson said, hoping his eyes conveyed the sincerity and love he felt for the younger man.

For a few seconds, Grayson was afraid that his had seriously miscalculated his words and then Price's face seemed to take on a beatific glow.

"You love me?" the younger man whispered.

"I love you," Grayson affirmed.

For long minutes the two men sat quietly, sipping the last of their drinks and savouring the intimacy they sheared despite the many patrons of the restaurant. Then Grayson sat up sharply as Price's face went deathly-pale.

"Grayson, over there. It's him, it's him."

Twisting slightly, Grayson saw the man who had instilled such fear in his young love. Dimly he heard himself growl like a wild beast protecting its mate. The Count was never touching Price again. Not while there was breath in Grayson's body.

"He can't see you," he assured. "Keep still and your head down." Grayson glanced around and spied the waiter that so regularly served him. Catching the younger man's eyes he was relieved that he need not draw attention to himself as the waiter hurried to attend to him.

"Yes, Sir?" the waiter asked.

"I'm sorry, Pierre, but my friend is starting with a migraine. I would prefer not to have to leave through the main restaurant as he is feeling light-headed and will need assistance to walk. Could you call us a cab and let us leave through the back way? I will return tomorrow to settle my bill."

"Of course, Monsieur Black," Pierre instantly acquiesced. The restaurant did not want a sick man escorted from the premises in front of its other patrons. "Give me one moment." He quickly found the Maitre'D and explained the situation. He then hurried outside to arrange a cab as requested. He indicated where the vehicle was to wait and then walked with practiced ease back to the table. "Your cab is outside. If you would care to follow me, Sir?"

Standing to keep Price blocked from view, Grayson urged the younger man to lean against him, turning the beautiful face into his chest to keep Price hidden. He hurried down the passage towards a side exit and ushered the slight form into the cab, almost sagging with relief.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Pierre," he promised.

The ride home was silent as Grayson simply clung tightly to Price's slender body as the younger man buried himself into the bigger man as if seeking sanctuary. Once home he locked the door securely and led Price into his own bedroom, detouring briefly to pick up Price's nightshirt. The younger man had been sleeping in what was little more than a cupboard that was barely big enough for the small cot on which Price slept and a tiny chest of drawers. Tonight Grayson wanted that to change.

"Undress and get into my bed, Price" Grayson said. "I can either join you or sleep in your room."

"With me, please," Price said. "Please don't leave me."

"Never," Grayson vowed. "I will never leave you. I will just be in the bathroom getting ready," he added as he picked up his own nightshirt. He disrobed slowly, wanting Price to already be in bed when he returned. He thought it would make the younger man less nervous. Taking a deep breath to steady his own nerves, Grayson returned to his bedroom.

He stood at his doorway and gazed at the beauty in his bed. The lamps on drawers either side of the bed caught Price's blond hair, giving it a warm, golden hue. He looked like a Botticelli angel or Michelangelo's David; utter perfection.

"You're beautiful," he whispered as his eyes drank in the sight.

Almost sagging with relief that Grayson had not changed his mind, Price held out a tremulous hand.

"Come to me?" he asked hesitantly.

As if the words had broken a spell that had locked him in place, Grayson moved swiftly to the bed and slid in beside the younger man.

"I love you, Price," Grayson said as he hooked a finger under the younger man's chin to ensure Price looked at him as he spoke.

"I love you," Price affirmed. "And...I'm yours...if you want me," he added, his voice a scant whisper of sound and his hands clenching at the bedspread so tightly his knuckles were white.

"I do want you," Grayson said, his voice soft and soothing. "But not now. I do not have the necessary supplies to ease the way for our joining and you are so tense that I could not touch you intimately without hurting you. I will do all I can to make our first time special, memorable and with as much pleasure for you as I can give. For now, just let me hold you?"

"Can I...can I see you?" Price whispered. He could not stop the whimper as Grayson left the bed and slowly removed his nightshirt. The darker man's chest was broad and peppered liberally with fur that tapered off towards his stomach. It then led from his navel to a thick bush that surrounded a half-hard organ of pleasing dimensions that befitted the taller man perfectly.

Rising to his knees, Price removed his own nightshirt, not sure whether Grayson had seen him naked before. His head dropped as he remembered he was not the innocent he had once been. His body trembled with fear that Grayson would remember, too and no longer love or desire him.

"Look at me, Price," Grayson demanded softly. He waited until the green orbs that reflected doubt and fear were focused on him. "You are beautiful and I love you. Your body is pure to me because you never chose to give yourself before. You are choosing for the first time to make love. I will honour and cherish that choice. It will be both my pleasure and privilege, to be the first you want to lie with, the first you want to share your body with, the first who will make love with you."

"Hold me, Grayson, please?" Price begged, reaching out to the older man. The honestly-declared words had him blinking back tears and desperate to be in Grayson's arms. He nestled, loved and cherished, held tightly by his lover.

It felt so right, so perfect that he leaned up and daringly captured Grayson's lips with his own. The kiss was gentle, sweet and chaste and then he was being tucked under Grayson's chin. He no longer feared rejection or that nightmares would invade his sleep. In the sanctuary of Grayson's arms he felt safe, secure and loved.

****

The next day, Grayson and Price called round to Baker Street. Seeing the anxiety on both men's faces, John took Price aside to speak to the younger man, leaving Grayson to talk to Sherlock.

Listening intently, Sherlock gave a sound of annoyance as the Count's appearance was revealed. It could have just been coincidence, but the older man could not be certain. Grayson was wound tighter than a drum and Sherlock could understand and sympathise.

"Grayson," Sherlock murmured, taking the pharmacist's hand in his and forcing the anxious man to face him. "In all our time together, just three have hurt, or threatened hurt to, John. One lived to be hung only because John would not have me kill in cold blood when he was winged by his assailant's bullet. The body of Colonel Sebastian Moran will never be found and I threw the corpse of Professor Moriarty off Reichenbach Falls with a smile on my lips."

Grayson stared as if he had never seen the man before him. Sherlock's smile was as chilling as the words he had recently uttered.

"Much of my work is cerebral, deductive reasoning requires thinking," Sherlock said, his eyes closing briefly and then pinning Grayson with their glittering stare. "But John sanitises much of the dirty work we both do, the scum we have to rub shoulders with and the squalor in which we sometimes have to work. John's safety is as important to me as my anonymity is to him. The merest hint that he would be harmed in any way is met with zero tolerance. That is why we are still able to do this work."

"But what of Price?" Grayson asked, not sure what his friend truly meant, other than a clear verbal display of the love he had for his own younger man.

"I also fight to protect my friends and that which is good and pure. If this Count attempts in any way to harm Price, or kidnap him, then John and I will do all in our power to stop him. Permanently, if necessary."

That statement had Grayson raise his brows. There was no mistaking its finality and Sherlock's face brokered no argument.

"Thank you," he murmured.

Sitting on the bedroom chair, John indicated that Price perch on the bed and listened to the younger man. Although the Count was a major concern for the younger man, so was his love for Grayson.

"What if I cannot give him what he wants, Doctor Watson?" he asked, his green eyes clouded with worry.

"Call me, John when you are here, Price. I would like you to consider Sherlock and me as your friends. Sherlock is still looking into the activities of the Count and has even called upon his brother Mycroft to assist. Let him deal with that concern," John said, patting the younger man's knee. "Now, as to the other..."

"I do love him," Price insisted. "I'm just...just..."

"Afraid," John supplied. "And understandably so, the Count treated you terribly. However, you love Grayson and he loves you. He will understand you need time. Do not force yourself before you are ready. In that direction lays disaster. Become accustomed to the loving touches that can be shared without being too intimate. Enjoy kissing. One of the things Sherlock and I like is to have the fire blazing, the lamps dimmed and set out blankets and cushions on which to lie. The warmth and muted lighting makes it cosy and as if just the two of us exist. Above all, Price, remember you are loved and Grayson wants to both receive and give pleasure. Do not try too hard."

"Thank you, Doc...John. You have been a great help to me," Price said.

He had much to think about.

****

It had been a week since they had declared their love for each other. A week that was nearly perfect in Price's mind. Grayson and he had taken the time to talk and discover the depth of their feelings and of Price's fears. Grayson felt freer to touch Price and indulged in his new privilege whenever possible. He touched Price when they were alone, a hand on his back or stroking his hair, or occasionally, trailing fingertips across his face. From the night of their declaration Grayson would ensure Price was settled in the bed they now shared and curl protectively around him.

It was wonderful and loving and chaste. Price felt the love he held for Grayson warm him as he remembered the older man's promise that that they would go slow and they had. His fear had held him back from doing little more than cuddle and kiss chastely. But now, a week on, he was ready to progress. It was time for him to bury the memories of how the Count had treated him and learn love from the man he adored and who loved him deeply enough to let him dictate their pace, no matter how slowly that might have been.

"I would like us to... um...be a little...um...more intimate, Grayson," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. As much as he wanted it with his heart, it seemed his head was still a little recalcitrant. A crimson blush accompanied his stumbled words.

Grayson smiled tenderly. He had known all afternoon that something was on the younger man's mind. They had eaten the dinner provided by his live-out housekeeper and they were now snugly ensconced in his tiny sitting room in front of a nicely blazing fire.

"I want to be more intimate, too. But you need to be comfortable asking for what you need. If you cannot ask, you are not yet ready and we are not going to rush."

It struck Grayson that they had not really kissed as yet. Not really. All Grayson had done, so far, were chaste kisses on the forehead and occasionally on the lip; a mere fleeting touch that was little more than a brief promise of things yet to come. Carefully, he drew Price towards him, angling a little so they faced each other. Price looked up at him, his verdant eyes wide, then he slowly closed the gap between them and they kissed.

It was everything but chaste. It was deep, and slow, Grayson licking at the seam of Price's lips and groaning his delight as they parted. His tongue slid forward, tasting the sweet depths of the younger man's mouth. He was elated as he felt his lover's shyer muscle slide alongside his more adventurous one. Before he realised what had happened, they had moved to stretch out on the couch, Price on top of him, their mouths never losing contact.

For a long time, they followed an easy pace, cuddling and kissing. Their shirts melted away in the heat of their passion, revealing new areas in which to delight. Grayson revelled in the smooth, alabaster skin of his younger lover and Price adored nuzzling his face and lips over the dark fur of Grayson's chest. Finally Grayson pulled back a little, letting them lie wrapped in one another's arms. Price sighed happily laying his head trustingly on Grayson's chest.

"Let's go to bed," Grayson suggested. "You go get ready. I'll make sure everything is secure here."

Dropping a kiss to the older man's lips, Price obeyed. Standing in the bedroom, his nightshirt in hand, he nibbled anxiously on his lower lip and then made a decision. He folded the garment and left it over the chair in the corner of the room. Then he slipped naked into bed and waited.

As Grayson entered, he saw Price who looked at him. He appeared so small and vulnerable in the huge bed. Then the older man noticed that Price's torso was naked. He glanced at the chair and saw the younger man's nightshirt. Slowly, he removed his own and folded it to join Price's.

He got into bed beside his lover and pulled the covers up. Then he reached out and put an arm around Price, drawing him close. Price settled cuddled against him with contented sigh. They ended up the way they had been on the sofa, with Price's head on Grayson's chest, Grayson's strong arms cradling his lover protectively.

"This is nice," Price said.

"Yes it is," Grayson agreed happily. He had initially thought they could cuddle, kiss a little, and go to sleep. However, having Price naked in his bed, in his arms, he suddenly felt the need to do something more. It had been easy to remain chaste and keep desire in abeyance when Price was not ready for anything intimate, but now the feel of a naked and aroused Price was almost overwhelming. All his instincts were demanding he do something to mark his mate, his beloved. He slowly rolled so Price was beneath him and began kissing down his lover's neck and then his chest.

"Is this alright, my love?" he asked.

"Yes, oh, yes," Price whimpered. Tentatively he carded his hands through Grayson's hair and then guided him downwards. "Please?" he begged.