When finally the bathroom door opened Victor emerged, dabbing at his newly shaved and perfectly smooth face with his shaped fingernails, the near perfect image of a man that was fit for Sherlock's bed. As soon as Victor walked into the sitting room he had to stop and take a moment, stumbling only a bit onto the door frame so as to try to support himself. Evidently Victor had not expected this to be so easy, he was undoubtedly still trying to rationalize in his head why Sherlock would be dressed in just that without any romantic connotations. When men first turn to the dark side they always assume that they will be alone, and so when their advances as so simply met they were always very perplexed. However Sherlock was not in the mood to wait, for as much as he knew Victor desired him, he too had something of a longing for the man that was just beginning to stumble into his presence.
"Whiskey?" Sherlock wondered, getting to his feet and summoning the man to the fireside. Victor took a heavy breath, walking to Sherlock's side as if he couldn't believe how truly lucky he had become. He accepted the glass of whiskey and took a mere sip so as to be polite, however Sherlock noticed that his eyes never wandered, they were stuck on Sherlock and the skin that he dared show.
"You seem uncomfortable, Mr. Trevor." Sherlock presumed, setting his glass onto the fireplace mantle and stepping towards the immobilized man. Victor could only try to breathe, this fingers shaking so heavily around his glass that Sherlock had to take it from him, setting it beside his own and stepping so close that he could fix his fingers around Victor's tie.
"Not in the least, Mr. Holmes." Victor assured in a breath.
"Good...good. This is what you want then?" Sherlock assumed, his fingers beginning to work around the tie so as to loosen it from Victor's neck, letting it drape over the man's shoulders as finally he began to unbutton just the top buttons of his neat white shirt.
"What I want..." Victor breathed, getting daring enough to lift his own fingers, brushing them against Sherlock's cheek, trailing down to his neck.
"Yes Mr. Trevor." Sherlock agreed, shivering at the man's cold touch yet stepping closer all the same, insisting to Victor that it was quiet alright that he touch him.
"I want you." Victor agreed with barely a voice, with barely a whisper. Sherlock smiled in satisfaction, for that was exactly what he had presumed when he brought him here.
"Hm, that is what I suspected. So long as you keep quiet, Mr. Trevor, you can most certainly have me." Sherlock agreed, undoing some of Victor's buttons once more, exposing the man's chest as much as he could in such a short amount of time, for Victor was getting ever the more impatient.
"Not a word." Victor promised, to which Sherlock smiled, for that was precisely what he had imagined.
"Not a word indeed." He agreed, and with that he pulled Victor to him, allowing the man's lips to finally fall onto his own, allowing the man to finally get a taste of what he had been craving for so long! It wasn't long until Sherlock was able to lead the man to the couch, he fell upon it and brought Victor down with him, brought him down on top of him. Victor's lips branched to Sherlock's neck while Sherlock worked on pulling off Victor's jacket, pulling apart the buttons now so that they ripped from the fabric, bouncing about the wooden floors as finally the man was a bit more exposed. This of course was the reason Sherlock took so many risks, how rewarding it was to finally have a man that adored you so! He felt worshipped whenever a man couldn't unstick their lips from his skin, he felt loved when they couldn't stop running their fingers through his hair or over his skin. Sherlock felt appreciated, as he did so often with a man, and Victor didn't fall short of any of Sherlock's pressing expectations. And so he passed the test, he had whatever qualifications were needed for a man that Sherlock could spend the night with, for his smooth face proved to be quite gentle against Sherlock's skin. Yes he would be fine, yes he would be...worthy. And so Sherlock kissed Victor once more, all while his own hands fell to the cord around his robe, undoing it and drawing Victor in ever closer, letting the fabric fall away, letting his own lips brush against Victor's neck as the man let out a large breath, a satisfied breath. For this was what he had wanted all along. 

 Sherlock woke in the darkness and heard Victor's breaths once more, he felt his chest rising and falling against his own. It was dark, and yet it wasn't necessarily still night time. The large, thick curtains of the sitting room often prevented any light from getting in, and for all Sherlock could tell it might be twelve noon or twelve midnight. Either way it didn't matter to him, for the fire was still burning (if only slightly) and Victor was sleeping peacefully with Sherlock wrapped protectively in his arms. This was Sherlock's second favorite part of every relationship, his first of course being the beforehand, and his second being afterwards. The during was always nice, of course, however the during could be relived over and over again, for the rest of his life if he really wanted to. He had a man in his bed almost every night, so tonight's occurrence wasn't exactly as special as it might have been with Tobias, the first man to ever have gone through the cycle. The anxiousness of beforehand was always the most magical part, the sharp breaths and the nervous little wandering eyes, the clenching fingers and the pursed lips, yes that was most certainly the highlight of Sherlock's experiences with a man. And yet now, waking cradled in unfamiliar arms, feeling breaths that were coming in an unrecognizable yet slow pattern on the back of his neck, watching the logs as they charred and fell towards the ashes in the fireplace below, well it was peaceful and it was perfect. It was moments like these when Sherlock could remind himself just how desired he had come to be, just how beautiful he had the potential to be. He could go over every kiss and touch in his head, he could remember every single exhale that came from Victor and he could taste every inhale of his own. Sherlock could still fell the ghostly fingerprints against his skin and he could remember the beautiful sweetness of lips upon his neck, upon his chest. And he knew of course that those pleasures, however short lived they had proven to be tonight, would be his forever, all he had to do was ask. 

"Victor?" Sherlock whispered, rolling over so as to face the man, making a commotion enough so that Victor's eyes finally opened. He readjusted his arms so as to keep Sherlock close, however their faces were now so close that Sherlock was having a difficult time looking into his eyes without straining his own. Those electric blues were so close and so prominent, Sherlock could see ever vein that crisscrossed along the whites of his eyes, he could see all the emotions that hid behind the blue irises, he could see the relief now, and the love, the admiration. It was wonderful to see such things, no fear, no regret. He knew that with the love would come the compliance, and with compliance would come the necessary secrecy, the loyalty that was needed if Sherlock's schemes were to continue as they had before.
"Yes?" Victor wondered in a sleepy breath, a small smile appearing on his face as he studied Sherlock's eyes, just as Sherlock was studying his.
"I need to ask you something, something quite serious I'm afraid." Sherlock said quietly, tracing his fingers up Victor's arm so as to remind him of the love and the admiration that he would receive here at the Holmes manor. Victor's face fell, however he nodded, looking eagerly at Sherlock's lips as if hoping that after such a serious talk he could kiss them once more.
"Yes of course, Mr. Holmes. Ask me anything." Victor agreed. Sherlock nodded, taking a moment so as to pretend that he hadn't asked this same question seven other times, trying to make it seem like this was on the spot and not rehearsed for the past three years.
"It's the matter of secrecy, Mr. Trevor, that worries me the most. You know as well as I that such love is forbidden by law, if we are discovered..."
"I won't tell a soul, I gave you my word before and I'm certainly not going to break it now." Victor promised immediately, however Sherlock shushed him by pressing his forefinger to Victor's lips, silencing the man and making his cheeks go quite red.
"Yes I remember, I remember. However you are married, Mr. Trevor, and if we upkeep such a relationship there will be questions asked. Just because you do not say anything does not mean that people will not know." Sherlock whispered. Victor was quiet for just a moment, seemingly trying to figure out a way to pledge his secrecy even if his way of disclosing information was not intentional.
"What would you have me do, Mr. Holmes?" Victor whispered nervously. Sherlock smiled ever so carefully, letting his finger fall from Victor's lips and stroking his knuckles against the man's very defined jawline.
"I would have you stay, of course." Sherlock murmured. "Stay with me, here in my manor."
"Stay here?" Victor clarified, a sort of perplexed look falling upon his face before Sherlock smiled sweetly, brushing his fingers against Victor's neck and letting the man relax a bit more.
"Yes of course, here. It will be the most accommodating living quarters; I will feed you, dress you, give you a roof over your head and provide you with the very best of personal care. And every night you have a chance of being called down to me, where we shall spend the most wonderful evenings together, just like we had tonight. You could have me...Victor, for the rest of your life. The only thing is that you cannot leave the house, and you cannot tell anyone where you have gone. You must disappear." Sherlock instructed, watching as Victor's face twisted and contorted with all of the words Sherlock had said. At first he seemed worried, and then he dissolved into a look of temptation, almost as if Sherlock's offer was simply too good to refuse. Now, however, he looked as if he had some sort of revelation, as if many pieces of two different puzzles were suddenly coming together unexpectedly.
"It's been you, hasn't it? I am not the first man you have tempted into your house?" Victor clarified.
"Not the first, and not the last." Sherlock agreed quietly.
"The kidnapper." Victor carried. Sherlock had almost expected him to be afraid, and yet Victor almost seemed to be relieved to have found the truth before he too disappeared. He almost looked satisfied to have closed the case before joining the list of the men who had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth.
"I am not a kidnapper, Victor, for I have never held anyone against their will. The only thing that makes me criminal is my taste of lovers, that is the only law I have broken." Sherlock whispered. "And yet, Mr. Trevor, my need for secrecy is quite the urgent one. I know that it is difficult for you to let your old life go, however I cannot have you walking the streets. I need you here, Mr. Trevor, and there are many different ways to keep you here." As Sherlock was speaking his hand traveled down to Victor's neck, stroking it lovingly yet threateningly, reminding the man that should he speak something that only half contradicts Sherlock's methods that there would be another hand to join the first, and this one's grip would be a lot stronger. Oh but he knew that Victor would comply, he could see it in his eyes, these threats were wasted, they were unnecessary! He could already feel the man's muscles relaxing, his heart beating slower, as if he had looked into Sherlock's eyes once more and found himself a home.
"No need for threats, Mr. Holmes. No you will not break any laws by keeping me here, that is for sure. If staying here is what needs to be done then I will of course stay with you. It's a small price to pay for your hospitality, and for your love." Victor agreed in a breath.
"That is precisely what I hoped you would say. That is exactly what I needed to hear." Sherlock whispered with a smile, finally leaning closer so that his lips could brush over Victor's producing a spark of adoration once more, drumming up the steady heartbeat that began to get faster in Victor's chest. Sherlock smiled into the kiss, smiling because he knew that Victor's word was genuine, and his obedience was to be trusted. This was a kiss of a loyal man, this was the kiss of a man who had gotten himself hooked on a feeling that he could not so easily give up. This was a love that would last forever...one that would go no further than the walls of the Holmes manor the rest of its existence. 

 John POV: It had been three days since the interviews at the brothel when the very moment they had been waiting for was sprung upon them. It was of course very bad police work to just sit back and wait for something to happen, waiting for someone to get hurt, or someone to go missing...and yet what choice did they have? What else could they do except wait, especially when they had no leads to follow and no clues to go on! Their saving grace came in the form of a desperate woman, one who ran into the police station just as Greg and John were sitting around and staring at pictures once more, perplexed to the point where they could do nothing else but brainstorm. The interviews had gotten them nowhere, and unfortunately that was the last of John's brilliant ideas, at least for now. And so when they began to hear feminine screaming, well John had to admit that along with his immediate terror and confusion, relief was somewhere in the mix. He and Greg both jumped to their feet and raced out to the reception desk, were Janine was having quite a difficult time trying to keep a woman at bay. She meant nothing to John, for he had never seen her before and honestly he might have survived longer if he hadn't. She could probably have been described as ugly before she had broken down into tears, for her face wasn't entirely proportionate and her hair seemed to be a bit too frizzy to be worn under such a small, struggling hat. With the added tears, blotchy redness, and dripping makeup, well her grief obviously wasn't doing her any good at the present moment. 

"Ma'am, ma'am I need you to calm down, please the detectives will be here any moment if you could please just...oh Greg thank God!" Janine exclaimed, falling away from her task of restraining the frantic woman. She immediately burst towards the men, falling at their knees as if beseeching them to take some sort of action on her newfound tragedy.
"Please help me, please!" she wailed, making John step back just a tad so as to make sure any of that dripping mascara wouldn't land on his nice shoes.
"Mrs. Trevor?" Greg clarified, helping the woman to her feet as carefully as he could all while she tried to wrap her arms around him like a child, as if pleading to him for support in the only way she could think of. Her desperation was of course rather pathetic, however Greg seemed more interested in what had brought her to such a state rather than worried about how they might calm her down.
"Mrs. Trevor...Victor's wife?" John clarified. At the mention of Victor the woman burst into another great wail, standing up just long enough to grab an already soiled handkerchief from her pocket and blow her nose furiously.
"Oh my poor husband, he's been gone three days and I've just now realized what it means!" she exclaimed, shaking her head and falling into the counter for some stabilization. Janine very hastily grabbed the shining silver bell from next to her arm, obviously worried for its cleanliness as the frazzled woman fell back.
"Your husband's gone missing?" John clarified.
"Victor, yes, Victor is gone! He's been taken by that horrible kidnapper, he's been taken from me, from our children!" Mrs. Trevor wailed.
"I don't remember Victor ever mentioning he was a father?" Greg clarified in a rather confused way, looking towards the woman as if wondering about her mental stability right now.
"He wasn't but...but he could've been!" she exclaimed, falling into another bout of tears as John looked over at Greg nervously. Honestly he wasn't sure what they were supposed to do in this situation, for John's very short years of marriage still hadn't prepared him for handling a frantic woman. It was all the two of them could do but lead her to their office and seat her in the only guest chair (John was now forced to stand) and offer her a nice couple of tissues to dab her eyes with. It took a while for Mrs. Trevor to calm down, however after a moment of their reassuring her that they would do everything in their power to find her husband she was finally able to get her breath back and stop blubbering. The sad truth of it all was that they really couldn't do much, however much she took their word for gospel the best that they could do was just what they had been doing now, sitting and staring at pictures and drawing blanks.     

"Tell me Mrs. Trevor, when did your husband go missing?" John wondered, taking out a notepad and pen so as to make notes of what had happened right underneath their noses.
"Oh let me think, it's been three days...so it was a Sunday night. He left around three o'clock, said he would be out late and might not come home until morning. I didn't think to ask what he was doing, oh but if I had known that would be the last time I saw him I would've at least kissed him goodbye!" The woman wailed, fresh tears now falling once more down the carved chasms of her cheeks.
"Three nights ago...Greg we saw him that night, didn't we?" John clarified, speaking in a low voice so as to make sure Mrs. Trevor didn't over hear their conversation. Greg thought for a brief moment before nodding in excitement, looking towards the woman as if wondering just what she was missing about her husband's life.
"Ya, at the brothel. You're right." Greg agreed with a grin.
"Mrs. Trevor, how would you describe your husband's behavior before he left?" John wondered, to which the woman sighed for a moment, thinking all while she wiped away the tears that had fallen from her cheeks, creating large messes of caked makeup.
"Oh quite the usual I'm afraid, although he did start waking up earlier. Said he had a coffee habit now, but I think it had something to do with a report, he always was so dedicated to his job." Mrs. Trevor said with a sigh, shaking her head as if this really was a tragedy. John nodded, for he had seen Mr. Trevor at the café where he sat most all the mornings he had been there. Now that he thought about it, however, Victor hadn't been at his usual table for the past three mornings, and evidently this was why! He had joined the list, the eighth to be caught, and this time he was even familiar to the police! What fools they all were for not noticing his disaperence before now!
"How would you describe your marriage with him?" Greg wondered abruptly, evidently caring very little for the poor woman's feelings. There were no euphemisms here, apparently.
"We were happy." She said after some pause, speaking with hesitation as if she wasn't entirely sure of what she was saying.
"You don't sound too certain, Mrs. Trevor." Greg pointed out, leaning on his desk with his pen out, ready to take note of every little move she made during this rather uncomfortable interrogation. John shuffled nervously next to Greg's shoulder, for he really didn't feel very good about pressuring this poor woman into speaking, however he knew it was necessary and therefore he didn't do anything to stop it.
"I loved my Victor very much, and when we first got married...oh well detectives I always had my suspicions about him! I didn't know why he had married me, and even now I wonder why he kept me! It's not like I'm some great catch, and throughout our entire marriage he always refused to be, well....intimate. But he loved me, I know he did, in his own way he loved me! He kept food on our table, he kept a roof over our head, oh to think that he might have left me is just impossible, he was stolen from me, I tell you that now, someone stole my sweet Victor away!" she exclaimed, collapsing once more into tears while John just raised his eyebrows in interest. And so she admitted it, their marriage wasn't picture perfect, and there obviously was plenty of room in such a story to fit an affair into the mix. It would make sense, undoubtedly, that Victor would be seeing other women if he had never even been romantic with his own wife. There were secrets here, hidden in the mix of his disinterest and her tears, secrets that were John's job to uncover.