Hemlock Bones: A Stud in Scarlet

Excerpt From: Hemlock Bones: A Stud in Scarlet

In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the army. It was a somewhat difficult time, being among so many men, with me being who and what I am. I suppose people may have guessed… I did not join in the rather ribald conversations regarding women, talking about their breasts and lower regions as other men did, telling one and all I wished I had a buxom female to curl up to at night. It was a revelation, that time, learning perhaps what I should have been thinking about, what I should have wanted, and realising I wanted no part of it. Could not have any part of it. How could I explain that the softness of a woman did not appeal? That the swells on their chests were not something I wished to explore? That I preferred the flat planes belonging to a man, the smaller nipples that I longed to flick my tongue over? And their private parts… Those did not excite me either. I did not relish, as my fellow companions did, the thought of pushing my fingers inside such softness. No, I found pleasure in the thought of grasping a cock, knowing exactly how it would feel having palmed my own every night. To bring another man to the brink, knowing he enjoyed my touch as much as I enjoyed touching him… That was what I wanted.

But to voice such needs, such yearnings, would have been folly. Disastrous. Dangerous. Not only would I have been cast out, looked upon as a deviant unworthy of their company, I would have been arrested.

It did not bear thinking about, so of course, I kept my desires to myself. Smiled at those men relating tales of how they played with women. Substituted those women in my mind for men as I allowed the sexual scenarios to bloom. And it was only natural that they should. After all, I was a man who yearned for love. That it was a yearning to have that love given to me by another man was, I knew, frowned upon by many, but to be held and given the chance to make someone happy was something everyone wanted, was it not?

There was one gentleman I took a particular liking to, although not in a sexual manner. He seemed much the same as I, dangling on the fringes of the group, never joining in. I sensed we were the same in the respect that we did not hanker after women, but not once did I ask him about it, nor did he ask me. It was not something one could discuss openly, and to do so, should there be loose tongues or inquisitive ears, would have been our downfall. The order of the day in our situation was to keep silent, to dream and wish without sharing those wants with another soul.

At times I felt I might go quite mad.

Having completed my studies there, I left behind my times of feeling as though a fish out of water and was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. There it was quite different. The men were not as brash as those in Netley, and I found myself more comfortable in the new company I was keeping. No one voiced their sexual wants, and I was so much safer in that I did not need to constantly remember to watch my responses and actions. I did not fear being asked to join conversations in which I did not belong, therefore, I was at ease and felt more like myself.

The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had broken out. On landing at Bombay, I found the weather a startling change to what I had been used to. When grasping my cock at night to bring myself to completion in order to drift into a pleasant, refreshing sleep—as was my usual ritual—I became too hot, too uncomfortable. My nights were spent thrashing, and by day my concentration was perhaps not as sharp as it should have been.

Still, I was not addled enough that I was unable to focus when attention to detail was needed. I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy’s country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new duties.

The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. I wondered whether someone in higher authority suspected my leanings and held it against me, preventing me from climbing the career ladder. That would not have surprised me. To be unaccepted in this way was something I took as given. Not everyone felt that love was paramount, and that who you loved did not matter so long as you were happy. I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal battle of Maiwand. While there I witnessed something that will remain with me forever—my first sighting of two men together. I had no inkling they were the same as I, their mannerisms much like any other man, and during the day they did not spend time together, fighting side by side. I suppose my shock at seeing them entwined would have been just as severe as another man stumbling upon them—when one does not expect to encounter such a thing due to the sensitive nature of the act, it throws you somewhat.

I had left my tent to enjoy the cooler air, tired of body from the day’s events but unable to stop my mind playing the awful war images I had seen that day. I thought a quick turn about the camp would help. Knowing we were protected by the night watch, I was safe enough to walk the outskirts, intending to circle the camp once then return to my tent. However, at the halfway point of my jaunt, I heard grunts coming from behind a tent situated away from the others and, worried that one of the men was struggling with the enemy, I went to investigate.

What I saw literally stole my breath for a few moments. Although I had to squint to bring the scene into focus, I was able to discern clearly, by the light of the moon, two naked bodies. At first I thought one of the men had enticed a female to the camp somehow, a female paid to engage in the act happening before me. But the sight of two cocks dashed my initial perception. One man was on his knees, his erection jutting out, the tip brushing the inner leg of another, sucking a cock belonging to a slight fellow who gripped the hair of the kneeling man as though his life depended on it.

Confusion claimed me for a moment, and my mouth dropped open as I took it all in. The joy of knowing other men were the same as I was quickly eclipsed by the fear that if they were caught it would be the end for them. I was stuck between wanting to step forward and warn them they ought to be more careful and remaining where I was to silently watch. To my shame I chose the latter. Once they had finished—resting on the ground entwined in one another’s arms, sated, I imagined, in a way one’s hand did not have the ability to achieve—I crept back to my tent hotter than I had been upon leaving it. That night I was able to come quickly, the memories of what I had seen helping to tip me over the edge.