A/n: Hello there, I was wanted to note that there is a chance this isn't super realistic for how you see the characters; but it is so far my habit of only writing Johnlock when I need to work something out for myself, so my goal isn't exactly to stay true to the canon. If this will bother you, don't say I didn't warn you. Also, it isn't terribly explicit and there is no penetration, but it is mature in theme and content, so be prepared for that.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters nor do I profit monetarily from this work. All credit goes to the BBC and their affiliates.

John could feel Sherlock's eyes on him as he sat reading the paper with a cuppa, but when he looked up the man's gaze was fixed upon the laptop he really shouldn't have been using because, as John constantly reminded him, he has his own. The older man went back to his copy of the Times failing to catch Sherlock staring at him, though he could feel it happen again right as his paper went back up. This went on for another twenty minutes before he lost his patience. Draining the last of the now cold tea from his mug, John folded the paper and set it beside him on the arm of the chair and waited for the other man to stop pretending to use the computer and look up at him. Being unaccustomed to being treated with the same manners as he treats others, it didn't take long for him to break, closing the laptop with slightly more force than necessary, a petulant look on his face.

"Spit it out then," John prompted.

"Spit what out?"

Rolling his eyes, John replied, "Whatever it is you've been thinking about so hard. Unless you'd rather pretend not to stare at me for the remainder of the day as well."

Sherlock grunted. "Patience, Watson."

"Says the pot to the kettle."

"I think we should have sex," he stated in a matter-of-fact tone. Only the caution in his eyes betrayed that he was even the slightest bit uncertain of his words.

"Pardon?" John inquired. "Did you just say that we should…have sex?" He was completely blindsided by the man's statement.

The younger man frowned. "Yes. As you will recall, we agreed that when I felt the time was right we would try more intimate things; and I have decided that it is time." His fingers twitched where they sat on his knees, though he willed them to stay still.

"Yes, Sherlock, I remember the conversation. It's not exactly something one could forget. But it just seems a little sudden, is all. I mean, where is this coming from?"

"Part scientific inquiry and part boredom."

John snorted. "How romantic," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Are you really certain that this is something you want to try?"

"What can I say," he replied smoothly, "curiosity killed the cat." Going off onto a tangent he added, "Though that really is an odd saying; cats are no more curious than most other mammals of their intelligence. So they are not actually at any more risk for death when compared to various mammalian species. But, yes. This is something I am certain I want to try."

"All right, then." John cleared his throat. "Do you have an idea of when so we can plan or something?"

"How about now?"

"Now?" John repeated back.

"Yes, now. Do keep up," Sherlock replied. He rose gracefully from his seat, crossing the room quickly to stand in front of the other man's chair, looming there, waiting for a response. When none was given he took John's hand in his own, tugging it slightly to coax him to stand. John responded not by standing up, but by pulling the man down into the chair with him. He wrapped his arms around the slender man with a sigh.

"I could use a minute to process this, love. You sort of sprang it on me out of nowhere."

Sherlock grumbled. "We had just talked about it, you should have still been thinking about it."

"Sherlock, it's been months since we talked about this!" The man rolled his eyes in that way that drives John crazy. He sighed. "Fine, alright. We can try this today, but just give me a mo, will you?" Sherlock grinned triumphantly, extricating himself from his partner's embrace, and headed into his bedroom. To be honest, in the past few months it had really become their bedroom, even though all they had done in it together was sleep, but there were first times for everything, this day surely being one. A few minutes later John stood from his armchair, scrubbing his face with his hands. With a sigh he shook his head and followed the other man into the bedroom.

Sherlock was sitting cross-legged on the bed waiting for him, and looking slightly apprehensive. "The two aren't mutually exclusive," he stated, heading off what was sure to be a volley of questions, "I am both nervous and quite certain I want to do this today."

John smiled fondly, "Of course you are." He chuckled. "I'm rather nervous, myself. So, ah, how do we want to do this?"

"However you like. What would you do if I was any of the girls you brought home?" Sherlock asked in response.

"Well, I'd start with a bit of snogging, but that is…" John tailed off awkwardly.

"Off the table," the other man finished.

"Yeah." After a beat he continued. "Besides that, is there anything specific you do or don't want to do? It's probably good to state it now."

Sherlock thought for a moment. "I don't think I'll object if you would perhaps like to kiss me somewhere other than my mouth. But I do ask that we take this slowly. And no tongue."

Nodding, John replied, "Of course we will take it slow. We can go as slow as you'd like." Having sat down across from Sherlock, he reached out with one hand and grabbed the back of the younger man's neck. Rubbing his thumb in circles he whispered, "I love you, Sherlock. And if anything gets too much you tell me and we will stop."

Sherlock nodded with a sharp jerk of his chin. "I love you too." He drew in a sharp breath as John's fingers easily undid the buttons of his shirt, caressing each revealed patch of skin. He shuddered slightly as his shirt was pushed off of his shoulders, exposing his skin to the cool air of the room. Slowly, his fingers crept towards his lovers own shirt. "May I?" he asked in a gravelly voice, fingers worrying the fabric.

"Of course." John felt the arousal stirring at the bottom of his stomach at the sound of Sherlock's voice already sounding strung out after nothing more than the removal of a button-down. He allowed cautious fingers to slide the t-shirt up his torso, lifting his arms in assistance as it was pulled off over his head and shoulders. Sherlock's hands traced over the man's chest, barely touching. It was the first time he had been given more than just a glimpse of the man's chest and he was fascinated. His fingers floated over the raised scars of the healed bullet hole before skimming down the man's arm to intertwine their fingers. He looked up into the man's eyes, tearing his own away from the scarred tissue. John lifted their hands, kissing the back of his lovers'. "Lay back." Sherlock acquiesced, letting the other man guide him backward, his head resting on the pillow behind him. After placing a soft kiss to his shoulder, the older man looked into his eyes and smiled. "You're beautiful, Sherlock. So beautiful."

Sherlock wasn't certain how to reply, only giving the man a shaky smile in return. It was all a lot to get used to, almost over-stimulating. He had goosebumps from the cool air of the room, John's hands seared his skin with each contact, and he stomach was flopping awkwardly in a way he couldn't quite explain. It felt as if he was both disturbed and excited by the encounter at the same time. He closed his eyes, dragging in a sharp breath.

"Sherlock?" John asked cautiously. "Are you all right?" He nodded yes. "Do you want to stop?" The younger man didn't respond; a few seconds slowly passing before John spoke again. "How about you take a minute to process everything, yeah?" Sherlock nodded once more, some of the tension leaving his face though his eyes remained tightly shut. He felt the bed dip as John moved to lie beside him just far enough away that they were no longer touching. He could feel the man's gaze on him as he took a moment to breathe; it was warm on his skin. His hands, which had been clenching the sheets, relaxed and his eyes fluttered open.

"I apologise," he said, voice shaking slightly. "I think I'm ready to continue." John sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to convince the man otherwise. He was beginning to regret agreeing to this in the first place after seeing the way his lover was reacting, and they hadn't even gotten to the exciting parts yet. Though, he realised there was a distinct possibility that what he was referring to as exciting was what Sherlock thought of as relatively terrifying.

"Maybe if you told me what you wanted me to do it would be easier?" he suggested.

"But I don't know." The simple statement slayed him. Of course John knew that the man was new to what they were doing, but he hadn't even registered the fact that he wouldn't know what he wanted from it. It really should have been obvious, he thought. A thirty year old virgin who had never before even contemplated the idea of having sex past the fact that it was a biological impulse. There was no way the man could be in the slightest prepared for what was surely an intense set of stimuli unlike ever before. He decided to switch it up a bit to try and make his partner more relaxed.

He put his arm around the thin man and pulled him close against his chest. John sighed in relief when Sherlock's body almost instantly melted into the familiar position. However, unlike usual, John began to let his hand wander away from its customary seat on the man's abdomen. He trailed his hand first upwards, his thumb rolled over one nipple causing the younger man to arch into the touch. He continued to caress Sherlock's chest for a while before his hand made its way back down. Meanwhile, his other hand was entwined with one of Sherlock's hands, his arm trapped beneath the man's head. Sherlock shuddered slightly as John's free hand delved lower, brushing his hip. Pausing in his ministrations momentarily, he waited until the younger man nodded his head in signal that it was okay to continue. He ran his fingers across the soft fabric of his trousers. His fingers found the outline of the man's semi-hard on, tracing it through the layers of cotton, making Sherlock audibly gasp.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into the man's ear.

Breathlessly Sherlock replied, "Yes." His hips canted forward into the man's touch. "Yes."

"Tell me if it gets too much and we will stop. Remember, we won't do more than you are comfortable with." His voice was lower than normal, a seductive growl in Sherlock's ear. "All right if I undo the zip now?" he questioned, fingers pausing in their ministrations at a shake of the man's head. The younger man turned to face him, while dismayed at the temporary loss of contact between one of his most private areas and John's hand; he needed to see the man. To look in the eyes his source of pleasure, determined this time not to lose his nerve.

John's shock was evident in his face at this turn of events, though he quickly understood his lover's intentions. As soon as eye contact was established, Sherlock guided the man's hand back to his zipper. "Shall I reciprocate?" Sherlock asked, his hands shaking as one lay atop John's hip and the other fluttered next to his crotch.

"Only if you want to," the older man replied before undoing the man's trousers. "Today is about you." He noted with pleasure that Sherlock was completely hard now despite the nervousness he was clearly feeling.

"Right," the other man nodded. "Thank you, I don't think I'm ready to, ah, do that quite yet." He held his breath as John pulled down the zipper to his trousers before sharply letting it out as said trousers were pulled down over his ass, revealing a pair of tight briefs. He hadn't thought it possible, but the contact John made with his most private areas was even more enjoyable with only one layer of fabric between them. He wasn't certain that he could stand anything more, as surely skin on skin would be far too much stimulus for him to enjoy at this time. As John stroked him through the cotton of his pants he began to feel a tightening in his lower abdomen and a spreading heat throughout his bones. "John, I—" he gasped as the feeling spread further. "I believe I might…"

"I know, love," John said, interrupting him. "Let it happen; it's okay." Sherlock's body stiffened as he came, mouth frozen in a silent exclamation of pleasure. His orgasm had been short but hard and he felt himself going limp like a ragdoll cat. So sated was he that John bringing himself to a finish mostly escaped his notice until the man grunted and spilled his load.

They lay in contented silence for a while as their breathing evened and heartbeats lowered. Sherlock counted the beats of John's heart, focusing on it to calm his own. After a few minutes he spoke. "That was…a lot to think about." John tried not to take the comment personally, reminding himself that it was coming from Sherlock and thus was not meant as an insult. He smiled in response to the comment.

"Well, that's always something." The older man gave Sherlock's hand a quick squeeze as he sat up and rose from the bed. "I'll be right back," he said.

The detective's brow furrowed and he said in an uncharacteristically vulnerable voice, "Where are you going?" John couldn't help but chuckle fondly.

"To the bath to get a flannel. It'll just take a mo, Sher." The man nodded.

True to his word, John returned hardly thirty seconds later, damp flannel in hand. He wiped himself off, riding himself of the come that had begun to dry into a sticky mess. When finished he looked down at the younger man, asking, "May I?" Sherlock murmured his agreement. He looked on curiously as the man carefully lowered his briefs and wiped him down gently with the cloth before tossing it through the open door to the ensuite. It landed with a dull thwack onto the tile flooring. "Do you want to get dressed? Or…" John asked, trailing off in uncertainty. Despite being the more advanced partner in these matters, John was finding it harder than he'd anticipated to navigate the situation. He simply didn't know what to expect from his lover.

"Some pants would be nice," Sherlock replied. He stood on slightly unsteady legs and went to the dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers. He turned back around in time to see John sliding on his own fresh pair of pants, flushing at the glimpse he witnessed of the man's penis and averting his eyes. Pulling a shirt over his head, John snorted in amusement. "Shut up, John."

"I didn't say a thing." The older man closed the space between them and pulled Sherlock into his arms, nuzzling his neck. "Though," he whispered into the man's neck, "I guess I didn't have to." The grunt he received in response was affirmative. He steered the man towards the bed, sitting him back down on it. He rested a hand upon Sherlock's cheek with a smile before sitting down with him.

"In the way you present yourself, the deductions and the attitude," John stated, "it's easy to forget just how young you are. How innocent, even." Sherlock made a noise which was quickly silenced. "Before you protest, I'm just saying that you still manage to surprise me after all this time. And I really love that about you."

Sherlock pushed at John's chest, urging him to lie down. Once he had complied, the younger man lay beside him, tucked under John's arm with his head on the man's shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered. The arm around him tightened. Sherlock had begun to drift off to sleep, exhausted from their escapades and the emotional output it had required, when John spoke again.

"Sherlock?" The younger man nodded in response. "I want you to know that it's okay if you don't want to do this again. I won't be mad or upset in any way." John waited, feeling the man's brain work in circle around what had just been said. The hand wresting on his stomach grabbed onto his vest. "Sherlock?"

The younger man raised himself onto an elbow, tousled black hair falling into his eyes. "Are you certain? I need to know."

Making a point to look his lover in the eye, John replied, "I'm certain." The consulting detective's face, formerly in a stern scowl, melted into an image of relief. John lifted a hand to his face, thumb rubbing softly against sharp cheekbone. "Go to sleep, love. You need the rest." He was happy when the man complied, resting his head back down and his eyes closed. Those big decisions about the physical part of their relationship could wait until morning.

A/n: Thank you for reading to the end! I hope you liked it and would love a kind word in the review box!