A/N:Hello everyone! Happy Valentine's Day! And if you're single, Happy Love Day! (It's from Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood and it's about all kinds of love. I have toddler, can you tell?)
This is the perfect day for some Johnlock lovin' and we all need that.
This is a gift Mssmithlove who encouraged me to write this. And if someone can tell me how to, I'll put in the two pictures I sent her with Sherlock in the first two outfits.
A shout out to my tireless beta, Old Ping Hai, who helped me edit this last minute when I got sick and took me forever to get it done.
Thanks to my husband who helped with Sherlock's date outfit when I was beating my head on the wall when I couldn't come up with something that topped the first two outfits.
John was running late to his first chemistry tutoring. He was covered in sweat and grass, still in his rugby uniform because those two arseholes Moran and Small had pissed off their coach so badly that he made the whole team stay late. All John had time for afterwards was to grab his bag and dash all the way from the rugby pitch to the chemistry lab.
John was panting for breath when he burst through door and nearly yelled, "Sorry I'm late!" He skidded to a stop. Whatever breath he had left deserted him. Leaning against the professor's desk was this ethereal creature.
He was tall, his long legs clad in the tightest leather trousers John had ever seen. The trousers laced up the side with red silk ribbon, leaving a stripe of exposed flesh. He was wearing high-heeled, suede, knee-high boots. John's eyes trailed up this creature's body, noting the sheer, mesh, black shirt and the pierced nipples. He continued his gaze up the long column of his neck to the Cupid bow lips, the bottom one sporting two ring piecings on both sides. His eyes were impossible to describe as he couldn't decide if they were grey, green, blue or a combination thereof. He had a bar piercing on his left eyebrow, and on the left side of his head, his dark curls were completely shaved. Etched into the hair was the molecular structure of honey.
"Don't let it happen again," the creature said, standing up, giving John an even better look of the man's body. John's knees went weak at the sound of this man's voice. It was liquid sex and velvet...John nodded.
"Good," the man, said walking up to John. "I don't need to stress the importance of this. I know your scholarship is riding on you passing the class, and you know that even your status as a rugby star would not be enough for the school to allow you to stay. You would end up having to quit medical school."
John looked around. "Did–did Prof. Weston tell you about me?"
"No. I saw it," he replied.
"Really?" John asked, incredulous.
"Yes, the rugby is obvious, you're standing in front of me in your rugby kit. The scholarship is evident in the fact that while the bag and ball are new, you are wearing old cleats. You have a new pair in the bag, but you aren't wearing them, why? Could be that the old ones are your 'lucky' pair, but you don't strike me as superstitious. So that means that you don't dare to. If you wear them during practice and they get ruined, you couldn't afford another pair. But you go to school here, scholarship, clearly. Now the medical school was a little tricky. There are several fields that require chemistry. But sticking out of your bag is an anatomy book with a syllabus for Prof Gretna's class for genetics. Combine the three and you get medical student."
"That was brilliant," John breathed.
The man blinked. "Really? That's not what people normally say."
"What do they normally say?" John asked, pulling his head back in confusion.
"'Piss off'," the man replied.
John laughed. He held out his hand, "John Watson."
"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock replied.
John's eyes went wide. "Wait, I've heard of you. Professors hate you."
"And yet, here you are," Sherlock said with a wink.
John laughed again. "Fair enough. And for the record, I'd cut rugby if I had to. I need to pass this class."
"Let's get started, then," Sherlock said, indicating that John should sit at one of the nearby tables.
John's libido fought with his brain over what he should be paying attention to. His brain knew that he had to listen to what Sherlock was teaching, otherwise this would be a complete cock-up. His libido was firmly telling his brain to just let the rich baritone wash over him and let his lizard brain take over. John's brain won, but barely.
As John was putting away his chemistry book, Sherlock said, "Remember, John. Don't be late. I don't have time to be waiting around for you."
John nodded, afraid to speak lest his voice crack. He didn't have the intention to be late again before he met his tutor. But now that he had, he would be early even if it killed him.
As Sherlock walked out, John got a great view of that gorgeous arse. He tilted his head to the side and when the door swung shut, he groaned out loud. He was so screwed. And not the way he wanted.
Sherlock was destroying his closet. He was searching for the perfect outfit. Last week he had dressed in a such a way to frighten the wholesome John Watson. But John was more interested than intimidated if the fervent glances and near constant lip licking was any indication. So he had tried his other go-to for frightening the masses, deducing their life story. But again John was more impressed than irritated. Then he tried to make John quit by making the lesson as hard as he could, but John actually kept up.
They had exchanged numbers and John had spent the whole week continually surprising Sherlock. So here he was trying to find an outfit that would further impress the rugby player. He had tried on several shirts, trousers, leggings, shorts, and finally struck on a combination that he was satisfied with.
He pulled on a pair of fishnet stockings and attached them to the suspender belt. He chose a white button up shirt which he left unbuttoned and pair of little black shorts that barely covered what it was supposed to. He put on a pair of braces to make sure that the shorts stayed where they were. Lastly he threw on a pair of low-heeled, scrunch, ankle boots.
He did his make up and made sure to add the bright red lipstick that never failed to entice. He winked in the mirror before going to his first class. As he went about his day, he loved the lingering glances, the neck-breaking double takes, and the full on stares he got from all sexes. He couldn't wait to try it on John.
He opened the door and stood there staring. Apparently Sherlock wasn't the only who had gone out of his way to dress to impress. John had showered and applied a little product, making his blond hair sweep back from his face. He was wearing tight jeans and a t-shirt that was straining to keep John's compact chest under wraps. It was failing.
Sherlock leaned up against the door jam and said with a smirk, "I see you decided to go for something other than eau du rugby today."
John looked up and his jaw dropped. He had gone for matching Sherlock's outfit last week in his own style, but this was even better than that.
"Well, I'm starting to regret that choice, if that's what got me this," he said, waving to all of Sherlock.
The man in question stood up and sauntered into the room. He walked up to John and leaned in close, "If you like this, just wait until next week."
John's knees threatened to buckle. "I can't wait," he said, voice rough.
Just then the door banged open and the two boys scrambled to create space between them.
"Oh, Mr Holmes," Prof. Weston said, "I forgot that you were tutoring Mr Watson in here today. I was just going to get the lab ready for my classes tomorrow."
"We can use the library, if that would be better," John suggested with a shrug.
"Would you?" Mr Weston asked. "That would make it so much easier, I wouldn't want to give you an unfair advantage."
John and Sherlock shared a glance before they both nodded. John dashed to gather his things and followed Sherlock out of the lab, enjoying his view of that arse again. They continued walking like this, Sherlock just enough in front of John so he could keep an eye on Sherlock's assets.
"We could always head to my room instead to study," Sherlock smirked over his shoulder.
John snorted. "If we went to your room, I can pretty much guarantee that there wouldn't be much studying done. As enjoyable as that would be, I really do need to pass this class."
Sherlock turned around and said with a wink, "You are very sure of yourself."
He moved to turn back around but suddenly John was in his space.
"Is that a challenge, Sherlock Holmes?" John growled.
Sherlock's heart nearly stopped. He had merely been flirting up to this point and he could feel the balance tip toward something else.
"Absolutely," his mouth was saying. His brain was positively shrieking to stop, but his mouth had other ideas. "Prove it, Watson."
"Fine," John breathed, placing his hand on Sherlock's bare chest. "Next week after our tutoring session, you and I are going out on a date."
Sherlock's brain had finally gone offline. A date? He blinked a moment or two and then shivered. When his brain came back online it said in Mycroft's voice, Don't get too attached. Sherlock waved him off in his head. His libido was for jumping John now. But that part of him that was still a romantic told his libido to shut up, too.
Sherlock looked down at John's hand on his chest and murmured, "You're on."
John smiled and Sherlock's brain threatened to go offline again.
"Good," John said, "Hmm...since we finished our session at five last time, I think we should aim for eight for our date. How does that sound?"
"Okay," Sherlock said. And that's when the libido decided to take over before the nerves did, his confidence came back and he smiled seductively.
John's smile turned predatory. "You better bring your A game, Sherlock, if you want to play games with me."
Sherlock leaned in close, "And what if I decide to play for keeps?"
John shivered with desire, "And who says I'm not?"
Sherlock's heart that was already beating fast, picked up. Its rhythm beating hard against his chest. Worse, there was no way John wouldn't notice, his hand where it was.
"We best get to the library," John said, removing his hand from Sherlock's heart. "After all, I still need to pass chemistry."
Sherlock gulped and nodded. He missed the heat of John's palm and his mind helpfully supplied other ways that hand could be touching him.
This session, it was Sherlock who had a hard time concentrating on the lesson. Over and over in his head he kept wondering why straight arrow John Watson would be interested in punk rebel Sherlock Holmes. But even Sherlock would be a fool to not notice the connection between them. Maybe it was that connection that prompted popular John to ask the social pariah out.
Sherlock was no closer to an answer by the time the session ended. They traded their goodbyes and Sherlock walked back to his empty room, already feeling John's loss like a wound.
Sherlock was looking at his closet yet again. This time he had the sense to leave the clothes where they were, he hadn't enjoyed the clean up when he got back from tutoring John.
His phone buzzed.
Sherlock pulled out his phone and huffed out a sigh.
So much fuss over a one-night stand -MH
Sherlock typed back angrily, It's a date, Piss off! -SH
Really? Mummy will be pleased. -MH
Fuck off, Mycroft -SH
Sherlock wanted to throw his phone across the room. He didn't need his overbearing brother to meddle in this. He had already half convinced himself to call off the date with John, he didn't need his brother to convince him the rest of the way.
Oh. -MH
Sherlock glared at his phone. What the hell did that mean?
You like him. You actually are worried that you'll screw this up. -MH
Sherlock drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them with one arm as he typed back his response.
Well done -SH
A few minutes passed before the phone erupted in his hand. He looked at the phone, his brother was actually calling him.
"What?" Sherlock bit out.
"Hello, brother mine," Mycroft replied, ignoring Sherlock's rude greeting. "Has this boy met you?"
"Fuck off, of course he has," Sherlock growled.
"And you haven't managed to frighten him off with your charming attitude, your penchant for vocalizing your deductions, or that horrid taste in clothing you call style?" Mycroft sneered.
"He actually manages to like all three, thank you," Sherlock huffed.
There was silence on the end for a moment and Sherlock dared to hope that his brother had hung up. But no luck.
"Wear that dreadful outfit that you wore to Mummy's birthday and just be yourself, Sherlock," Mycroft advised. "Surprisingly, I don't think that unless you actively sabotage the date that he'll run screaming. Which is what you are concerned about, yes?"
Sherlock bowed his head, "Yes."
"Good luck," Mycroft said.
"Thanks, Mycroft," Sherlock replied. "And say hi to that boyfriend of yours and tell him to send me another case, these classes are rotting my brain."
"I don't think that you will be a topic of conversation tonight. Gregory and I have plans as well."
"Urgh! I did not need that image," Sherlock growled.
Mycroft laughed and was still laughing when he rang off.
Sherlock went to the closet and pulled out the outfit. He looked at it and then nodded. Mycroft was right, the bastard. The outfit was perfect. He looked at his watch and cursed. He was going to be late. He threw on an old band t-shirt and pair of jeans. He hastily pulled on his favorite boots and ran out the door, bag in hand.
Shelock made it to the lab before John and heaved a sigh of relief. He needed the time to collect his thoughts.
John opened the door and was surprised. Sitting on the professor's desk was Sherlock staring at his hands. His attire was almost ordinary and the sentence was out of John's mouth before he could stop it, "I thought you were going to up the ante again with your outfit."
Sherlock lifted his head and smiled, "I'm saving it for the date."
John walked into the room and realized that he was seeing a Sherlock Holmes with his defenses down. The fancy clothes were gone, the makeup absent, and his expression open and trusting.
"You all right?" John asked as he walked up and settled in the V of Sherlock's legs.
"Why do you want to date me?" Sherlock asked.
John blinked. It was a fair question he supposed. In addition to the professors hating him, there were other rumors about this boy. The drugs, the parties, and the one-night stands. By all rights, John should have jumped Sherlock and then walked away. But there was something about this boy that left him wanting more, and he suspected he was looking at the reason right then.
"Listen up, Sherlock Holmes," John said taking Sherlock's chin in hand, "I think you are by far the most brilliant, clever, gorgeous creature I have ever laid eyes on and I want to treat you the way you deserve."
"And what's that?" Sherlock asked honestly.
"Like the god you are," John murmured.
Sherlock leaned in and kissed John's mouth softly.
"Heavenly," John observed when they came up for air.
Sherlock chuckled. "I'm no angel, John."
"Let's get this session over with, I have a date with a sexy beast tonight," John said, stepping back.
"You have two dates tonight?" Sherlock asked with a wink.
"Absolutely, in case the sexy beast doesn't show and I get this ethereal being instead," John said and then kissed Sherlock gently.
"You shouldn't go putting people on pedestals, it's very cold and lonely up there," he replied.
"Don't worry," John said as he moved to sit down, "My plans for tonight are very earthly, and if I'm lucky, things might even get outright dirty."
Sherlock laughed.
They got to work and even finished up a little early.
"The reservation is at eight, so I'll need to pick you up at half seven," John explained as they made for the door. "Where can I pick you up?"
Sherlock blinked. He hadn't thought that John would want to pick him up. Usually he would meet whoever it was that he was planning to have sex with and then head back to his place for a romp.
He realized that he had been staring off into space when he noticed John shift nervously.
"Oh, um, 221 Baker Building, room B," Sherlock said with a discreet cough.
"I'll see you at half seven," John said with a wink.
Sherlock put on the outfit Mycroft had chosen for him. He put on the skin-tight leather trousers, and then chunky thick-soled boots with belt buckles. He pulled on the ripped v-neck tee. It was Sherlock's favorite because it had hints of silver around the rips so that it drew the eye to the bare skin underneath. Then came the tour de force. The old fashioned overcoat. It looked like something that had been pulled off the rack of a production of Pride and Prejudice, but with a hint of modern flare.
Mycroft had hated the look when he showed up for their mother's fiftieth birthday last year, feeling it was inappropriate. But it was perfect for this. Though, Sherlock thought smugly, Mummy had loved it.
Sherlock was finishing his eyeliner when there was knock on the door.
He went to open the door and was very impressed. John was wearing a simple but well-made black suit and tie.
"Wow," they said together and then giggled.
"No, seriously," John said softly, "you look incredible. You really did outdo yourself. I can't wait to be seen as your date tonight."
Sherlock blushed. "I'll be the lucky one."
John just smiled and then offered Sherlock his arm. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but hooked his arm through John's.
The restaurant that John took them to was upscale but not overly expensive. John had made the reservation for eight, so they had a little time to chat before being seated. Sherlock still wasn't sure what he should do or say, but he let John lead the conversation.
Once they were seated at their table, Sherlock took the time to actually look around. Everything was plastered in pink and white with pictures of winged babies everywhere. He frowned and went into his mind palace. He saw all the similar decorations at school, heard the whispers from the female population about where their boyfriends were taking them, the calendar on his phone reading 14-02. Valentine's Day. He dug deeper into his mind palace to see if there was anything about the significance of being asked out on that day and his eyes went wide.
"Oh."
John ducked his head, "It's not too much, is it? I just wanted tonight to be perfect."
Sherlock's face softened. "It's fantastic."
John smile up at him and ordered their food with a nice wine to go with it.
They kept up the lively chatter as they ate, Sherlock's food disappearing without him realizing it.
He looked down at his empty plate with amazement. "I usually don't eat like that, sorry."
John was taken aback. "You didn't eat that much, and it makes me happy that you enjoyed the dinner."
Sherlock blushed again. "Oh. Thank you."
"Come on," John said, "let's go."
"What," Sherlock asked with a smirk, "no dessert?"
John laughed. "I have dessert planned, you just wait."
As they walked around town a bit to let their stomachs settle, Sherlock murmured, "You must think me strange, not realizing you were asking me out on Valentine's Day."
John shook his head. "I figured you'd get there eventually. I, uh...got the impression from other people you weren't the sort to normally do Valentine's Day."
"Meaning you heard I was a slut," Sherlock bit out.
"That's what they said, but being promiscuous doesn't make you a slut in my opinion. I just means you're promiscuous."
"That's very forward of you," Sherlock admitted. "I just never saw the point to Valentine's Day. It wasn't something I thought about enough to worry about the holiday."
"Well, if I have any say in the matter you won't have to worry about it ever again," John said fiercely.
Sherlock was taken back, "I'm not sure I understand the implication."
John brought Sherlock down for a kiss and then said, "Meaning that I will be in charge of your Valentine's Days for the foreseeable future."
"Oh." Sherlock blinked. "I'd like that very much."
John beamed up at his new boyfriend and then took his hand as they continued their walk.
Soon Sherlock was starting to get cold. The outfit was pretty but not very warm. John laughed, and then hailed a taxi to take them to his flat.
He shot off a brief text message and then turned to Sherlock. "Just a little heads up to Cupid," he explained. "I meant what I said when I told you that I was out to make tonight perfect. Even if it took a little outside help."
They soon found themselves pulling up of a little rundown set of flats, but not bad really. Standing out in front of the main door was a little cherub of a man with wire-rimmed glasses and the cheesiest smile on his face.
John paid for their taxi and then walked up to the man. "Is everything ready, Mike?"
Mike chuckled. "Oh yeah."
"Good, I'm sorry you and Divya couldn't do anything tonight," John said.
Mike shrugged. "Our one year dating anniversary is on the sixteenth anyway, so it's not a big deal. She got that day off, so that's all that really matters."
"Hey, that's fantastic," John agreed. "If you ever need me to return the favor on this, let me know, right?"
Mike's smile grew bigger. "Deal. Enjoy your date, Watson. And don't worry, I'm staying the night at Divya's." he added with a wink at Sherlock.
John patted Mike on the shoulder and Mike went to the waiting taxi, letting it carry him away.
"I know him," Sherlock noted. "He's the teacher's assistant in my chemistry class."
"Mike? Yeah, he's the one that told me about you for the tutoring thing."
"He must be feeling pretty pleased with himself," Sherlock noted dryly.
John chuckled and led him up to his flat. "Close your eyes, Sherlock," he instructed, covering Sherlock's eyes with his hands from behind.
"It's unlocked. Just push it open," he said.
Sherlock nudged the door open with his foot and the two of them awkwardly walked into the flat. They took several steps before John stopped them. Sherlock could feel John's intake of breath before he removed his hands from Sherlock's eyes.
"Open them," John said.
Sherlock did as he was bid and gasped. On the floor there were rose petals, and except for the small table holding the wine bucket and chocolate cake, every other flat surface was covered with candles. In the hearth was a roaring fire.
"John, it's wonderful," Sherlock breathed.
John helped Sherlock out of his jacket and then removed his own. They kicked off their shoes and then lay in front of the fire, drinking the wine and feeding each other the decadent cake.
They weren't sure who leaned forward first, but soon they were kissing, everything else forgotten.
"You gorgeous thing, you," John purred into Sherlock's neck.
"John," Sherlock panted and arched into his touch.
John's hands slid down Sherlock's torso to slip under the hem of his shirt, earning a gasp from his boyfriend.
"I could devour you," John whispered in Sherlock's ear.
"Please!" Sherlock whispered and then leaned back to pulled his shirt over his head.
John licked his lips. "Oh, the things I want to do to you."
John unbuttoned his shirt slowly, teasing Sherlock by revealing his skin bit by bit.
"You torment me, John," Sherlock breathed.
John chuckled, removing the shirt. Sherlock reached out to touch, reveling in the strong outline of John's muscles.
John leaned down and licked Sherlock's nipple, tugging gently on the ring with his tongue. "Ever remove these?"
"I'm not supposed to, it could cause them to close," Sherlock replied, throwing his head back in pleasure.
"Hmm, wouldn't want that," John agreed, laving the other nipple.
His hands trailed down Sherlock's sides and stuttered to a stop at his hips. Sherlock bucked at the touch, wanting more.
"Please," he begged again.
John unzipped Sherlock's trousers, slowly drawing them down those long legs, kissing down one leg and then after he removed them, back up the other.
"Exquisite," John huffed. He took off the pants next, leaving Sherlock bare and wanting.
Lithe as a cat, Sherlock surged up to pin John underneath him. "You aren't getting away with having me naked and you not."
John chuckled and then was cut off by a sharp intake of breath. Sherlock had buried his face into John's crotch and Christ it felt good.
Sherlock was more merciful than John as he quickly divested John of his trousers, revealing a lovely pair of red trunks.
"Red?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, it's Valentine's, it seemed appropriate."
Sherlock laughed, burying his head into John's crotch, this time to stop the giggles that threatened to derail their evening.
"You berk, get up here and kiss me," John groused. Sherlock came up and did just that, the smile refusing to leave his face.
When the red pants finally came off, Sherlock was a little stunned. John's cock was long and thick and he so desperately wanted to taste it. He licked a long strip from the tip to the base, John moaned.
"Fuck," John bit out, "you are far too talented with that thing, you keep that up and this will be over very fast."
"We wouldn't want that, would we?" Sherlock said and licked another stripe, going the opposite direction to take the tip in his mouth.
John bucked and then scrambled for the lube that had been warming next to the fireplace.
"Oh, no you don't," John huffed. "I intend to make this night last."
Sherlock chuckled but let John's cock drop out of his mouth.
"I want you to suck my cock, just not tonight," John explained as he lathered up some lube on his fingers.
Sherlock's mind came to a halt. Next time. That sounded wonderful and he kissed John deeply.
"Mmm...what was that for? Not that I'm complaining," the med student asked warmly.
"Next time, John, next time," Sherlock murmured.
It took John a minute to realize what Sherlock was talking about and then he was snogging the hell out of Sherlock.
"Of course there will be a next time, there will be dozens, hundreds, thousands of next times, I promise," he muttered into Sherlock's skin.
Sherlock hummed happily but gasped as his boyfriend took advantage of his distraction and pierced Sherlock's hole with his lubed up finger.
"Good boy," John whispered. "So tight, got to loosen you up to fuck you proper."
"God, yes!" Sherlock cursed.
John slowly worked Sherlock open, taking his time. They had all night after all, and he didn't want to hurt Sherlock their first time.
Soon Sherlock was panting with need and John gently pulled his fingers out. Sherlock moaned from the loss but soon was moaning even louder when John began pressing his cock at Sherlock's entrance. Once John slid all the way home, Sherlock threw his head back and made a sound that was part growl, part scream. John let out a growl of his own, fighting the urge to pound into Sherlock.
This time was going to perfect, he reminded himself as he slid in and out, lightly drawing across Sherlock's prostate, building up his lover's climax bit by bit.
"Touch me!" Sherlock screamed.
John chuckled and took Sherlock's cock in hand, moving in time with his own thrusting. Sherlock came first with a gasp, his eyes flying open, head and body arching from the pleasure.
John groaned and began pumping erratically, chasing his release. He came with a shout, eyes pressed close as he slowly filled Sherlock up.
"Incredible," John huffed.
"God, yes," Sherlock agreed.
"Stay right here," John commanded and then got up.
Sherlock lay there as a feeling of bliss settled over him. So this is what it felt like when your partner isn't in a hurry to get off and then bugger off. He liked it.
John came back with a wet flannel and cleaned Sherlock up, his front and his back. When he was done, he threw the rag on top of the table and grabbed the blanket off the sofa. He covered them with the blanket and cuddled close to Sherlock.
"I love you," Sherlock whispered like a confession.
John smiled at him, fondly. "I love you, too, Sherlock."