Interruptions (John/Sherlock)

Sherlock ate half his piece of Shepherd’s Pie. He wanted his mind in top condition to be able to accelerate to top speed if needed.

Mary was an intelligent and easy conversational partner. He challenged her with fake questions and almost had her convinced of the wrong answer. It was funny and he liked debating with her. This joyed and annoyed Sherlock. It joyed him because FINALLY someone was almost as clever as he was, but it annoyed him because he was John’s date. And John’s date had to go, for certain.

John had done his best to look as good as possible for Mary, which was so obvious it irritated Sherlock.

When John made his ‘subtle’ move, Sherlock’s attention was abruptly ripped from the screen and drawn by Mary and John. Sherlock’s eyes widened and scooted between the two who were too close to each other. John draped an arm over her shoulder and she laid her arm over his waist. Without knowing, Sherlock’s breath got shallower, lifted his feet on the chair and hugged his knees. He shut up immediately.

He wondered how it would feel like. How it would feel like if he would be in Mary’s position, curled up against John. John’s warm hand draped over him, holding him close. Sherlock would probably be able to hear John’s heart beating. The warmth radiating between them, just like that night. John’s fingers entangling in his hair. Sherlock’s hand that would slowly move up John’s thigh....

Sherlock closed his eyes shut and slightly bit his lower lip. Stop thinking that. It is not sane. Why are you even thinking about that? You shouldn’t be imagining yourself with your best and only friend!?

Because it gave him a good, warm feeling inside and awakened a new feeling that came from his gut. He remembered the night in the alley. John’s warm breath against his neck, eventually his lips and his teeth in his skin, his hand grabbing his thigh, his hips rolling up Sherlock’s....

That feeling got an incentive again, which resulted in a little bulge in his pants, which was luckily not visible because he had scooted his legs up against his chest. To be certain, he looked down, which was a mistake. He was safe, yes, but his eyes wandered to Mary and John again, who were tightly pulled against each other. Jealousy ignited in his chest and if looks could kill, they certainly had a corpse in their living room by now. A sudden rage sparked in his chest which caused horrible new thoughts in his head. He knew how to kill, he had done it several times...

No, stop. a voice in his head said. You liked being in a conversation with Mary, you said it yourself just a couple of minutes ago. She isn’t that bad. It didn’t help, because she was ‘not that bad’, she made a worthy rival for John’s attention. There hung an awkward atmosphere in the room, or at least, Sherlock thought so. But what could he do about their cuddling? He could hardly get between them.

I had been silent far too long and far too obviously after the move. Sherlock caught a few words from the programme and decided to start a new conversation. He cleared his throat, shifted in his chair (but he was still safe) and mentioned something about the programme to divert Mary’s attention from John to him.


((Tomorrow and Sunday, I'll be gone to a festival, so don't expect me to post then. Today, I have to prepare, so not much news in this post... more kinda emotional development))

((No problem, I've been busy with work myself, and the emotional development is good))

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Sherlock speaks up about new advances in cloning. John looks up at the sound of Sherlock's voice, and draws in a shocked breath- Sherlock looks terrible all of a sudden. He was fine five minutes ago, but now, out of the blue, he's all drawn up into his chair and looks like he's about to vomit.

"Sherlock, what's wrong?!" John asks, extremely worried. Without even thinking about it, John is instinctively untangling himself from Mary as quickly as he can to go check on Sherlock.

"You look ill. Are you feeling any nausea?"

Sherlock gives a noncommittal grunt. Mary, suspecting why Sherlock is suddenly looking ill- most likely the illness of jealousy- politely excuses herself to go use the loo. Once she's gone, John focuses back in on Sherlock, gently feeling his forehead for a fever.

"Sherlock, tell me what's wrong, I'm really worried. You had no signs of illness at your physical, I don't know where this came from...you should rest. Mary and I can leave so you can sleep, or I can just ask her to go home if you want me here."

John looks closely in Sherlock's eyes.

"Is it something else? Your eyes go glossy and dull when you're sick, they look totally clear now...though there's something off..."

Sherlock says John's name sharply, and John realizes that he had been hovering centimeters away from Sherlock's face, cupping the side of his cheek.

"Oh, right, sorry...got lost in my own deducing there. Um, you were telling me what was wrong? Truthfully, please. I know you don't like admitting something's wrong, but it's not weakness, and if you deny it then we can't fix it, so no hiding. I am your doctor after all," John looks at Sherlock tenderly, "and more importantly your friend. I hate seeing you miserable like this."

John whispers the last confession, as it borders on the 'too sentimental, not appropriate' line, that he and Sherlock have never spoken of, but none the less, both of them rigidly kept it in place. The line was not the same as it was with most of John's friends (it permitted secret smiles across corpses, but not hugs, for example), but the taboo against crossing it was just as strong.

((So I wanted to give them at least a moment to talk, and something to keep things moving. Also seemed totally impossible for John to not pick up on the signs that something is wrong with his Sherlock.))

Sherlock opened his eyes with a shock when he felt John’s hand on his forehead. The feeling of John’s rough digits stroking over his features ignited the weird unfamiliar feeling again, the feeling of warmth and promise. Only John could spark this in him. Irene’s touch had had no effect on him. But thelight touch of John’s fingers could ignite something in him, which had not been there before. It started with their interaction in the alleyway. The first time he had experienced... physical intimacy, as John liked to call it. Since that moment he had had a reaction to John’s touch.

He wanted it to stay, because it felt good.

“No. No, she can’t stay.” He said a little bit too hasty after John had proposed the possibility. He wanted that woman out. Now.

John looked into Sherlock’s eyes, something Sherlock had wanted to avoid. Maybe he could just pretend he was ill, so that John could care for him, but now he saw and felt there was nothing physically wrong with him, that possibility vanished into thin air.
Sherlock held his breath while John came closer and closer and held his cheek. Was John going to kiss him? And what would he do? He could still back his head, but did he want to? To free himself from doubt and insecurity, he hissed John’s name.

He regretted it immediately. John backed and positioned himself, knees bent next to his armchair. Sherlock pushed his legs over the edge and sat normal again.

Sherlock panicked a little when John gave him no opportunity to ignore his ‘illness’. How could he tell John what was really wrong without being too sentimental? It was of a that kind of emotion, that it was embarrassing admitting it. “I er-“ he began, but failed to continue. Sherlock cut their eyecontact and stared at something not-John, in this case: the skull.
He thought about what he felt. He knew the feeling theoretically, but he had not believed jealousy could make you feel so sick. He was jealous of Mary. He was jealous of John’s attention. But that was not all... Sherlock frowned, got up and started pacing through the room.

He was not only jealous of John’s attention, because he got plenty. He was jealous of Mary and how easy John had hinted her for physical contact, not to mention when they actually had curled up next to each other. The way John had smiled when she agreed to come closer, the way he fiddled with her hair. It made him wonder But how could he tell this to John, his best friend? ‘Hey, John, you know I consider feelings as irrational and stupid, but I am jealous of Mary? Oh, don't forget that I want you to touch me, because even the thought of it makes me aroused.’ Yeah, definitely going to work.

The worst part was: Mary was a decent girl. Intelligent, kind and a good match for John. It made him fear for their future together. Together. He couldn’t miss John for the world. He didn’t want to miss him. He feared to be left alone again for someone better. He feared to be lonely forever.

His heart was racing, pumping blood through his veins fiercely, beating against his ribcage. His breath was shallow and fast and uncontrolled. It felt like his throat had resigned doing anything and his stomack felt like it possessed an Olympic weight for lifting. He definitely felt sick. Sick of his own emotions. It was all too much. He thought about faking a faint (which was not that far away from the truth) to avoid answering, but he felt like he had to say something, or else their friendship may be in danger. He stopped in his tracks, first staring at the ground, but then locking with John’s glance.

“Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.

John couldn't help it. He knew he was crossing boundaries, he knew Sherlock didn't want it, he knew his best friend might end up hating him, but he had to do it. He needed to give Sherlock a hug, because he had never before seen someone who so looked like they needed a hug.

John stepped forward and gently wrapped his arms around Sherlock. The physics of it were very awkward at first. John came up to about Sherlock's armpits, and while his arms would be at the perfect height for wrapping around Sherlock's waist and gripping his ass- right now John wasn't thinking of sex at all at the moment, just comforting his friend. He really wanted to rub at Sherlock's back, which was a little hard to do. It didn't help that Sherlock was standing there stiff as a corpse. After a moment though John felt arms tentatively wrapping around him, and Sherlock's chin tucking over his head, and everything was perfect.

"What makes you think I could ever want to leave you?" John whispered into Sherlock's chest.

John stepped back when he heard the toilet flush in the other room, and turned around when Mary walked back into the living room.

"Hey Mary, I'm going to need to ask if we can finish up this date some other time. Sherlock needs some rest, and I need to be with him. Can I call you a cab?"

"That would be appreciated."

John walked into the other room to make the call. Mary turned to Sherlock.

"I'm sorry you feel poorly Sherlock. I'm glad you have John here for you. You're a very lucky man, I hope you realize that. Finding someone like John, well that only happens once in a lifetime. Don't take him for granted, I think you've realized at this point what it would be to lose him."

John comes back in and helps Mary into her coat. She gives him a kiss on the cheek at the door. Out of the corner of his eye, John sees Sherlock go white and grip at the back of his chair during the kiss.

It's almost like he's jealous, or scared by the way I'm acting with Mary. Why? That makes no sense.

Mary leaves, and John decides to take another small risk.

"Rest on the couch, I'm going to make you some tea."

John makes up the tea, then takes his risk- instead of sitting in his own chair, he sits with Sherlock on the couch. As expected, Sherlock had spread out over the whole couch, so John lifted up his friend's head, sat, and then put the head back in his lap. He did this all casually, pretending that it was nothing strange, and ignore the pounding in his chest.

He sat quietly and drank his tea, his hand unconsciously ending up wrapped in Sherlock's hair. It was almost bittersweet, John could imagine spending nights doing this while Sherlock was thinking through cases, or needed something to quiet the ramblings of his mind, possibly resulting in some stolen kisses and falling asleep together on the couch.

Oh well, it makes for a nice dream. I just need to focus on being happy with what I have. Maybe I should tell Sherlock that.

"You know living with you is one of the best things that's ever happened to me, right? This is the happiest I've been in my life. You saved me after Afghanistan, I don't know what would have happened to me if I hadn't met you. Thank you, for choosing me as a flatmate, it's probably been the best lucky chance that I've ever had."

((There, better I hope? I like it better. Warm and fuzzy, bit more logical, gets the important part across I think. Kept the awkward hug, because I liked that part. Also, yes, John still totally has the hots for Sherlock, he's just feeling a bit more 'gently caring and concerned' than horny at that moment))

((Err, I actually don't get it really x) To be honest: I panicked a little at the story. NOO THIS IS NOT GOING ACCORDING PLAN OMG NOOO were roughly my thoughts...Though the story was really good ^^ But... is John still having (slightly) romantic feelings? I didn't get the last part very well...
ALSO: my knowledge of spoken English is not thát great, so please explain what you mean with. 'I might be totally off base' and 'I'd be done'. I want to understand everything to make the rp as sound as possible. Thank you ^^))

((GAH I'm sorry if this spoils it D:))

((No, it's totally fine!!! I posted it really quickly before leaving to run errands. Now that I read it back over, I realize it's a bit confusing and changes the tone of the story. If I hadn't been in a rush, I probably would have done something different. Let me go back through and see if I can edit it so things make more sense!))

((Ok, so still in the same posting-box, but almost a totally re-written!!!))

Instead of calling Sherlock a pussy for showing sentiment , John came up to him and dared to hug him. Sherlock’s heart was pounding of the pressure his emotions had caused. His breath was shaky at first, but calmed down the longer the hug lasted. It lasted long. John pressed his body gently at his, something no one, except from his mum had done in years. It felt good. Very good.

His heart didn’t stop pounding. At first, it was of stress, but now the feelings of fear and faded away, he felt something for John. It was deep friendship, a bond that would not break even if one of them died. He chose to call it ‘physical intimacy’ though it was different from their interaction that night. Eventually, he relaxed more and wrapped his arms around John’s back, holding him tight. He closed his eyes and laid his head on John’s. There, that felt perfect. He wanted to stop the time if he could.

“The way you look at her.” Sherlock whispered back. It hurt a little to admit it. It implicated that he had looked at John, observed him in that way. But the words were out of his mouth before he could think about it.

Mary came back and John pulled himself gently away. Sherlock loosened his grip reluctantly. Jealousy came up a little again when John stated that he wanted to finish up the date an other time.

Sherlock frowned at her words, he saw what she was getting at. He nodded in comprehension. He felt a glimpse of the impact of the loss of John. It hurt.

When she kissed him on the cheek, Sherlock had to grip the back of his seat to steady himself. The worst was that he couldn’t divert his eyes from the scene. He had to watch how John stroked her back fondly while she kissed him. He swallowed hard and composed himself again. Once again, he felt how it would be to loose John.

Then, the coin fell. Mary had done this on purpose! Oh, that cunning woman.

As John said, Sherlock flopped on the couch and confiscated the whole couch. Sherlock lifted up his head in the air and stayed there, frowning at John who laid his head carefully on his lap. In an instant, Sherlock folded his hands under his chin in a prayer gesture, but didn’t close his eyes now. Puzzled, he looked up at John, who was looking thoughtfully in the distance. Was he thinking of that Mary-woman?

Light goosebumps appeared on Sherlock’s arms when John ran his fingers through his curls. Sherlock sighed in delight and closed his eyes. He had supposed physical contact would slow his mind down, but at this level, it only fastened it. Should he ask John to do this while he was working on a case? It would certainly help him finish it. And when he finished it, they would have plenty of time to-

His train of thought was disturbed by John’s musing voice. Luckily, now it turned out that John had not been thinking of his date, but of Sherlock. He smiled and opened his eyes again, listening closely.

Sherlock did not really know what to say. It was the first time that someone told him something so close to his heart. While listening, Sherlock stared up and observed John’s funny nose and his funny lips, forming words of earnest gratitude. Sherlock had the sudden impulse to raise his hand and to lay it on his cheek, lift his head and kiss him on the other cheek, but he held back. Was this something only happened when words failed him? Instead, he shifted, crawling up and sitting/laying with his back on John’s thighs and his shoulders on a pillow. Now the distance of their eyes was smaller and it was more practical to sit. He could stretch his legs up to the side of the couch. Perfect.

He had learned showing his sentimental side paid off in physical actions of fondness, even if it was a hug or lying on John’s lap. Carefully, he began to talk.

“You assume that it is in my nature that I am, as you call it, rude, insensitive, indiscreet and what not. Partly, you are right, partly you are not. You see, before you, there were many flatmates. After secondary school, I moved to London and I got a flatmate. He was a typical student: always drunk in the weekends, brining loud and stupid girls home, never doing anything to improve his mind etc. I wanted to get rid of him, so I began doing all kind of things. That was when I started doing experiments at home, which had been my aim in the first place. He left and there came another. By that time I was pretty well-known in uni, like Sebastian said I could tell who ended up shagging who in the weekends. It didn’t make me popular...” Sherlock paused. “Not that I wanted to be. But none of my classmates wanted to live with me, not even the clever ones. Some tried for a while, but always left me, disgusted and with stories to tell. By that time, I didn’t care about what they thought when I was t doing experiments and all the other things you point me out. They all didn’t last longer than three months. They all left me. They all called me 'freak'...
Then, I needed a break. I lived alone for three years, which was when I started to use cocaine and Lestrade found out about me and my skills. The day I told Mike that I was looking for a flatshare was my last attempt to find a good match, someone who could assist me in any way.” Sherlock paused again, unaware that he had been fiddling with John’s jumper between his fingers and tracing the striped lines. He looked up and sighed. He hated to make confessions, but he felt safe. He looked up.

“ You saved me. You were my last chance of living with someone. Someone decent. Someone like you.”

((Finally. Post. Done. Hah.))
((I wanted to be as canon as possible, which isn't really easy with a pairing. But I figured out that Sherlock would calculate that if he opens up a little, he would get physical attention, as proven before, so I'm pretty content with that solution ^^))
((Shit, now I have 'someone like you' stuck in my head ))

John felt awed at Sherlock's confession, it was the most the man had ever spoken about his feelings to John, and John could not believe the amount of trust Sherlock was putting in him.

"Well in my personal opinion, it seems like all those old flatmates were complete idiots and getting rid of them was the best thing you could do. I mean, getting used to heads in the fridge isn't [i]that[/i] difficult, and if they couldn't see how amazing you are, they weren't worth bothering with."

John gives a cheeky smile and lays a hand on Sherlock's knee.

"In any case, I'm glad to hear that you like living with me, because at this point you'd probably have to threaten me at gunpoint to get me to move out. I'm afraid your unsociable facade has failed you, and I've become quite fond of you."

John looked closely into Sherlock's face, and decided that he couldn't hide any longer, and now seemed like the best possible opportunity for telling Sherlock how he felt. He took a deep breath, and then quickly let his confession spill out, before he lost his nerve. It was awkward and halting, not exactly the smoothest declaration of attraction, but he figured that at least he said it.

"In fact...look, this is going to sound crazy, and chances are we'll both wish I'd just kept my mouth shut, but...well if you ever wanted...something more than just a friendship....between us...well, let me know. I...came to the realization the other day that I would be...amenable to trying out that sort of...arrangement. Oh shit, I'm completely mucking this up, I sound like I'm setting up a business transaction with you!"

John completely lost his nerve and quickly started getting up from the couch to get away before Sherlock started yelling about John going too far with his emotional confession.

"Look, just delete this. I know you're not interested anyways. Damn, you probably hate me for even bringing this up. Don't worry about it, I promise, this is the last you'll hear about it, I won't let these...feelings...mess up what we have. I'm sorry if this will make living together awkward, I promise I can...bury the inclination, so it won't be present anymore. I'll just go now. Sorry."

John walks out the door, forgetting to put on a coat or gloves.

((Yay!!! The words have finally-sort of- been said!!!))
((That song always makes me think of Sherlock, I think it would make a great basis for a post-Reichenbach fic))

Sherlock chuckled an honest smile and looked from under his eyelashes at John. They locked eyes and a sudden, very impulsive thought bubbled up in his mind.

I could fall in love with this man. Sherlock gasped at the thought. He didn’t immediately shoo it away, which was weird, because on what facts was it based? He felt that feeling again. The poets call it butterflies or bubbles in your belly. It felt good and excited and it made him blush like a little schoolgirl. The hand on his knee felt warm and made him blush even harder. It made him wonder how it would feel like if John would slide it upward...
Yes, being in love was definitely an option now.


John’s confession awakened something. In a flash, all the previous uncommon incidents ran through his mind. The night Sherlock had disturbed John’s date and John went upstairs, got drunk and had some vivid sexual dreams about him. Then, that night in the alley. A very practical solution, but also ambiguous. John, ruffling his hair in the morning, greeting him very fondly and then the doctor’s intake... It all made sense now.

“No!” Sherlock blurted out, but gave it a second thought. “No, er, I mean.. no to business, but not no to not- argh.” Sherlock stammered. Gosh this was so unhandy and clumsy. He wasn’t good with words and feelings, but this was very important.

This was something that came just the right moment. If Sherlock hadn’t thought being in love was an option, this indeed would have been very awkward. Instead he felt ... relieved and lucky. Apparently John felt mutual affection, which was more than he could hope for. But it all fell to shatters when John got up and apologised.


Sherlock grunted in frustration “JOHN!” and went after him. Just in time, he grabbed his coat and ran after John, who was running down the stairs and out of the door, not caring to close it. It was snowing outside and it was cold and slippery. They had to be careful, but both of them were not capable to think sane right now. All Sherlock wanted was to get John back and tell him what he felt and that he was very much into his offer.

“John!” Sherlock yelled. John was across the street, making his way over the slippery pavement. Sherlock ran across the street over to John, who was mindlessly walking away. “John! Wait! STOP! I just wanted to say-” Sherlock saw John about to trip over a pile of snow that had once been a snowman. He ran towards him and grabbed him just in time.

John was cold, he just wore the jumper and it was cold and snowy outside. Now the high word had been confessed, Sherlock did what he thought was appropriate. He wrapped his coat around John while wearing it. It was a very beneficial way for both to exchange body heat, but screw that, it was also just because Sherlock wanted John close. Very close.

John struggled out of his grip and Sherlock tried to calm him down by softly lifting his chin to look straight at him. Till now, he had not looked Sherlock in the eye, so this was very important. Sherlock sighed and smiled a crooked smile.

“It’s all fine.” He huffed, astonished of how this evening had developed. John relaxed more against him and Sherlock felt the weird need to kiss John... or something.... Sherlock just felt very unusual, but let it all happen because it felt good.

He hovered. He couldn’t be the one to do it. He had never kissed before. No, Then, you can’t do it, can you? Not his usual approach, but feelings were not his usual area.

((I didn't want Sherlock to do it, and maybe John wanted to talk more?))

John heard Sherlock yelling behind him, but he was so sure that stopping would lead to horror and humiliation, so he kept walking. He kept walking out into the snow, across the icy street, and nearly into a collapsed snowman, until he was finally caught by Sherlock.

Sherlock roughly tugged John against him, and into the warmth of his coat. John tried to tug away, he didn't want Sherlock's pity; he could take care of himself, even if he was a stupid, emotional human. Sherlock wouldn't let go though, he just held him closer and eventually forced John to meet his eye.

Then, John stopped struggling, because what he saw in Sherlock's eyes wasn't pity, disgust, or even mocking amusement. It was pure joy, Sherlock looked as excited as if he had received a call about a triple homicide. There was a touch of nervousness mixed in, but the happiness seemed to be overwhelming it, and John couldn't believe he was the cause of such feelings.

It's all fine. How different those words seemed now.

John reached up and put his hand to Sherlock's cheek. He stood on tiptoe and pressed just the lightest of kisses to Sherlock's lips. What he really wanted to do was just enjoy the moment and finally have the pleasure of snogging Sherlock senseless, but it seemed more prudent to take things slow.

"You're serious? You really want this? You want me?" John asked, still having trouble believing what was happening. It all seemed so unreal, Sherlock chasing after him, and kissing in the snow.

Sherlock nodded, solemnly.

"Ok, lets go back inside then, we can...figure out what this is."

They walked back in, both wrapped up in Sherlock's coat, then sat back down on the couch. Sherlock initially went to sit in his chair, but John yanked him over onto the couch, causing them to lightly tumble together. They eventually settled into a comfortable position.

"Ok, I don't want to seem like I'm ruining the romance of this all, but I do think we should talk through a bit of this. I'm going to assume that this is your first relationship, and your personality seems like you would want a clear idea of what to expect before getting yourself into this."

"If you would like, I can tell you a basic idea of what I would expect to end up changing in our lives."

"Also...and I am sorry for doing this, but I need to hear it- are you doing this because you sincerely want to be romantically involved with me? This isn't an experiment, or a whim? You're not going to get rid of me the first time something about this seems boring or difficult? You're actually committed to this, to us?"

They tumbled on the couch together and Sherlock positioned himself as before: back against the side, his legs on John’s lap and knees slightly bent. A satisfied sigh escaped him when he finally sat and he couldn’t help but smile. John had just kissed him and it had felt great. No sparks, but John had kissed him just very lightly and carefully. He hoped they’d try to turn it up a notch or two.

“You expect me to be in a normal relationship like normal people have... But honestly, you know I’m not normal. By the way: I know the theory. I know how it should work out. I’ve studied it closely for my work. So you don’t have to explain... Really.” He added when he saw John’s questioning expression

“Make a deduction, John.” Sherlock teased, his face in his normal: OBVIOUSLY-one, but ornamented with a playful smile. “Interrupting your dates, getting sick of jealousy, getting hard at the clinic...” He muttered the last one. It was merely a fact, nothing to be secretive about, was it? “The evidence is as clear as day.”

“I lost the term for our relationship a while ago. ‘Friendship didn’t cover it anymore when our interaction in the alley sparked something...” He hated telling how he felt. He hoped this would be one of the last confessions he had to make. He added, more to himself: “something I hadn’t felt before...”

“As for the experimenting...” Sherlock pouted and narrowed his gaze. “It not my first reason to be romantically involved, but of course I need to experiment.” Sherlock was getting impatient. He leaned forward, closer to John’s face and rumbled, not closing his mouth after he was done: “How do I know if I’m good if we don’t try out...”

John decides that the position needs to change a bit. Without warning he tackles Sherlock back into the couch and sits straddling his stomach.

"I don't expect you to be normal, I expect you to be exactly who you are. However, that does not mean you're going to get away with me doing all the work in keeping this together. Being with another person is a two-way deal, you have to give just as much as you get, and I will not stay in this relationship if you only treat me properly when it's convenient to you. I know what you're like, I'm not asking you to change that, but that doesn't mean I'll put my own needs to the side for you."

John leaned closer, trapping Sherlock between the couch and his body.

"As for experimenting, I believe you misunderstood me. You are not EVER permitted to experiment with me emotionally. I'm not going to be your toy. No testing to see how reactions to you flirting with a client would differ before and after sex or some other crazy idea. I will not tolerate being treated differently in this respect to the way you treat me now. This type of experimenting, on the other hand," John ground his hips down into Sherlock to demonstrate what he meant, "you are welcome to do as often as you want. I just ask that you respect if I say I'm uncomfortable with something."

John lines up his body against Sherlock's body, matching groin-to-groin, and leans down so his hips are hovering right above Sherlock's. When he speaks his voice has gotten low and husky.

"What do you think, sound acceptable to you? Should we move on to exploring some of those new feelings of yours? If I'd known how you'd felt at the clinic I would have done a much more thorough inspection of your body," John gives a truly wicked grin, "maybe I can make up for it now."

Sherlock grunted deeply when John hit his sudden move on Sherlock. It made him gasp and his eyes roll back in his head. His eyelids fluttered. Such a massive move can’t be physically ignored.

“Understood.” Sherlock replied husky on both claims, the relationship and the experimenting part. “Captain.” He added cheeky. He always got turned on when John used his Captain Voice.

Sherlock groaned when John was teasing him by hovering above him. Mixed with that voice that talked so dirty and dug up the unmerciful in Sherlock and got him turned on right on the spot. It felt weird because he had not felt horny in a very long time. Now, John was permitted to seduce him, which induced much heavier responses. Oh and that mischievous smile...

“Yes” he breathed heavily, rumbling in a low tone. He brought his hands up and placed one in the nape of John’s neck, the other on his cheek. “Now.” He demanded before crashing John’s lips on his.

John’s lips, in contrary to his hands, felt soft, but behaved rough. John was an experienced tutor and knew where to push, nip, suck. He was a bloody good kisser. It wasn’t long before Sherlock kissed back and took initiative.

In his mind, he made mental notes, (as far as he was able, because John was being very, very distracting). They soon found out what Sherlock liked and what not. He noted that he liked sucking very much, didn’t matter which lip. And nipping too, preferably the lower one. His usual response was moaning or bucking his hips up. He didn't very much like short kisses, but that could be dependant on the mood he was in. And now, he only wanted more and more.

Then, John parted his lips and let his tongue glide over Sherlock’s lip. With high expectations, Sherlock parted them too and let John in. Sherlock at first didn’t know whyt everybody was so enthusiastic about French kissing. It was slippery and wet and weird. But soon he got it. John, again, showed off his skills in turning, stroking and brushing. It was like a dance. Sherlock felt the butterflies dancing wilder in his stomach. It felt amazing.

Sherlock’s thoughts were reduced to very simple, but clear words. Yes. Yes, this feels good. Very good. More. More, now. However, he was not aware that he mumbled them out loud.


((I didn't want Sherlock to be dominant, because I think this is all happening to him, so I didn't proceed very far. I kind of think that is John's job :P))

((That's fine, it makes sense. Could also be fun development for that to eventually come out in him later ))

Sherlock was very eager to pull John into the kiss, but then hesitant once he got John there. It was clear he didn't really know what to do, leaving it up to John to teach him- which was fine, it was actually turning John on a bit to think that he'd finally found an area where he could lead Sherlock for a change.

Oh God, and Sherlock had called him Captain, which had gone straight to his cock, even more so because of the low purr of Sherlock's voice.

They experimented a bit with kissing, finding patterns they liked, memorizing each other's lips. John licked at Sherlock's lips, asking for permission to take the kiss further. Sherlock opened his mouth and John plunged in, mapping out every crevice and corner, stroking and twisting his tongue with Sherlock's.

He needed more, now, and was surprised to hear his own thoughts being echoed by Sherlock. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, he had to make the comment.

"I couldn't agree with your sentiment more, but you do realize you're doing that out loud? Granted, in my case, that is what people usually say," and he leaned down to deliver a sharp nip to Sherlock's neck.

He then went to work popping open the buttons on Sherlock's shirt, kissing and sucking along the newly exposed skin as he went down. He went to work lavishing attention onto Sherlock's belly button, licking at it and thrusting his tongue in, then moved back up again to Sherlock's nipples as he peeled the shirt off the lanky man.

Sherlock was about to say something, but John cut him off by biting down on a pert brown nipple, causing Sherlock's back to arch off the couch and moan.

"Sorry," he said, clearly not being at all sincere, "were you about to say something? I didn't catch it."

((So yeah, John's being a total tease, feel free to have Sherlock get back at him, if he can work up the coherency to do so.))

Sherlock scoffed in reply to John's childish remark, which transformed into a groan. John was enthusiastically nipping at his flesh, which lead down and down his chest. He never knew his belly button would be so sensitive. It felt like John was fucking him with his tongue. Sherlock gasped and contracted his belly muscles, which had an effect on his bulge.

Sherlock ran his hand through John's blonde hair and gripped it tightly when John. He clenched his teeth and moaned loudly. Nipples. Sherlock cursed John's tongue and teeth to hell. His actions went straight to his cock and he jolted upward, grinding into John's lap. Sherlock was getting hard very rapidly. He had not experienced these incentives before and he was desperate for John's touch.

Sherlock's thoughts were very incoherent, but one thought became clearer. John was teasing him senselessly, which Sherlock was going to punish.

"I was saying-" He growled beastly. "That when we go to Scotland Yard tomorrow, they will even notice how gay you are." and he bit down John's lean neck. He sucked and licked the delicate skin until it was flushed red. That would make a very nice mark tomorrow, he thought satisfied. He couldn't wait what Anderson would say.

Jumper. Off. Now. was all Sherlock could think. He slipped his hand under john's jumper and stroked teasingly with his index finger up and down John's patch of hair, leading form his navel to the beneath his trousers. With the other hand, he grabbed John's ass and pulled him closer on top of him, while grinding upward with a grunt.

He clenched the hem of John's jumper and pulled it over his head. For a moment, cold air stroked their bodies, before they hungrily landed on each other again. He brought his hand up and stroked John's chest, his nipples going hard. Sherlock pinched them, which made John wince. Sherlock grinned mischievously and rumbled in John's ear: "Screaming for mercy already, Captain?"

Holy shit Sherlock was a fast learner, which John found to be both fantastic and horrible. He was actually going to have a hicky tomorrow, something John hadn't experienced since he was a teenager- that was both embarrassing and sexy as hell.

"What-" John's words were cut off in a groan as Sherlock started stroking at the hair beneath his jumper, "What makes you think we're going to the Yard? I was starting to make plans for keeping you tied down in bed all day."

John suddenly found himself divested of his jumper and gasped at the first contact of skin-on-skin with Sherlock. Amazing. Absolutely fucking amazing. Maybe he would go through with that comment of keeping Sherlock tied down in his bed.

Then Sherlock pinched him and John might have let out a rather high-pitched groan. It was not a scream, and definitely not a scream for mercy.

"Cheeky bastard," John grunted, pushing Sherlock off, "You're going to be the one screaming for mercy, and if you keep up the sass you'll get none from me."

With that John firmly cupped the bulge showing in Sherlock's trousers and began to rub up and down at a tortuously slow pace. John himself felt like he was about to burst if he didn't loosen the pressure on his cock, but he was so entranced by the sounds Sherlock was making he couldn't manage to focus enough to undo his fly. He finally gave up and just leaned forward, rubbing himself up against Sherlock.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look right now? It should be illegal to see you like this, it's almost indecent. I could probably get off just looking at you. Also, those noises you're making, they're pure sin. Every moan, every gasp, they're all going straight to my cock, every one is making me harder. There's a chance you might kill me with sheer pleasure Sherlock, and if you do that before I get off, I will come back from the dead to then kill you for doing so."

John realized he was probably babbling nonsense, but he couldn't seem to help it.

((This is my narrative excuse for the fact that this is my first time trying to write out sex talk, so it is probably horrible! Sorry!))

((Oh, it is alright! I regard Sherlock as an intelligent person who likes talking, so that will turn him on. I added a surprise, which will have effect on John's state lol))

Sherlock couldn't. He couldn't do anything because his senses were completely overloaded with data. John's smell surrounding him, John's taste on his lips, John's voice whispering very dirty things, John's fingers stroking up and down his body. It was all almost too much for him, it almost knocked him out. When John lowered his hands to rub Sherlock's bulge and started to whisper his plans in his ear, he threw his head back and pressed a deep groan over his lips. John's lusty words had an immediate effect and it hurt against his trousers. Forget the Yard, being tied up sounded much more tempting and much more fun.

"You are - ah... - killing-moi .... He moaned. He slipped briefly in French. He had no control over his body and mind. As it was his first time being involved with someone, he didn't mind. It was just all too much to be very physically active and give John what he deserved. He let his hands rest on John's back, scratching and grabbing it when he felt the heat bubbling up so high. The only thing Sherlock could do to please John was talk.

"Touch- Touche-moi, Jean." He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned again when John pressed his own length against him. "Je ne pas... last much- plus longtemps" He breathed heavily. He was practically begging John to finally touch him. John had been such a tease, but all Sherlock could do, was undergo it, because he wasn't able to think straight.

Then, finally, John pushed his pants down, letting his cock breath, but he didn't touch it yet. John made his personal mission to avoid his manhood as long as possible, making Sherlock go 'hnnnnnnnn, Je t'en prie, please."

He thought he never wanted something more than John right now. This felt wonderful, amazing, it itched, but the only way it would go away was by release, which wasn't very far away.

"-Ah Mon Dieu, Jean Oui, oh yes!... Oh, sacrebleu. Cela fait du bien." he growled from the deepest hollows of his lungs when John FINALLY touched him. Sherlock opened his eyes wide, his mouth in a perfect o, gasping for air. He thought he saw stars for a moment, , which a very little voice in the back of his mind announced that that was very illogical and impossible blah blah blah, but that voice was soon dismissed when John started to move his hand...

((TRANSLATIONS:))
((Touch me John. ))
((I don't last much, much longer.))
((hnnnn, I beg you, please.))
((Ah, My God, John. Yes, oh yes. Oh damn. This feels good.))

((Sherlock, seriously, can't pull himself together for much longer. I didn't expect full sex, really as this is the first time and such... I hope this is okay!))

((Oh God, I am SUCH a sucker for French!!! Yeah, that will totally do John in))

French. Sherlock was speaking French. Sherlock was moaning and begging in French, and it was the fucking sexiest thing John had ever heard in his life.

Forget plans to tease Sherlock, John could not resist that voice, and those words. He couldn't understand a word of French, but he knew what Sherlock was begging for, and he could no longer deny it to the man. In fact, it would be amazing if he himself made it through finishing off Sherlock.

He pulled down Sherlock's trousers and pants, then started stroking and kissing at Sherlock's thighs, avoiding his flushed cock. The French continued, impossibly managing to get even more desperate sounding. He finally gave in (not that it was really a sacrifice for him, finally getting to do this to Sherlock. It was what he had be craving to do for days now).

"Come on, let go. God you're amazing, I can't believe I get to do this- touch you like this, see you looking like this, hear those moans. I can't believe you chose me, that I got that lucky. Christ, if I'd known how fucking sexy you were a few months ago, I would have let Mycroft pull off that bloody sheet in the palace. If I'd known what I was missing out on...I would have pushed you up against one of the Queen's couches and had you right there in the palace."

He stroked Sherlock, quickly building up to a fast pace as Sherlock began to tremble and his moans grew in volume. The French dissolved into gasps and groans, and John leaned in to kiss Sherlock roughly as he felt the man's climax approaching.

((So yeah, figure you can finish this scene off and then finish John off as well?))

Sherlock was glad his French had its prospected impact.
John's words filled his head with fantasies. The next time they were in somewhere 'public', they would definitely do that.

John's lips burned on his thighs, as did his hands when they finally closed on him. He arched his back and touched John's chest, which burned even more. "Je suis en feu!" were the last sane words he could formulate. They soon transformed into less syllabic tones, mostly containing the letters a, m and o. A very powerful feeling nestled in his groin, building up rapidly.

John's hand and lips were magical. They knew where to grip, they knew where to squeeze and press and when Sherlock thought he couldn't get any better, he twirled a curve on both his cock and lips

That was the last Sherlock could have. He ejaculated fiercely as if he had never had an orgasm before. He jolted into John's hand and gripped his hair tightly. He rode out his first orgasm caused by someone else, accompanied with a low grunt in John's mouth. He gasped and panted as shivers ran down his spine. His eyes fluttered and everything was beautiful. He muttered a stream of French swear words and words of praising in John's ear.

Wow, that had felt amazing! He understood what John meant with 'desire for physical intimacy'. It felt wonderful and beautiful and everything at the same time.

He panted briefly, before the sane part of his mind reminded him kindly that a beautiful John was having a hard, beautiful bulge, having trouble to break free. Through the red fabric of his pants, he saw the precum leaking. Still panting and trembling, he quickly scooted his hand down to John's pants and pulled them down. His full hard cock jumped out, desperate to be touched.

Sherlock smirked, he hadn't lost that much of his personality because of the orgasm, and reached down, tracing the tip of his index finger down John's own length. "Comme ça?" He purred.

((YES right on the spot! I love French too, so I made a headcanon: Sherlock lived in France for a while, childhood perhaps. Comme ça means: Like this?))

((That's so funny that we both do that. I've always had it so that Sherlock speaking French is one of John's biggest weaknesses. If he hears Sherlock say anything in French he gets helplessly turned on and can't think about anything else. You are totally welcome to use this against him))

Sherlock orgasming was the most beautiful sight John had ever seen, and he was barely able to focus on pumping him through it he was so busy watching.

By the time John finished his need for release was painful and John could hardly even think. He moaned thankfully when Sherlock finally pulled down his pants, then growled at the teasing touch.

"If you're not going to help--" he grunted, shoving Sherlock's hand away to give some desperately needed strokes. He tried to pull himself together enough to finish the sentence, "bugger off so I can finish myself. I can't handle teasing right now."

He moaned at the touch of his own hand, which then turned into a high-pitched keen when Sherlock roughly shoved his hand away (giving him a very indignant look) and took over the pumping. John only lasted for a minute before he too was falling over the edge. He screamed out Sherlock's name as his vision went fuzzy around the edges and hot sparks flew up and down his spine.

He finally came down back to earth and looked over at Sherlock with a smile. He knew he probably looked idiotic with his happy grin, but he couldn't help it. He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Sherlock's lips, then flopped over onto his new lover's chest for a (somewhat sticky) cuddle.

((Oh I totally see Sherlock using it against him. Captain voice against French!Sherlock... gawd, shouldn't be legal.))

John liked it rough. Fine. John would get rough. Sherlock slapped John's hand away, because, obviously it was his job to finish John. It was also obviously fair of him to tease John for a little bit longer, but he gave in. He grabbed John and started quick paced pumping him. "Permettez-moi de faire cela." he growled in disbelief that John wouldn't let him do this.

Sherlock filled his John Room with John's facial expressions of lust and pleasure which flashed over his face. It was beautiful and mesmerising. God, from that face alone, we could get hard again.

Those noises. Oh wow, those noises John made were simply hot as hell. When John screamed out his name, Sherlock lost it and kissed him deep while John came on his hand. Sherlock didn't mind. All what mattered was John.

John looked all sexed up. Shirtless, trousers and pants pulled down, cum on his belly and his hair all spikey, he smiled the most beautiful smile someone could give. His eyes shone of bliss and pride that he had done this to Sherlock Holmes, the emotionless virgin.

John collapsed on top of him, Sherlock grunted by the weight, but it was a very comforting weight to bear. He closed his arms around John and tucked him under his chin. He sighed a happy sigh.

"Merci- er. Thank you, I mean."

He felt like never before. Happy, he guessed and still weary of the exciting orgasm he had just ridden out. Their bellies stuck a little and they were very sticky of sweat all over. Maybe they should pop under the shower together later...

((Little bit short, not much added story... I'm off tomorrow again to another festival, so I can't guarantee a reply... sorry!))
((Translation: let me do that ;)))

((No problem, I'll be busy- have to do all my back to university shopping))

John feels himself starting to dose off, it had actually gotten rather late and was about time for bed.

"Ugh," John peeled himself up off Sherlock, wrinkling his nose at the sticky mess on his chest, "we should rinse off before bed."

He caught the glint in Sherlock's eyes.

"Not a chance, I'm exhausted and want to sleep."

Sherlock scowled, but it didn't quite hide the disappointed pout from his face. John leans in for a sweet kiss, cupping Sherlock's face.

"Can I make you a deal, Lock? I'm only going to rinse this mess off me before bed, not take a whole shower. Then tomorrow morning we can shower together and stay in there as long as you like," John kisses gently around Sherlock's face, "Sound fair?"

Sherlock agrees, and John starts to disentangle himself, a process which Sherlock delays a bit. Eventually, after cleaning himself up a bit, John comes back out to the living room and stands before the couch, looking nervous. He glances up to see if Sherlock is paying attention, then looks back down at his feet.

"Umm...I was wondering if you would like to...come to bed with me, just, just to sleep, but if you're...amenable to that...I would very much like to...have you there."

By the time he's done talking John's face is entirely red, and he keeps his eyes on his feet as he waits for Sherlock's answer.

((Put off the shower to keep time moving a bit more, and give me more I could work with on my own. Also, hopefully this can then lead to sleepy kisses and an eventual fluffy morning scene. Tried to give you spots to fill in as you see fit))

Sherlock tidied himself up just enough when John was in the shower. When he came back, he looked nervous and uncomfortable, which made no sense to Sherlock. What he asked made even less sense to him. I mean, they had just made each other come, they had been living a long time together and John had been so keen on discussing how a relationship works so, just sleeping next to each other wouldn’t be such a deal for Sherlock.

John’s face turned red and he stared shyly at the ground. Sherlock got up and bowed down, first very briefly rubbing his nose against John’s, then pulling him up into a gentle kiss. He brought his hand up to the nape of John’s neck and pulled him closer. Eventually, he let go.

“But of course." He stated in his -obviously- voice. "It is what normal people with normal relationships do, don’t they? Now, chop chop-“ He hit John friendly on his arse before walking towards his bedroom. “Get in my bedroom, I’m going to rinse too.”

He retrieved a grey V-neck t-shirt, his blue pyjama bottoms and a new pair of pants from his closet and went into the bathroom. He cleaned himself good enough and dressed himself. He actually wanted to sleep shirtless, but as John wanted to sleep, he thought he’d be kind for once .

John lay under the covers on his side, facing the bathroom door. He looked peaceful, with a happy grin on his face. It was a handsome sight to stumble upon. He shifted around while Sherlock walked around the bed to climb into the other side. John also wore a V-neck, which suited him well. It spanned nicely over his still muscular chest which Sherlock had now the permission to caress. He got in and pulled the blanket up under his armpits. The second he was tucked, John shuffled closer and laid an arm around Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock did the same, but held one arm on John’s chest. For an uncountable amount of time, they just lied there, staring at each other with dozing lids and blissful smiles on their faces.

John’s cute nose just screamed for being kissed and eventually, Sherlock reached forward and pressed his lips on the tip of his nose. To his surprise, he got a kiss on his cheek back, which he returned with one on John’s eyelids. John kissed back on his temple. Now Sherlock became inpatient and gave him a good kiss on his lips. It was without tongue, but still passionate.

After that long kiss, John declared sleepy that he wanted to sleep. Reluctantly, he turned around with his back facing Sherlock. But Sherlock was not letting him go so easily. Sherlock closed his arms around his waist and pulled him closer to his chest. John protested hazily, but he didn’t need to worry. Sherlock was sleepy too. He hummed in response and to shush John. He pressed a few sleepy kisses on John’s neck before sleep took over him.

Sherlock woke up by soft lips brushing lightly along his jawline. Sherlock sensed a body nearby, their heat was radiating underneath the blanket. John’s arm was actually draped over Sherlock’s chest. He was lying on his back, head up, facing the ceiling. He didn’t open his eyes just yet, he enjoyed the sweet, gentle senses far too much. Through his eyelids, he could see that it was morning, the sun was shining through the curtained window.

The kisses shifted up his temple and down his neck until John reached the point of his neck where his pulse was best sensible. Then was the point when John sensed his heart rate had sped up. Sherlock’s heart did funny things when John kissed him. It made his stomach flutter and his pulse quicken. He felt John’s lips purse in a smile. Then his lips lost connection with Sherlock’s skin and Sherlock had to open his eyes. The first thing he saw was John, smiling brightly.

“Good Morning” he said softly.

“Good Morning” he croaked back.

John huffed, which broke into a smile. Sherlock smiled back. He couldn’t imagine a moment in which he would become happier than this moment.

“So, what do you want to do today? I have to work late shi-“ John started, but Sherlock stopped him by grabbing a handful of shirt and pulled John in a passionate kiss. The answer was clear and Sherlock was sure John wanted it too. First, they just pressed their lips together, but soon the kiss got rougher, waking them up properly. Nipping and sucking lips had an immediate effect on Sherlock’s physique, even though it was early in the morning.

Sherlock rested his other hand on John’s back, stroking up and down over his shirt. But soon he slipped his hand under John’s shirt, to feel his flushed, soft skin again. It felt amazing to feel it again.


((Good 'nuf? Can you work with this?))

((Oh, that's so sweet! I can't stop grinning :) ))

So apparently Sherlock did not think it was a big deal to sleep together, which John supposed wasn't very surprising. Well, it seemed logical to just go along with it and not worry over the fact that they gave the thing different levels of importance. The sweet kiss Sherlock gave him also helped to convince John to just relax.

John jumped a bit at the light smack Sherlock delivered to his ass- that was completely unexpected. He had never imagined Sherlock being flirty with him like that, and he found that he really liked the idea. That coupled with Sherlock ordering him to the bedroom almost made John reconsider the whole 'going to sleep' idea, but then a long yawn brought him back to his senses.

When Sherlock finally came to bed they had a nice long period of cuddling and trading sleepy kisses, which made John feel warm and adored. A day ago he would have never dreamed of Sherlock being affectionate like this, now he couldn't believe that in all the time he had lived with the man he never noticed this side of him. Finally they both drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in each other's arms.

---

John woke up to cold toes. This was strange, considering the whole top half of his body felt extremely warm. He tried to ignore this temperature imbalance and drift back to sleep, but he couldn't, so he leaned his head up to see what the problem was. His top half was warm because he had apparently slept draped over Sherlock all night, which was a pleasant surprise. His feet were cold because Sherlock was apparently a cover thief, and wrapped the bottoms of all the blankets around his feet during the night, leaving John with none. John smiled fondly down at Sherlock, who looked absolutely beautiful, sleeping peacefully with the pale morning sun shining over his face. John leaned over and started to gently trail kisses along Sherlock's jaw- it was his favorite way to be woken up, and he wanted to do this for Sherlock. He noticed when Sherlock's breathing pattern changed, but the man seemed happy to just lay there enjoying the feeling of John's kisses. John pulled away and smiled down at Sherlock until he awoke.

He laughed lightly at the sound of the normally smooth voice roughened by sleep. He started to ask what Sherlock wanted to do with the day, vague ideas of breakfast in bed forming in his mind, when he was grabbed by Sherlock and pulled into a kiss. Apparently the man had plans of his own for the morning, which John was perfectly happy to go along with.

John groaned at the feeling of Sherlock stroking his chest under his t-shirt, and he slipped his own hand up the back of Sherlock's. He let the hand trail slowly down Sherlock's back until it reached the waistband of his pants, then slipped it in to squeeze a handful of Sherlock's ass.

He then playfully pulled his lips away from Sherlock and smiled teasingly at the man while still gripping his ass, "What, no tea and breakfast first? You just expect that the first thing I do in the mornings now is satisfy your sexual whims? I thought we were going to go out and read the paper, or maybe go to the Yard."

He let his hand wander around Sherlock's waist so that it was now stroking the inside crook of his thigh, just in case Sherlock didn't get the joke and started to have any crazy ideas about going to work.

((Yeah, I think that worked pretty well. John certainly seems to like the way the story is going))