Broken into reality, the ex soldier gasped at his shameless enjoyment, enticement and gratitute for the thin shoulders beneath his quivering hands, still rubbing, silencing his overwhelmed beating heart, He had been nursing Sherlocks most previous wound, on his right shoulder, pressing soflty across pale skin working tenderly wrenching with both hands, studdering at the view
"yes"
he pressed out, it came out soft and tender
"Your panting."
a moment of terror seized John, had he been found out
"it's nice"
Watson didn't dare move, he didn't dare speak, he knew his voice would break if he uttered anything. Insted he deepened his grasp causing Holmes to gasp a little shot of what could only be heard as a moan, John pressed his body against holmes back, his stomach twisted and his heart yearned as he breathed in every scent of this man,
pine oddly enough came to mind first, followed by vanilla and a undetermine scent that only Holmes could emit, Watson found himself bathing in it. Unconciously, as these thoughts crowded Johns usually innocent mind he had slipped his right hand over Holmes sturdy heartbeat, which lept out at him, almost in sync with his own he shuddered letting a guilty
'ah'
along with it, quickly relizing his quite repulsive actions, he retracted into the corner of the room, eyes buldged in worry, worry for what was to become of him if he continued this any longer, fear for the deducing skills of the detective, and the horribly hidden feelings he held so strongly for him. Watson's hand sheltered his gaping mouth, one leg lifted pressed against the wall like a kickstand, his knees weak, chest expanding exsessively, mind tainted with thoughts of lust and buggery.
"I'm sorry"
was uttered before feet scurried across the floor and the door slamming Holmes turned around to an empty room, Sherlock looked around,
"John frightened"
His eyebrows raised in appretiation
"not bad..."
The rest of the evening was mostly quiet and John tried his best to avoid the same screw up with Sherlock it became quickly apparent however that resistance was futile as John was not needed at work and Holmes couldn't stay in his study all day, they saw eachother around six, than again at 12 in the sitting room. Watson layed himself onto the sette, as Sherlock walked in he sprung up, which starlted Holmes causing him to almost loose balance.
"Holmes!"
Watson cried out mindlessly and instinctively. Sherlock looked up at him, questionably he approached What seemed to a case dragging behind him
"What's that?"
John motioned to the obsolete bag thrown behind the tall figure
"Oh this, evidence."
"evidence of what?"
"other than that, what are you doing home"
The sinfully deep voice passed John, leaving him agrivated at the clear dismissal to his question
"they don't need me at work, what's the evidence for"
"I lied"
"what?"
Sherlock dismissed the last comment, as usual
"well are you coming?"
"coming where?"
"my shoulder hurts"
John felt his ears heat, he was sure Holmes could see this and turned away.
"what?"
"nothing,"
"No, you turned away, your doing that... thing you people do"
"us people?"
"right you... vancant minded people"
"I beg your pardon!"
Watson turned in offence, holding his shoulders back and his figure composed.
"stop doing that thing"
"I'm sorry, what is this thing that us 'vacant minded people' do exactly"
"oh come now, don't tell me your taking offense to this."
John opened his mouth but found himself completely fascinated on what was going on in that chaotic mind, that chaotic brilliant mind.
"I'm not"
"That's aside the point why did you turn away"
John for the umpteenth time that day was at a loss of words,
"turned away..."
"Yes, it involved quite a bit on intentional movement based on the fact you turned you wounded shoulder, thus showing it wasn't a mere convience, your hiding And I'd say by the way you seem to have forgotten your cane and are holding it in more a grip than a support shows your stressed by the mention of your absence,
now why would that be unless something is on the tip of your tounge"
He smiled as john's face was easy enough to deduce that he was correct, with his smug grin, he leaned in catching John off gaurd
"something you can't say yourself, an issue of private matters, of course why would you come to me unless, it has me involved. But you still won't accept it so turning away was your only option."
"I-"
"So John, tell me. Am I right?"
Sherlocks eyes narrowed matching the depth of his voice.
"God, it's like talking to an analyzing robot!"
John chuckled in disbelief and Sherlock lifted his head in dissaproval of the choice of words
"You said your shoulder was hurting, well come on.."
A clearly agrivated John left the room, quite clearly expecting Sherlock to follow.
"Analyzing robot..."
Sherlock picked up the concept in his mind, disapproving completely
"It's more of a deduction thing really"
Sherlock called after John, before exiting the sitting room to where John patiently sat at an elevation to another chair
"well.."
Sherlock moved to the empty chair, sitting quite awkwardly at first but relaxing as the good doctor began, moving from one shoulder to the next, raking in flesh, pulling it up and reaching for more. It was good silent minute later When John heard the silky rich statement
"Your shoulder, it's in pain"
John stopped, momentarily, but continued, feeling beneath his hands Sherlock's muscles retense.
"It's fine"
Before John could do anything but in sigh in frustration, as the body flew from beneath his hands and swept up behind him, He began kneeding his scar, while stroking his neck, pulling at chin, angling his face so that his heated breath curled along side his the side of his cheek, and collecting at his temple. John arched his back, writhing under the various sensations Sherlock was sending through him
"You still haven't told me why you turned so urgently. If you refuse now, I'll take it upon myself to investigate and I'm sure you of all people know it won't take me long"
Shivers bolted down John's spine at the cold heavy intricate voice, elaborating in his ear. Watson had to remember to lye to Sherlock more.
"Sherlock... please..."
"So what will it be, me observing your every move"
John's heart stopped along with the creamy voice
"And I know how you like your space"
Though he couldn't see it, john felt sherlock smirk, His breathing had become erratic, the pressure on his shoulder melted him in too many ways
"It's..."
Sherlock waited for him to continue even though he knew watsons habits, to shy to mention anything bothering him, to timid to bring a discussion about his own well being, Holmes adored his modesty but had to get it out of him one way or another, this taunted him most about the intriguing man, the inability to read him.
Sherlock spun john around in a whirl facing the now completely red companion to face him,
"Watson."
He took a firm tone Johns gaze met sherlock's with a quite pervocative expression, his eyes watering, mouth hanging open,
"No, no it's nothing..."
Again the smug eyes of sherlock- still unmoved by John's bluff peirced his gaze
"what."
More of a statement than anything the deep voice rippled through John Watson's body, affectively rendering his body useless, he wanted to throw it at the lean figure, still so put together and composed. For Sherlock to support his loose limbs, pile into his long white arms.
"Hold me"
It was out. In the air, lingering tension floating, clouding the room. It was a huge surprize as Sherlock complied. Taking the smaller man onto his lap. Pressing Johns knee's against his shoulder, Sherlock held His eyes to a corner of the room, holding him securely in place but not sparing a glance
"sherlock... what are you doing"
"you people are so indesicive, you asked me to hold you, and I am"
"us people with vacant minds?"
"Oh John, you say that like it's a question"
John chuckled and burrowed into sherlocks lanky chest, pulling his head back and forth, rocking him rhymically, just enjoying the rare oppertunity
"It's nice"
sherlock's breathing stilled, John felt him tense under his legs. Grasping his head into his shoulder, Johns melting alittle more into his hold, forgetting himself again and again
"...Kiss me"
John paralyzed, he really just said that, it sounded as needy and raspy as he felt it rumble in his throat, regretting his stupidity his eye buldged hidden in Sherlocks clothes
"I can't John"
John hoped to god, somehow he didn't say that... someway he didn't-
"I didn't know you were that dull John"
John prayed to god if he squeezed his eyes tight enough he would drowned out the insults
"You'll have to face me for that to happen, unless of course you'd prefer making out with my arm pit"
John's eyes shot open he sprung up, but found he was in Sherlocks grip, the best he could do was come to eye contact. Before he knew it, the perfectly curved lips were on him, and as quickly as they came, they were gone.
"Why..."
"Well I can't really afford to displease you too much, wouldn't want to loose..."
Sherlock tightened the creases on his mouth, he looked down and cleared his throat, glancing back at John and than turning away to state
"Your companionship"
A smirk wiped across John's eager face
"So your doing what I say now are you?"
Sherlock met John with an equally ambitious grin
"It's an experiment."