Denial (John/Sherlock)

Sherlock was completely taken aback by John's reaction. Did he just use the word 'boyfriend'? He wasn't sure he'd heard right but even so he felt his heart to a somersault at the thought, and he instintively pulled his shoulder away from the girl's grasp, who was also looking quite shocked at his flatmate's jealousy.

"Are you two like...gay?" she said with disgust. "Ugh...no wonder you wanted to do me up the arse." And with that she slapped Sherlock right across the face and pushed past him to the staircase.

"Don't bother calling!" she shouted as she ran down the steps.
"I don't even know your name!" Sherlock replied and headed to the doorway, removing his phone from his pocket and flicking through. "Which one are you?"

But the girl had already gone, slamming the door of 221B behind her. Sherlock turned back to John who was looking rather furious and red in the face. He shrugged, not quite knowing what to say.

John was glaring at Sherlock now. His anger boiling visibly in his eyes. "Which one are you?" he hissed, and stomped closer. "Did you make it a point to pick up the dullest of those girls, or was it just that you liked the idea of fucking someone as stupid as me?"

He couldn't think, jealousy talking for him.

"How many bloody girls did you sleep with, Sherlock? Am I to expect a line of broken hearts out of our apartment's door?"

Sherlock bit his bottom lip and looked at the floor guiltily. "You're not stupid John..." he muttered in reply. "I wouldn't tolerate you if you were. Those girls...uh...intelligence doesn't exactly matter when you're...when you're..." He struggled for the correct word, not wanting to say something rude or undelicate.

Realising his explanation was inadequate, he handed John his phone, still open on the phone book which now contained quite a collection of female phone numbers.

"Here," he mumbled, "See for yourself," and he went to stand at the window, watching the girl cross the road and mingle into the throng of people now walking up and down Baker Street on their way to work.

John's anger only seemed to flare up stronger when Sherlock didn't even really try to defend himself. He took the phone angrily, his eyes moving down over all those names.

"Have you fucked the whole of London before thinking you could come to me?" he hissed, his hand clenching around the phone, he wanted to throw it to the wall, he wanted those names to disappear.

He couldn't believe the amount of skin Sherlock had touched, had kissed... and what about him? Was he just another name on a list?

"No John," Sherlock sighed, "of course I haven't fucked the whole of London, that would be impossible. I wanted you. I didn't think you'd be interested."

He turned round from the window to face his flatmate, glancing his eyes up and down across his body and making a swift deduction.

"You're jealous," he stated. "You don't like the idea of me having anyone else, of anyone else having me."

John started at the words, his cheeks burning red. Of course Sherlock would know, but he hated it when he turned so cold in his deductions, it felt like last night hadn't happened at all.

"Well, aren't you a bloody genius," he snapped, and turned on his heels, fleeing to his room in a haze of anger he couldn't control.
He couldn't believe himself for being so weak, so unreasonable, but Sherlock hadn't exactly been reassuring either.

Sherlock frowned. He'd witnessed this kind of behaviour before. He knew John's outburst meant he was angry. And the expected next move from Sherlock's point of view would be to knock on John's door, ask if he was all right and...would apologising be the correct thing to do?

Sherlock collapsed into his armchair and adopted his favourite thinking position to ponder over the options. John was jealous and upset. This means he wanted Sherlock...all to himself, he didn't want to share him with anyone, and the fact that Sherlock had had previous lovers was displeasing to him. Just like the idea of John's girlfriends displeased Sherlock. It made sense. Suddenly he had his answer. Sherlock would love for John to apologise for every single girlfriend he ever had, so it was only fair that John probably wanted Sherlock to apologise for his girlfriends.

He got up from the chair and went to knock on the door of John's room.
"John...can I come in?"

John had a few minutes to unwind, he started berating himself for losing his temper, but some part of him just wouldn't reason.
He felt hurt.
Even though he had no right to be jealous considering he was still officially engaged to Mary.
Damn, he needed to call Mary.

He stiffened when he heard the knock.
"Fine, yes, alright," he mumbled, looking at the door from his spot by the window. He couldn't help but wonder what Sherlock wanted to say.

Sherlock opened the door and stood awkwardly half in and half out of the room. John's body still looked tense and there was a distinct atmosphere between them. Sherlock knew he had to make this right somehow.

"Umm...." he began cautiously, not good with apologies. "I'm err...I'm sorry that happened." He held up his mobile phone. "I'm going to delete every one of these and...and if...if I can...if I can have you then I promise I'll never have anyone else again."

If I can have you then I promise I'll never have anyone else again

John's heart ended up beating in his throat, the words echoing in his ears, in his chest, was Sherlock really ready to make such a promise?

He turned around, looking at the detective, the way he was shy with this new situation. It spoke volumes of what he felt, but it still wasn't enough to calm John completely.

"Will you, really?" he muttered, biting on his lower lip. "Or will you do like this time? Sneaking away and creating a list? Lying to me..." Because Sherlock could fool him so well if he wanted, he could use him and throw him away and John would just... accept it.

Sherlock turned to look at the wall and rubbed the back of his neck, uncomfortable with John's intense gaze, with the level of emotion rattling round the room.

"I...I wouldn't do that, I swear." he stammered quickly, hoping it would be enough. He could feel a now familiar aching sensation in his chest.

"Please...?" Sherlock turned and looked into John's eyes, the pain almost too much to bear. He needed him.

John couldn't stand to see Sherlock's eyes dark with pain and worry, and he knew the detective was making an effort not to turn away.

He felt his anger slowly slip away, leaving only guilt in his chest.

He walked closer, fingers tracing down Sherlock's arms. "I've never been jealous of anyone before," he muttered, bowing his head a bit. "I have never wanted anyone for my own so much... I am not going to share you with anyone, Sherlock..."

Sherlock shivered at John's touch, turning to face him fully, the tension and hurt in his chest beginning to melt away slowly. All he needed was that extra reassurance.

He wrapped his arms round John and pulled him close for a hug, treasuring the warmth of his body. "I...I...I love...you...I love you John." he stammered, screwing up his eyes to stop tears from forming and cursing his emotions.

He buried his face in the other's neck, arms squeezing him softly. His heart was beating fast in his chest, /still/ beating fast in his chest, could it really be possible that Sherlock chose him?

His hand slid into the other's hair, massaging the scalp. "I thought you didn't do feelings..." He teased him softly, his eyes filled with affection.

"I don't," Sherlock laughed. "Please don't tell anyone....wouldn't want to ruin my reputation..."

He kissed the top of John's head carefully, then pulled back, letting go. He looked at the phone in his hand and began to methodically go through the numbers, deleting them one by one.

"None of them meant anything to me..." he explained. "They were just...an outlet. I won't need it again."

John laughed a bit at that, "I will make sure you won't," he muttered, his voice a bit lower than he expected, apparently flirting with Sherlock had already become familiar.

He was glad the gloomy atmosphere had lifted somehow. He slowly realized what he had done though, what he had said.
"Sherlock... I..." he looked at him as he deleted the numbers. "I am sorry... you know... for making a scene... and saying those things to her..." he said, rather embarrassed.

"I just... I was seeing red..." he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling a lot like a child.

Sherlock nodded. "It was fine. Honestly." He began to chuckle as he remembered John's explosive reaction. "Actually it was....hilarious. I quite liked it. She was compelely interlorable anyway."

He held up the phone to John. "There," he stated with some pride. "Back to normal." He flicked through and showed John the four numbers left in his phone - John, Lestrade, Molly, Mycroft.

"No one's...no one's ever been jealous with me before..." he added thoughtfully. "It was quite...interesting."

"Hilarious?" he repeated and then laughed, squeezing Sherlock closer, burying his head in his neck for a moment. "I assure you we risked a lot... I wanted to slap her..." he muttered, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"I have a feeling you will make me feel jealous a lot," he added, and bit his shoulder this time. "I would like to remind you I own a gun, and I hardly hesitate to use it... so if you don't want me to end up in prison... you should be careful..."

Sherlock jumped a little as John's teeth connected with his shoulder, but it was a pleasant type of pain. The type of pain he could get used to, he reasoned.

Sherlock moaned at John's words, his aggressive talk was quite the turn on. In his mind he visualised himself pushing John onto the bed and taking him violently. He smirked at the idea and felt a twitch in his pants, but he knew he couldn't expect too much too soon.

Instead he carefully pulled back from the hug. "I'll put the kettle on," he suggested. "If you're lucky I may even manage to put some bread in the toaster. You hungry?"

John hadn't exactly thought Sherlock would moan at his words, but he decided he liked the reaction quite a bit. It made him want to continue talking, to explore what he could make Sherlock feel.

He pouted when the taller man pulled away, he still wanted to play, he thought, but his stomach grumbled at the idea of a toast.
"Don't set the kitchen on fire... but yes, I would like that... I will just... call Mary in the meantime..."

Sherlock pottered through into the kitchen, retying his dressing gown. He filled up the kettle with water and flicked it on, then searched around for a couple of clean mugs, a rather more daunting task than he had initially imagined. No wonder John always made the tea, he thought to himself. It was bloody hard work. After locating the mugs, he grabbed the bread and put a couple of slices in the toaster.

Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil Sherlock became bored and went into the living room instead. He sat down at the table and opened up his laptop to check his emails. He glanced over his shoulder guiltily as he remembered he had a load of e-mails off various one night stands too. He began to delete them one by one.

John came back to the living room looking quite pale, the call had been rather quick, but intense. Mary was not happy, John had tried not to discuss things on the phone, but she had snapped as soon as he mentioned the 'we need to talk' part.

"I am meeting her after breakfast..." he said, sitting down at the table, feeling rather exhausted already. "Do you think I should mention... us?" he asked, motioning in between them.

Sherlock jumped when he heard John arrive behind him and quickly slammed down the lid of his laptop. He was so used to being secretive he found it came quite naturally to him, but now he decided he didn't really like it anymore. He wanted to be open and honest with John, to have no more secrets between them.

"I realised I had some of those girls email addresses," he explained, indicating the laptop. "Just been deleting them."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to tell her everything about us just yet," he answered thoughtfully, then added with a grin. "Especially not the part where I fucked you on the kitchen table."

John's eyebrow shot up at Sherlock's suspicious behavior, but he didn't comment on it, accepting his explanation. "I hope you won't regret deleting them any time soon," he muttered, trying to look for the promised tea.

He blushed furiously at the mention of what had happened the night before, instinctively he looked at the table, the broken dishes still on the floor. "Erm... I wasn't planning to tell her that, believe me," he commented, and laughed a bit, his voice dying away as he remembered just how Sherlock had felt the day before, buried deep inside him. "Mm... but... we should do it again..." he said casually, looking outside the window.

Sherlock grinned, spinning round from the computer and squeezing John's knee. "I can't wait...to do it again...but um...you should probably rest...I wouldn't want to..." he coughed, "...y'know...hurt you."

He stood up quickly, a little embarrassed. "Anyway, I put the kettle on...almost made it with the mugs. And the toast should be done." He headed towards the kitchen to check.