Back from the Dead (Sherlock)

Sherlock felt John's movements become shaky and hesitant as he built up to an orgasm. He gasped as the other man's teeth dug into his shoulders then he felt him explode into his hand and cry out his name.

It was all Sherlock needed to tip him over the edge. His toes curled over and his mind emptied, feeling nothing except the ecstacy of his own climax.

"Ahhh John...John..." he cried out, quite loudly, not even caring if anyone outside in the corridor heard him, not caring about the fact that they'd both just made a complete mess of the hospital sheets.

John was smiling against the other's skin as he came down from his high, he felt Sherlock's body relax next to his and he fell into a blissful torpor.
He wanted this to last forever.

"Are you going to ask for sex every time you are bored now?" he teased him, nuzzling his shoulder just lightly, kissing where he had bitten the pale skin.

Sherlock turned his head towards John's kisses and planted his lips on the other man's forehead, feeling relaxed and deeply satisfied.

"Seems like a good idea," he whispered with a smile. "Although I do get bored a lot soooo...could you keep up?" He nudged John playfully in the ribs.

Just then they heard someone at the door, rattling the handle.

"I am getting old, but I think I want you enough to make it possible..." he commented, starting when he heard the rattle at the door.

"Damn," he muttered, quickly sliding off the bed and tucking himself in. "I hope it's not Mycroft..." he exclaimed, reaching out for his trousers.

"Cover the mess will you? I will bring you clean linens in a second.."

Sherlock quickly pulled down his hospital gown and wrapped the sheets round himself. It was quite uncomfortable lying in a wet sticky mess but he couldn't wipe the grin from off his face as the doctor came in to see how he was doing.

"How are you feeling Mr Holmes?" he asked with a friendly smile, checking on Sherlock's medical card and stats.

"Amazing," Sherlock smirked, but looking at John instead of the doctor. "Absolutley amazing..."

John's face was completely red as he let the doctor in. The man looked at him disapproving, he knew him from the troubles he caused before.

He stood by the side of the bed, watching Sherlock and feeling even more embarrassed as the detective exclaimed just how happy he was.
It was touching as well.
If not for the simple fact that he felt the same.

"Should we have your friend leave for a bit while I go on with your examination?" said the doctor with an uncomfortable look directed towards John.
The doctor frowned thwarted.

Sherlock stared at the doctor confused for a moment as to why he would want John to leave. Then he quickly remembered their earlier conversation and the trouble John had had because he wasn't any kind of relative.

"No, John stays," he replied indignantly, "Anything you have to say you can say in front of him. He's a doctor anyway and...and...and we're going to get married."

Sherlock glared at the doctor, daring him to order John to leave now, and snuck out his hand from under the bed clothes to grab hold of John's.

John couldn't help the grin that spread on his lips when Sherlock grabbed his hand and mentioned marriage. He had never been so happy of thinking about commitment. He could hardly imagine just how good it would feel to have papers stating that Sherlock was his and no one else's.

The doctor nodded, "In that case," he said and moved closer, "I would like to see your arm..." he muttered, and took Sherlock's appendage, to inspect it.
"Does it hurt at all?"

Sherlock grinned at John and let go of his hand temporarily to try and get himself up into a better sitting position. He turned his head to listen to the doctor's questions.

His little activity with John had almost made him forget all about his bad arm. Now it came rushing back to him and Sherlock stared at the useless limb with a certain degree of hatred, trying to analyse how it felt as the doctor has requested.

"Not pain as such," he replied slowly, "just sort of...an odd kind of feeling. It's throbbing a little I guess. What's it looking like?"

The doctor nodded, taking the hand and inspecting the skin up to his arm. "The colour is good, and the muscles are working correctly..." he poked Sherlock's fingertips slightly, there was a bit of a reflex.

"It will take a while to know how bad the wound will impair your movements... but for now it is all going well, it's promising," he said, finally stepping back.

John couldn't help the hope showing on his face, and he squeezed Sherlock's free hand.

"It will take a long time though, regardless of how bad this is..." said the doctor as he wrote on the chart.

Sherlock listened intently to what the doctor said and nodded slowly. He was pleased his arm was looking 'promising' but the idea of it taking a long time didn't sound very exciting.

He felt John's hand in his and looked at him with a warm smile, tracing his knuckles with the side of his thumb.
"I'll need you more than ever now John," he said gently, "you'll have to be my extra arm for a while...if you don't mind."

"Lunch'll be round shortly I believe," said the doctor as he finished up his notes. "If there's anything else you need just press the buzzer. I'll be in to see you again tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Surely I don't have to stay another night? Can't I go home? John can look after me..." He looked at the doctor with pleading eyes.

"Of course I'll make sure to take care of you, Sherlock," he said simply, looking at the doctor as Sherlock pleaded with him about getting discharged.
He didn't let himself be too affectionate in his words, a bit embarrassed by the stranger's presence.

"You would have to come back for the check up tomorrow morning as well anyway... your... fiance... is a doctor, but you will need a specialist to follow you," he explained, looking at John pointedly.

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically. "Fine, fine," he replied, "I don't mind coming back tomorrow for a check up...I just want to go home tonight...Hospitals are so...dull."

The doctor shrugged. "Very well. Get your things together and I'll discharge you. Don't try to do anything with that arm. Just rest please. And we'll see you tomorrow."

He finished making his notes then swept out of the room. Sherlock turned to John with a look of delight - "We can go home!" he exclaimed.

John was torn in between being happy Sherlock was going to come home and actually being worried about the other's arm.
It was good news, it meant he could sleep curled up with his boyfriend, but he knew that Sherlock would try to move and be as undisciplined as always,

"As long as you behave, Sherlock," he told him with a smile, hoping the detective would take him seriously.

Half an hour later and they were in a taxi on their way back to Baker Street, Sherlock with his arm all wrapped up in bandages and placed in a sling around his neck. His free hand was entwined with John's and his head rested lovingly on the other man's shoulder.

"Any plans for the evening?" he asked with a small sigh.

"A good dinner and early sleep, that's your plan anyway..." he said simply, turning around a bit to place a kiss on top of the other man's head.

"Don't even think about doing anything else, I won't let you work if I have to tie you down," he muttered, squeezing Sherlock's hand slightly.

The cab arrived at Baker Street and they got out. As they approached the black front door of 221B Sherlock noticed a white piece of paper shoved through the letterbox. He removed it as they went inside and closed the door behind them, then opened the folded sheet up to read its contents jogging up the stairs to their flat.

"It's from Mycroft," Sherlock explained, turning round to face John. "Apparently Moran had a car waiting for him outside. He escaped. We have to go after him."

"You aren't going anywhere... you are resting at home," he muttered with a glare, pushing Sherlock upstairs.
"You already got injured... Moran might be in the Caribbean by now for what we know... we have no lead," he protested, and closed the door behind them.

"He will come back to finish the job once his wounds are better, so I wouldn't worry about him for now..." he said, motioning for Sherlock to sit down.

Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but John had pushed him onto the armchair with orders to rest. He stared at his useless arm angrily.

"OK John, you win," he sighed and swung his legs over the arm of the chair. "Wouldn't be much good anyway in this state."

Sherlock reached for the remote and flicked through the channels idly. "Boring...dull...seen it...dull...boring...seen it." He turned off the TV and hurled the remote at the wall. "Nothing on John. Entertain me."

((Sherlock's demanding uh XDDD ))

"You shouldn't take it so badly, you will get your revenge... but only after you get better," he muttered, and checked his phone as he moved to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"You are supposed to rest, Sherlock, how about you go to your room?" he suggested, his eyes moving over the other's body briefly. He couldn't help but wonder whether Sherlock wanted him to entertain him again.

"If you keep using that excuse I might just decide to fuck that pretty ass of yours regardless of experience," he commented with a smirk, blushing a bit when he realized just how lewd he had been.

"Go to my room?" Sherlock repeated impetuously. "I'm not a child! Besides...nothing interesting ever happens in my room." He sighed.

When he heard John's latest suggestion for entertainment Sherlock grinned broadly and sat up in his chair with an eager expression. "Now that sounds like entertainment. Anyway, I watched the video, that counts as experience."

"I merely meant you should go to your room to rest, you know? Sleep in your bed?" he commented, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I will have you remember we had our first night in your bedroom, so I would think that counts as something interesting, unless you don't think it was?"

The eager expression on Sherlock's face made him laugh a bit though. "We haven't bought lube nor anything..." he pointed up shrugging, God, he wished they could do it though, he wanted to make Sherlock his.

Sherlock smiled, remembering his first night back, what they got up to together. "Indeed it was...it was very special John. I won't forget it. Ever."

He stood up and moved towards John, giving him a small kiss on the lips. "I've got a good idea...why don't...you go and buy some? Right now. I'll make the tea."

"Well, I sure hope you won't... you shouldn't say that nothing interesting happens there then..." he muttered, and looked at Sherlock surprised at the rest of his words.

"Are you serious?" he asked, looking at the door. "Sherlock, you are.. supposed to rest... not to make tea or have sex..." he protested feebly.

Sherlock grabbed John by the scruff of his jumper, bringing their lips crashing together, and slipped his tongue inside his mouth, kissing him briefly before pulling back and letting go.

"Just get them...." he growled into John's ear. "It will help me sleep."