SH.
Enlightened (1) - Molly's box.
(When I came up with the sub-title I was just being rude really.
Fluff to descend no-doubt into smut very soon... Sherwatson. Enjoy)
I wrote this in two parts for deviant but am posting it here as a whole story. Haven't got to grips with FF yet. Many thanks to PM for help. Hoping formatting now straightened out following arguement between me and my mac! "Fuck you, I won a BAFTA!"
This is my first Fan fic on here though I have been writing for 15 years. All comments welcome, but please don't rip me to shreds. :) Hope you enjoy.
It was just after five and John Watson was settled in his favorite chair with that mornings paper and a steaming hot cup of tea. He'd had an oddly quiet saturday. Sherlock had bounced off early that morning with his riding crop and the words 'Don't wait up'. Presumably he was thrashing a cadaver at the lab for some scientific but uncomprhendable reason.
"Poor Molly.." John mused, with a half smile to himself. Another night of hope shattered by a careless word no doubt.
Still, John was strangely glad of Sherlocks disinterest in women... in anyone. He found he liked being special. Not special in a way that anyone would notice, he didn't need anyone else to notice. He only needed Sherlock to notice. That made him special.
John had mused on this at some length of late. The fact that he had lost several girlfriends because of his attachment to Sherlock was intriguing.. Not worrying as such. He had thought about the way Sherlock would look at him sometimes... It made him feel.. Ah, John couldn't articulate what it was. But his heart would skip a little. When Sherlock would tell him in a quiet moment how brilliant he could be he felt such pride and pleasure... And sometimes when they were alone John would watch Sherlock working, or pacing.. He was also aware that he was also watched. Occasionally at night John would be watching TV and in the corner of his eye he would catch Sherlock watching him... or did he make that up? Once John was convinced that Sherlock had in fact sat in his bedroom all night watching him sleep. Though he had been drugged at time John was sure... But it didn't matter. Because John trusted Sherlock. He made him feel special. That was all he needed...
Ten minutes passed and then John heard the door open and close, a sharp "Not now Mrs. Hudson" and the familiar hurried steps of his Flat-mate, Sherlock Holmes - Consulting detective, lightly bounding up the stairs. The door crashed open and John glanced up from his paper. Tilting his head a little curiously as he took in the vision before him.
Sherlocks hair, wild as ever, appeared a little wilder than was usual. There was an air of repressed stress that hung about him and his pale skin looked paler than normal. But the most extraordinary thing was that he carried in his arms a huge cardboard box filled to the brim with... well, John couldn't make out most of it. Kicking the door shut with obvious annoyance, Sherlock strode across the room and dumped the box with a loud bump onto a table. Closing his eyes for a brief second as if to gather himself, then ran a hand through his tousled curls before reaching into the box of unknown thing's and carefully retrieving his precious whip from it. John pursed his lips.
"Good day?" he asked, in a voice that was not overly optimistic. Sherlock tapped the whip against his leg agitatedly before turning to look at him.
"Interesting" came the curt but calm reply.
"So where's the box come from?" John tried. Sherlocks eyes settled on the box and then on John.
"Found it" came the reply.
"You found it... Wher..." John stopped. Sherlock had that look about him.
"Oh, come on John, don't be gullible" he admonished. John dropped his eyes and shook his head.
"It's not the most unreasonable explanation..." he grumbled, rustling his paper in mock annoyance. Sherlock turned back to the box with a look of long suffering.
"Molly" he said flatly. John looked up again interested by this tiny statement.
"Is... is she alright?" he asked the detective mildly.
"I'M not alright!" came the reply. Sherlock now began pacing, tapping the whip in his hand hard enough for John to flinch slightly. "Why do you think of Molly? It's me who's had to..." He stopped. Again shaking his head.
"Had to...?" John encouraged, curious now.
"I had to help her move flats!" Sherlock said, the distain evident in his tone. John dropped his paper and his jaw. Then he started to chuckle. Sherlock glared at him furiously.
"It is in no way funny." John attempted to suppress his mirth and coughed out,
"Wh... Why you?"Sherlock crossed the room, dropped the whip and fell onto the sofa, his arms and legs sprawled sinuously across it. He let out a long suffering sigh.
"I went in early, as you know. I called her in. She didn't appreciate it apparently.. Even though I was being NICE to her. Turned out she was meant to be moving. Her 'friend' let her down at the last minute... Something about not liking being 'stood up?'" Sherlocks eyes met with John's, as if asking him if he knew what the hell that meant. "and she got upset... emotional. So I offered." Sherlock pursed his lips together, musing on the mistake of the day.
"Well..." John soothed "that was very... kind of you."
"Anything to shut her up." Sherlock huffed his eyes rolling up to the ceiling in despair. "Crying woman... How do you cope with that John? How?" He shook his head and placed both hands against his lips in quiet reflection.
Silence fell for a few moments until finally John asked
"And the box?"
"Molly gave it to me to say 'thank-you...' she thought it might be useful." murmured the unmoving detective. Again silence fell. Finally John got up.
"Well, shall we see what's in it?" he suggested cautiously, heading over to where it sat. Sherlock rolled onto his side in the direction of John.
"It's full of things that women think men need, but of course don't." he commented harshly. "May as well put it by the bin's John." John turned to his reclining housemate with a grin.
"Ah, come on Sherlock. You wouldn't have bought it here if you weren't curious about it's content. The least you can do with the knowledge of it's treasures is torment Molly further.. I know how much you enjoy that." For the first time that night Sherlock had to grin. He couldn't help it.
"Now where do you get such ideas John Watson?" the knowledge that John spoke the truth echoed in his voice, but he continued teasing "Why would I want to do that?" John caught his eye and then dropped his gaze down to where Sherlocks abandoned whip lay.
"Because your a sadist" he said mildly, before once again turning curiously towards the box. He heard Sherlock chuckle and uncurl himself off the sofa to appear, seconds later, at his side. He raised a sardonic eyebrow.
"You love it" came the quick and low reply. There was a moment of quiet. John looked into Sherlocks eyes and pulled back just as fast. There was a look he didn't quite understand shining deep within them. He had seen it before. It made his breath catch for a second and John's heart felt like it had tripped over itself. John admonished himself. Damn.
Sherlock saw it happen, the split second of difference. He heard John's breathing change. Saw the flush in his skin. Then he felt himself do the same. Not that John would have noted it. Doctor or not, his powers of observation were far below his own. Sherlock mused for a moment on his body's betrayal. The one thing he could not entirely control. Sometimes because of stress. Possibly because of fear. Around John though it was particularly difficult. It wasn't something he had ever had trouble with before he had met him. But sometimes when he met John's eyes Sherlock would feel his skin betray him, his pulse quicken. Maybe it was because he saw the beauty behind them. They were as unmissable as his own. John's dark blue eyes.
Giving himself a mental shake Sherlock tried to concentrate on what John was actually saying to him.
"Shall we take a look then?" he asked like a kid in a sweet shop. Sherlock glanced down with mock distain at his friend.
"If you must" John stepped forward and peered curiously into the large cardboard box. It was covered with a silk scarf of peacock blues. Sherlock reached over John's shoulder and grabbed hold of this with his fingers. He then pulled it off with a flourish. If it had been anybody else John would have expected a 'Ta-da' to accompany it.
What was uncovered was an assortment of odd things. John began to figure that Sherlock was probably, once again, correct. Curiously he reached into the box and pulled out one, of the three, large church candles. It smelt pleasant, maybe roses...
"Tuber Rose" Sherlock remarked with marked distain. "Only a woman could think a man would appreciate the smell of an old ladies knicker draw." John attempted not to break into a smirk and instead shrugged contemplatively.
"Could be useful..." he half mused "if you blow out the electric AGAIN" Sherlock did have tendency of knocking out every fuse in the house with his experiments. Sherlock gave a low chuckle.
"You suddenly afraid of the dark John?"
"Uh... No.." John replied, a half frown of confusion crossing his face. "Why would I..." He saw Sherlocks amused eyes and realized he was again only teasing. But somehow the air had thickened around him and John swallowed hard. "Right." He said, placing the candle on the table, wishing his voice hadn't come out quite as breathless "What other tokens of love has Molly sent you?" Sherlock growled at this, but said nothing. John smiled and fished out a resin skull. The sort of thing you'd find in a teenage girls room. A girl who might be trying to take a walk on the dark-side but was failing miserably. Sherlock raised a brow curiously. He gently took it from John's hand and stared at it. He then chucked it over his shoulder. It landed with a crash somewhere in the flat. John went to turn, but Sherlock shook his head and murmured,
"Continue". John half shook his head and rummaged around looking for something interesting. Following the burning of every joss stick all at once in the sink, a tray being thrown out the window, and Sherlocks utter confoundment as to why they would require bath oil, John was now rubbing his temples gently as he watched his housemate 'culling' Molly's unwanted book collection. As pages flew furiously to the floor, John let out a despairing sound before once again checking the now almost empty box. As the soft feathers touched his skin John had to break out a smile. A little chuckle escaped his throat. It seemed Molly had been hoping for something more than Sherlock just helping her move. Like the candles, the bath oil... John shivered slightly. A half vision flashed into his mind of Sherlock gently massaging all that stress out of Molly. Of him being tender. He shook himself violently as a stab of jealousy shot through him. No, that was impossible. Goodness, what was wrong with him?
He then realized Sherlock had stopped taking out his general aggression on english literature and was watching him curiously. He tilted an eyebrow and looked at John's hand still wedged in the box.
"Well?" he asked, pursing his lips "any other 'gifts'?" John hesitated and then with a half amused look slowly revealed a large black feather. A huge fine plume of soft tickling strands. Sherlock dropped the book he held in his hand with a crash and then silkily crossed to where John stood. He looked utterly dumbfounded by the feather. John could see him sifting through the information he held on Molly as he tried to figure out what the meaning of her possibly oddest gift was. Finally John had to laugh. It was a rare thing that Sherlock was ever confounded or confused by anything. Sherlock narrowed his eyes.
"What?" he snapped. John made a huge effort to hold onto his mirth, and swallowing it down he merrily commented,
"You are so thick sometimes."
"What?" came the sharp reply. John shook his head in amused despair.
"Seriously Sherlock? You have all that brain and yet you haven't seen that which is staring you in the face." Sherlock smirked and the tables were then neatly turned.
"You mean that Molly wants to sleep with me." It wasn't even a question. It was a flat comment. Johns face dropped. God he was stupid. Trying to outwit Sherlock, what a dumb thing to do. John should have known that he'd been playing him all along. It was this evenings distraction to him. A game to stall the boredom.
"yes" John replied in an exasperated voice. He dropped the feather on the table along side the candles. Sherlock smiled. He gently reached to where the feather had dropped and picked it up in his long fingers, running it curiously through his other hand, cataloging it's texture, it's feeling, it's shape and structure. He felt his skin prickle at the soft touch. Curiously he turned his wrist and ran it down over that soft skin, echoing the path that a knife had once taken instead.
"So" he spoke in a gentle but darkened voice "what do you suppose she had in mind for me John?" John looked up catching Sherlocks eyes with his own. There was mischief in the detectives eyes.
"Not playing now Sherlock." he said through gritted teeth. A little spark of anger was flashing inside him. John was uncertain as to why. Probably Sherlocks deception, the way he played him so damned well. The ease at which he fell for it. Also he didn't like the new line the game was taking. He didn't want to sit and mock poor Molly all night. It made him feel injured that Sherlock had noticed her affection for him, but had never noticed... Sherlocks low cool voice interrupted these thoughts.
"John?" John looked up and saw the child that lay inside the man for a moment. Sherlocks faint worry that he had really upset John this time.
"Your careless Sherlock!" John stormed. He huffed off to the window to stare at the darkening sky, his back to the detective. "You care for no-ones feelings, just your own feelings of superiority."
Sherlock watched Johns back for several long moments. The feather turning distractedly against his palm as he twisted it in his fingers. Maybe that was guilt seeping through. The detectives brow furrowed a little. Maybe he always pushed John a little too far? Maybe he should know when to stop. But then he had never been good at judging that. Or maybe it was something else.. something that Sherlock had possibly seen in John. And Sherlock was afraid. What if he was wrong? For the first time in his life Sherlock couldn't trust that he was right. His heart pounded in his ears. Was he right?
He watched John's soft features reflected in the dark window. He couldn't tell if his companion was watching him back using the same trick. What he did know was that there was something more to this than John being upset about being outdone. He was used to that. Feelings of remorse welled up inside as he watched those beautiful eyes that gazed now sadly at something or nothing outside. Finally unable to take it anymore Sherlock strode to the window. The feather came with him. He stood almost against John's back. Felt the man's warmth seep into his own. Closing his eyes Sherlock repeated his previous words.
"John?"
"What?" snapped the reply.
"Look, I'm sorry. I only was only curious..." John folded his arms protectively.
"Curious of what? How Molly would try and seduce you?"
"No" came the slightly husky reply. John turned his head slightly in surprise at the strange sound in his friends voice.
"Then what?" was his wary reply. Sherlock took a long and shaky breath behind him. John felt it caress his neck inviting him to close his eyes and retreat into another land. But he didn't.
"What is it Sherlock?" John finally asked impatiently.
"I... I wanted to know.." Sherlocks voice was darker still now, there was a tremble in it and that husky sound was still there "I wanted to know.. how you would seduce me John." The words curled around John, it was like drowning in dark honey, and he instantly understood. It had been a question for him all along. Molly had been a cover. John now found that he couldn't move. He was rooted to the spot. But Sherlock heard all he needed. That tiny little gasp of pleasure as the detectives words settled about him. It was enough to tell him his deduction was correct and Sherlock could have wept with relief. Bending gently he whispered against the doctors ear,
"How would you seduce me John Watson? My John Watson." the feather trailed up and across Johns neck, the lightest stroke imaginable. And it set John on fire. He went to turn. To speak.
"Don't move" Sherlock murmured. "Look into the window." The feather twirled gently across Johns skin, over his ear. "Tell me John" Sherlocks voice was a dark rumble in his ear. "how would you seduce me... with Molly's little gifts." there was a low chuckle "I'm guessing this is not quite what SHE had in mind." John shivered. His breath started coming out in shorter bursts than normal.
"Sher..." Sherlocks lips against his ear stopped any thought's John had and the rest of the name was a whimper, followed by a breathless "more..." Sherlock paused, his wicked lips floating near but not on Johns neck.
"How John? Like this? Slow and sweet?" John groaned, his back pressing now into Sherlock, feeling the shape of his house-mates hip digging in against him. Sherlocks long fingers caressed along Johns jawbone, the feather flicked skillfully across the back of his neck. "Slow and sweet John..." Sherlock growled "does that work for you? The lightest touch and it sends your pulse-rate up... You breathing quickens..." Sherlocks voice caught "Your heart-rate becomes dangerous..."
"Oh god, Sherlock..." John moaned.
"John" Sherlock breathed, his tone had taking on a serious edge. "Promise me..." John groaned, Sherlocks mind distracting him from what he had begun.
"Yes?" he replied breathily,
"Promise me you'll not leave." John turned now to look into his companions cool blue eyes. He could see the fear hidden as deep as Sherlock could contain it, the uncertainty of what they were about to embark on and the softness that was only ever going to be for John. John swallowed hard as Sherlock searched his eyes.
"Promise me." John took a shaky breath.
"I promise." he felt a tear well up, but a smile on his lips. He gave a little laugh of realization. This was always where he was meant to be. "I promise you, Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, that I will NEVER leave you..." there was a pause as Sherlock searched John's face and eyes for any hint that he might be lying. A single tear brushed down Sherlocks pale cheek as his hand moved beneath John's chin to gently tilt his face upward, just as gently he leaned forward. The first kiss was a whisper. A feather being brushed against skin.
"There has never been anyone.." Sherlock almost whispered against John's lips. "..and there will never be any other that will know me like you do. Like you will." John felt Sherlock tremble, the lines of salt on each mans face mingled with the others. "I give myself to you John." John almost gasped. He felt as if an angel had come to him and told him how special he was. His eyes met Sherlocks and he saw the innocence that lay behind the facade. "Did you not know John?" Sherlock asked horsely "From the moment I saw you I was yours.." Pulling himself out of his almost dreamy stupor John lifted his hands to Sherlocks face and held him, gently wiping the tears away.
"It's okay..." John said, his lip trembling with the emotion he had suppressed for such a long time, and another silent tear joined the others. "It's okay... You see... I love you." Sherlocks eyes opened wide, and he smiled, what John could only perceive as, a humbled smile. John loved him. The detective could barely believe his own senses anymore. Reaching up to John's face Sherlock mirrored the other mans actions, stroking the tears softly away.
"How..." Sherlock spoke thickly around the lump in his throat and the swell in his heart "How.. long?" John smiled now, and it lit his eyes up, there was a little half chuckle.
"A while" was the soft reply. Sherlock pulled back a little to look John straight in the eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me?" his voice broke with another tear. John laughed.
"Why do you think Genius?" Sherlock smiled back at John and then grasped hold of his face. His own face stilled into seriousness.
"I uh..." Sherlock stumbled, bit his lip. John smiled encouragingly. "I have never.. kissed anyone, um, properly John. I apologize." John went to take breath, to tell Sherlock what an honor it was to be in such a situation but he didn't have time. Sherlocks mouth bumped his gently. Sherlocks hands ensuring John was going nowhere now, even if he wanted to, which he didn't. The detective curiously dusted kisses across John's lips. They gradually became more drawn out and John couldn't help but respond. He moaned a little, one hand moving to cup Sherlocks face the other to catch in his hair at the nape of his neck, pushing him in, as his own mouth moved in response to the other mans. John tried hard not to be demanding, to echo the tentative kiss, but the needles of heat shooting down his spine drove the kiss forward until finally he penetrated Sherlocks mouth with his tongue. Sherlock growled a low sound, his hands moving about John's head, stroking through his hair. Pulling him in closer. John responded in kind gripping Sherlocks curls in his hand. Sherlocks mouth was now as demanding as his own. His lips devoured John's with a passion John could never have imagined Sherlock having. Eventually they parted, panting, their heads leaning together, their hands still buried tightly in each others hair. The men's eyes met. Fire burned in Sherlocks, John become a reflection of a passion he never knew he had. Sherlocks mind raced, but made no sense now. Oh yes, this was a drug he could get used to.
"How would you seduce me John?" Sherlock growled huskily, coming back to the question that had bought them to this. John gave a grin. His hand slid from Sherlocks to brush across the contours of his face, over those cheekbones, to trace the bow of his lips.
"I don't think you need ME to seduce YOU Sherlock... I think you did quite well on that front yourself.."
To be continued...
SH.
Enlightened (2) -Slow and sweet.
This is continued from P1 - Molly's box. This is very explicit, contains M/M action, sex, Sherlock/John.
You have been warned. I have rated it for a reason. This is 18+.
Oh, it's quite long, got carried away.
..."How would you seduce me John?" Sherlock growled huskily, coming back to the question that had bought them to this. John gave a grin. His hand slid from Sherlocks to brush across the contours of his face, over those cheekbones, to trace the bow of his lips.
"I don't think you need ME to seduce YOU Sherlock... I think you did quite well on that front yourself.." ...
Sherlock chuckled a little at that. He stroked one hand softly under and against John's jaw, the other hand staying firmly in John's hair.
"So far..." he murmured his lips again engulfing John's, this time allowing himself to dominate the other man. His tongue penetrated Johns lips roughly, thrusting hard against his tongue, testing it's strength and agility. John responded in kind, a low growl coming deep from inside of him and escaping into his flat-mates mouth. Sherlock thought that to be utterly wonderful. Electric shocks ran down his spine to his groin and Sherlock realized just how exciting he found the situation to be. He'd had no idea, so this is what it was all about... A self depreciating smile ran onto his lips. Idiot.
John bit down gently on his bottom lip, pulling it between his teeth, the pressure gradually growing. Sherlocks hips literally jolted forwards of their own accord to press against Johns, both mens crotches coming in to contact with the others. John's eyes opened in surprise at the sudden pressure and hardness that was now pressing against his own. This was Sherlock...? He could barely believe it.
His surprise was expanded further still when he felt Sherlocks hand leave his jaw to skitter down his neck and back, leaving tracks of fire as he went. As Sherlocks hand touched his hip, roughly pulling the fabric of his jumper and shirt out of the way, to caress the soft skin beneath, John's legs buckled and his own hips jolted forward to press even more intimately at the curve of Sherlocks impressive erection. John's hands left Sherlocks hair to land hard against his chest. He maneuvered him with force over to the table, Sherlocks spine bumping it roughly as John reached his target. Now supported Sherlocks hands climbed up under John's clothing, his fingers clawing over the soft skin beneath. His mind trying to process the myriad of sensations set out before him. John's hands, still on Sherlocks hard flat chest, reached the buttons of his friends shirt. Pulling back out of the kiss and leaning out a little so that their eyes could meet. Sherlocks usually steely eyes where clouded with desire and looked deeply back into Johns. His pupils where blown wide as if he had taken one to many drugs. He had made a disappointed sound as John's lips had left his and John now gave a predatory smile and slowly unbuttoned the first button on Sherlocks shirt. Sherlock felt himself stiffen slightly as the first button popped. This was new, all so new. So much to process. But this was John. He was safe with John, he knew that. He would always be safe with John and John was his.
Another button went. John's fingers slipped gently across his skin down to the third, but it was then Sherlock found one of John's nipples. His fingers touched it gently and then grasped it. John gasped and Sherlock smiled, regaining the upper hand made him forget his fear. Jerking his other hand from Johns hair Sherlock took advantage of the fact that John was leaning away from him and pulled off John's jumper, throwing it into a far off corner. His own fingers then went to work on Johns shirt, the buttons popping quickly. John's breathing became quicker and his own hands mirrored the detectives actions, until finally Sherlocks white skin was in sight. John grasped Sherlock at the back of the neck, pulled him in for a bruising kiss, and then began kissing his way down his jawline to his neck. Sherlocks head went back, his patience with John's shirt spent he ripped the shirt apart, the remaining buttons hitting the floor loudly.
"That was a mistake..." John growled from Sherlocks neck, now biting hard into the other mans skin. Sherlocks breath came in gasps as the joyful pain joined the catalogue of other sensations.
"What... are you... going to... do about it...John?" Sherlock panted, the challenge deep in his voice.
"Oh you have no idea." John panted back, pulling Sherlock roughly by his wrist away from the table and dragging him over to the wall just next to Sherlocks bedroom door. He attempted to push him against it, but Sherlock was too quick. With an easy flick of his wrist he turned John around and slammed him against the wall instead. He gave a triumphant look and pressed himself hard against the army doctor, his hands caressing the smooth expanse of skin before him. He raised an eyebrow.
"What are you going to do about it John?" he again questioned sarcastically. John growled deep in his throat.
"This..." His lips met Sherlocks neck again, his sturdy doctors hands gliding up and over the hollow stomach caressing and exploring every inch of alabaster skin on the way to Sherlocks chest. His fingers drifting over and around Sherlocks nipples that were already as hard as stone, testing teasing. It dragged a groan out of Sherlock, a whimper of half despair, half joy. He pinched them both hard, felt Sherlocks legs buckle again and pressed home his advantage. Pushing Sherlock back he grabbed him once again by his wrist, kicked open the door beside him and pulled Sherlock into his own bedroom.
John liked Sherlocks bedroom. It smelt of gunpowder and aftershave and of Sherlock. There had been many a time that John, when alone in the house, had peeked in through the door just to inhale that scent for a moment. There had also been many a time when John had been alone upstairs in his bed that he wished he was here instead.
Brooking no refusal now John pushed Sherlock down on to the bed, falling along with him. Sherlocks eyes met his and John saw the tiny glint of fear held within them. Gently now John maneuvered Sherlock and himself into a comftable position. Sherlock gazed up into John's eyes as he lay beneath him, John kneeling either side of his hips in an upright position watching Sherlock carefully. The question was on the doctors lips. Was Sherlock sure this was what he wanted? But Sherlock, as always, beat him to it. As his hand reached up to caress Johns face he whispered to the other man.
"Yes John. I trust you.." John smiled down on him, brushing a hand tenderly through his tousled hair. "I... I want this John... I want you..." A little smile came to Sherlocks lips as he pressed his hips suddenly upward. "Can't you tell?" John gasped at the contact and then gave the smile of a man that had just been given the greatest gift ever. He pressed his own crotch down against he detectives and grinned.
"Really Sherlock?" it was a question, but came out as a lustful growl, Sherlock smiled, his eyes wide and honest and beautiful. He moaned,
"Yesssss... John... God yes." and John Watsons mouth was back on his. His tongue pushing past Sherlocks lips, to curve around and under them sensually. Sherlocks tongue got caught up and he pushed the other mans back, trying once again to dominate him. Johns hands grasped Sherlocks hips firmly, his fingers tracing the line of bone. Sherlocks hips shot upward once again and John whimpered as his friends erection rubbed firmly against his own. Sherlock grinding glorious friction, his hands tangling in Johns hair, pulling him closer still, his mouth frantic against Johns own. John reached down between them and cautiously ran the flat of his palm against the bulge in Sherlocks tight trousers. The noise Sherlock made was so utterly delicious, that Johns heart missed several beats and he ran his hand more firmly across the same spot.
Sherlock was surprised to find himself practically purring into Johns sweet mouth. Everything John did was a new experience. Indeed almost everything he was doing back was new to him, his head span with the joy and confusion of it all. All the maps and tables and equations were wiped from his mind. Every case he'd ever solved or ever looked at was all pushed aside.. for this man. The wonderful, glorious John Watson. All he saw and felt was John. Every touch sent shocks down his spine to skitter into his groin, his excitement growing constantly.
"Your married to your work..." something far back in his brain reminded him. "John is my work.." he contradicted himself.
He felt Johns gentle doctors hands begin to undo the catch and fly of his trousers and Sherlock found himself, oddly, on auto-response. His hands slid down out of his friends soft hair, over his shoulders, to linger momentarily at the scar John had picked up during the war, then onward down to his hips. Sherlocks thumbs gently slid beneath the waistline of the other mans jeans, to caress the untouched skin. John moaned deep in his chest. He pulled back to look into Sherlocks face. His big blue eyes serious and loving. Sherlock smiled a little. He appreciated that John was giving him time and space to back off if he should need to. But no, he didn't need to. Didn't want to.
Not breaking eye contact Sherlock drew his thumbs around and across Johns hips, drawing a line beneath the material until he reached Johns fly. His hands paused. He wetted his lips. His fingers skittered across the firm, flat stomach to pull a tortured groan from the doctor.
"tease..." He whispered through gritted teeth. Sherlock popped Johns fly on the word, struggled the zip down, pushed at the edges of the thick material, forcing it down and off Johns hips and legs. The doctor helped himself struggle free, throwing the jeans away off the bed and then gasped as Sherlocks long, pale fingers traced the curve of his cock through his boxers. His eyes held a fascinated look. John had to smile. Right then Sherlock. Two can play that game.
Batting Sherlocks hands away from him briefly John shoved the smooth trousers the detective wore down over his hips, forcing him to lift so John could briefly skitter his own hands over the muscle of Sherlocks buttocks and then push the trousers off his friends legs. They joined his jeans on the floor. The doctor then took a moment to enjoy the sight before him.
Sherlock, on his back, almost naked, willing and wanting. Johns hands gently slipped down over Sherlocks chest, up to his jaw, to hold his face in both of his hands tenderly. Sherlock looked back at him and John was surprised to see the same tenderness echoed deep within those steel grey eyes. Leaning close, the doctor kissed his insane, beautiful friend gently. Sherlock followed his lead, gently kissing his way across Johns mouth, down across his jawline and neck, to nuzzle there a moment. He then gently pressed John up and sat up with him, curling him into a warm embrace. Johns own arms curved up and around Sherlocks back, his fingers gently tracing the muscle there, to hold him tightly. They stayed like that for more then a minute, and John began to wonder if maybe this was as far as it would go for now. His erection strained, god he hoped not.
Sherlock almost heard the thought, maybe had the same thought. No, no John. A wicked smile began. John felt it against his shoulder and he giggled a little. Sherlock pulled himself up to look John square in the face. He had to tease. Just a little.
"Do you think I'm done John?" he goaded. John dropped his eyes and gave a sad little smile.
"It...it's fine Sherlock... I understand. You need to take your time... it's all new..." the doctor swallowed hard "for.. for both of us if I'm being honest..." Sherlock shifted his legs so that he was kneeling as well. His knees either side of Johns. This was all about planning. He saw Johns mind whirring, processing that it meant that he was going to move any minute now. Leave him hanging, and then Sherlock chuckled. It was a deeply lustful sound. Johns eyes flew to Sherlocks, took in that wicked grin.
"You really think I'm done?" the detective repeated playfully. John opened his mouth to answer but had no chance. Sherlocks mouth was back on his, his tongue slipping over his lips, slicking across his tongue as Sherlock shoved John back on the bed and straddled him. His hands ran down and across Johns shoulders, over his chest. Leaving Johns mouth Sherlocks tongue lapped gently at the doctors neck and then at the ugly scar on his shoulder. Sherlock was fascinated by the scar, it required closer inspection, but for now he had other fascinating things to explore. Oh so slowly ran his tongue down and over one of Johns erect nipples. He bit gently, remembering something he had read on the internet. John whimpered in excitement and his hips shot upward, reminding Sherlock of the hardness between both of their legs. Skittering his tongue over the downy hair on Johns chest, he gave the other nipple the same treatment.
Johns hands were running over Sherlocks back, dipping down towards his tight buttocks. His head was thrown back against the bed and his cock was now throbbing all the harder for Sherlocks little game. He felt Sherlocks mouth on his stomach, drawing lazy circles with his tongue. Creeping lower. Would Sherlock..? Johns cock twitched at the thought of Sherlocks lips wrapped around it. Sherlock chuckled, noticing. His hands ran up the inside of Johns thighs causing a delicious shiver and another twitch. Caressing gently Sherlock moved his hands all around and over Johns boxers, close but never touching the prize inside. Johns breathing was shallow and rapid he felt that he would explode if Sherlock didn't touch him soon. And then Sherlocks fingers were in the waistband of the doctors underwear, peeling them away very, very gently.
His own followed. Screw it, it would save time later and John looked on the edge of reason. No time like the present.
"John" Sherlock groaned, taking in the sight of the doctor. His doctor. His John Watson. "John, look at me" John opened his eyes and lifted his head. Sherlock sat above him, his eyes clouded with desire, his cock now proudly free and sitting in front of him, just a little above the doctors own. There was a shiver of a response. A gasp.
"You did this John." Sherlocks voice was low and dark, as he gazed across his friend, taking in every muscle, the sweet flush across his chest, the downy hair that led to Johns own heaven and he sighed out in pleasure. "It is all for you. You did this to me.. Only you John Watson." Johns eyes opened wide and with that look burned in his heart, Sherlock dipped down his head and gently pressed his lips against Johns cock. John flung his head back against the bed and gripped hard at Sherlocks hips, a long moan was torn deep from within him. Sherlock shifted a little, moving down Johns legs so he could work on this new task comfortably. His tongue curiously ran over the tip of Johns cock, tasting the doctor for the first time. Salt and chemicals and masculine heat.. Oh, John. The detective in turn moaned a little at the pure pleasure of the taste, licking slowly, gently, curiously.
His ministrations where driving John to distraction. His eyes rolled back in his head as Sherlocks hot tongue lapped at his already throbbing cock. His hips thrust upwards and his hands moved to tangle in Sherlocks soft curls. John tried desperately to allow Sherlock his own pace, not to force the issue, but as Sherlocks lips wrapped fully around him to suck gently, his tongue rolling over and across the head, Johns hands tightened in that thick dark hair, and he thrust. Sherlock made a humming noise at this. A groan of desire. it was all quite exquisite.
John eventually had to pull Sherlocks head gently back, his self control threatening to break with every flick of that amazingly clever tongue. Sherlocks eyes were wide and, as John lifted his head to look at him, he gazed at John with a strange innocence. His head tipped in question. More?
Oh, god, yes. John wanted more, but he wanted Sherlock to experience all he had to offer him. This being his first time, John wanted to make it glorious for his friend. His lover.
"Sherlock..." John groaned "if you... if you keep doing that then.." he trailed off, a meaningful smile on his face. Sherlock crawled back up Johns body gently to lay almost on top of him, his lips gently embracing the doctors. Johns hands slid down and over Sherlocks smooth skin, exploring the backs of his thighs, up to his beautiful arse and around to brush the end of his erection. Sherlock gasped and stiffened. John quickly and carefully rolled his friend off him and so he lay back once again on the bed.
"Let me look at you for a moment..." John whispered, just gazing in wonder at what was laid out before him. Sherlock smiled, a faint blush coloring his cheeks adorably, as John drank in the sight of him. John smiled.
"Stay right there" he said suddenly, zipping off the bed and out the door. He returned a moment later with the box Molly had sent. Sherlock rolled on his side to eye the doctor curiously. Dimming the lights and dumping the box on the floor, John placed the candles Molly had sent on Sherlocks nightstand.
"Lighter?" he asked quickly. Sherlock gave a lazy grin and nodded towards the draw beneath the bed-stand. John reached in, and avoiding the hidden pack of cigarettes within (with a slight shake of his head), he found a lighter and lit the candles quickly. Reaching briefly back into the box he withdrew the feather that had began all of this and the oil Molly had kindly provided. If things went as he planned John thought it might come in handy. It wasn't as if he had planned for such an eventuality. Sherlock eyed it curiously as John slipped back on the bed.
Gently John pushed the consulting detective back on his back and then straddled him. Stroking his hair gently he kissed him, and then breathed against his ear.
"Sherlock... this is new.. for you. Therefore if you want me to stop just tell me, but I want to make you feel... feel everything that I can make you feel. I want you to feel wonderful... and glorious, I don't want ... I don't want it to be like my.. first time." He drew back to look in Sherlocks eyes. They were swimming. "I want us to be... amazing. Because this is it for me now Sherlock." Johns voice took on a firmer tone "I love you and will love no-one else again." Sherlock gazed up at him, processing everything slowly. Another tear broke and Sherlock grabbed John to him, pulled him against him, to hold him tightly.
"I love you John..." he replied against the doctors shoulder "thank-you and yes I will... but... I'm sure I won't need to..." his last words held an assurance as his mouth pressed to Johns passionately. Pulling back for one more moment, to look into Johns face, Sherlock smiled. "Now please John. Would you just deal with this damn thing now!" to illustrate his point the detectives hips bucked upward, to push his hardness against the doctor. John grinned, the upper hand so utterly gained.
"All in good time." his mouth suppressing the groan of need that escaped the detectives lips. Keeping one hand in Sherlocks hairs and his tongue deep in his mouth John reached across to the feather. He stroked it just once across Sherlocks hairless white chest. Felt him shiver. Pulling out of kiss the doctor up-righted himself and began drawing lazy circles across Sherlocks skin. Over his collar bone, slipping across his hardening nipples, back up and over his neck. Sherlock watched for a moment and then was lost to the sensation and his eyes fluttered closed blissfully. John had to give it to Molly, she knew how to gradually heighten sensitivity. Johns mouth went to Sherlocks neck and re-tracing the line of the feather he kissed his way down, across collar bone, to end on Sherlocks left nipple. He flicked it with his tongue. The detective moaned beneath him, John bit gently at the hard point of sensitive skin. Sherlock hissed. John went to move away but Sherlocks hand landed on his neck.
"Harder John. More." John blinked, considered and then accepted, biting harder. Sherlock groaned in utter bliss at the sinful pain echoing through his body. John's mouth moved to Sherlocks right nipple and did the same to that, while his other hand pinched at his left. Sherlock threw his head back into the soft covers. He writhed beneath John, his hips once again bumping upward with need. His breathing coming in pants. And just when Sherlock was unsure how this pleasure could be outdone he felt Johns fingers run once over the wet head of his cock. Sherlock bucked. John smiled, still kissing his way down towards the prize, the thing only he could have, the doctor felt his own cock throbbing in response.
As the doctors lips brushed the tip of his cock Sherlock groaned incredulously. Every muscle in his body stiffened in response to the first brush of pleasure. His head pushed back deeper in the bed-clothes, his hands caressed Johns shoulders and then gripped hard, his nails scraping sweet pain down them. Johns tongue began its work. Sherlock tasted of chemical elements, almost as John imagined he would. Iron and salt sweetness assailed the doctors taste buds as he drew his tongue slowly across and around the head of the detectives cock. Sherlock was moaning sensually, a sound that was utterly delicious and so compelling. John took Sherlock now between his lips, deep into his hot mouth, sucking gently, lightly flipping his tongue with expert precision to pull more exquisite moans from the detective beneath him. Very gently the doctor pushed Sherlocks thighs further apart so that he was able to shift and kneel between them. His hands gently caressed the heavy balls that sat beneath the long curving cock in his mouth. Sherlocks hips jerked upward and said cock touched the back of Johns throat. John didn't mind, in fact he allowed himself to take Sherlock further in, the moan building up in Johns lungs escaping as Sherlocks hands grabbed hold of his head and held him tightly. As Johns tongue stroked the line on the underside of Sherlocks cock he felt the detectives balls raise further up. A tremble. Pulling back gently, not stopping but slowing the conclusion, Johns fingers slid down to Sherlocks perineum to press gently, to stroke as he drew his mouth back to only allow his tongue to once again lap at the head of Sherlocks iron hard erection. Sherlock made a long, frustrated keening noise, his hands still tangling in Johns hair, trying to force him in the completion of the task at hand. No, not yet Sherlock. John had more to give, more to show him, more to teach. Not stopping his ministrations Johns fingers slid lower down between Sherlocks spread buttocks, to circle one finger gently around the tight, virgin entrance nestled between them. He heard the others mans gasp. A hiss of pleasure as his massive brain tried to process this new pleasure. Fumbling with his other hand, somewhat blindly, due to the fact that his lips were still against Sherlocks cock, John found the nightstand and then the oil he had carefully placed upon it. John managed to unscrew the cap awkwardly and withdrawing his other hand briefly he cover two of his fingers with it. Putting the bottle carefully aside for later Johns fingers returned to gently caressing around the edges of Sherlocks tight, pink knot-hole. Stopping his gently lapping at the erection in front of him, John forced his head back up to look at Sherlock. The man in front of him was gasping for air, pulling apart at the seams, John could see him muttering under his breath, most of it nonsense, but within it Johns name.
"Sherlock" John said horsely, his fingers still slipping between the detectives buttocks. Sherlocks eyes opened and he raised his head a little. His hair wild, his face flushed, his eyes clouded and dark with new found passion.
"John" came a baritone moan. John smiled a little.
"Is this OK Sherlock? I know you said it would be, but I want to check. I want to know..." Sherlocks eyes rolled upwards and a breathless laugh escaped his lips.
"Oh god John.. Yes.. I am yours John. Do as you will. Show me all the dark pleasures you have to offer me, for I find..." he paused and grinned "I find myself becoming quite addicted..." His sentence finished on a moan as John allowed the tip of his finger to penetrate the consulting detective. "Oh yeeeesssss..." John smiled as Sherlocks head flew back onto the bed, his legs shifting wider in encouragement, his moans of "more" echoing the sentiment. John gently eased his finger past Sherlocks defenses, his own cock twitching as Sherlock tightened against the intruding digit. As his knuckle slipped in the detective moaned and gripped at the covers beneath him. John gently began to lick at Sherlocks twitching cock, whilst crooking his finger to hit Sherlocks prostate. Sherlock bucked upward, as the doctor gently massaged that sweet spot inside him, then drawing back and moving in to ease the tight passage and finally pushing another finger in to aid the others exploration. Sherlocks head, amazingly, raised up to look at John. He groaned his lovers name. John lifted his head.
"Oh god John. Is this what... I... Oh god John. Will you... " Sherlocks eyes were begging John for more, more of the sensation inside him. He was buzzing from head to toe, but he needed release. "Will you..." a seriousness passed briefly into his eyes so John knew he was for real "Will you take me John? I want you... John. I want you to.. take my..." His breaths heavy and labored "..virginity." he managed, his head collapsing back against the bed. John, pulled his fingers back and out and gently crawled up Sherlocks body. The man was shaking beneath him. Laying kisses against his mouth and face and eyelids John whispered,
"Your sure... because we have all the time in the world Sherlock... I'm in this for the long haul now... and I..." Sherlocks eyes opened, the mist upon them clearing and so he could look the doctor clearly in the eye. The detective gripped the other mans head and kissed him passionately, his other hand wandering to Johns cock to stroke it firmly. Pulling his head back Sherlock clearly and concisely said,
"I have never been more sure John. I want you. You drive.. have driven me to distraction for so long. I have thought of this moment for a long time and decided long ago that if this ever happened then I would want you to do this for me. I want to be able to give you this as a gift. I have never been kind or good to you John Watson. Let me be now." a grin lit up his face "in any case if you don't I don't know what the two of us are going to do... I find we are in quite a predicament..." John laughed along with his best friend. His lover. His love. Kissed him and nodded, his hand gripping Sherlocks erection as the other man did his.
"Okay." John said, as Sherlocks eyes took on the dreamy dazed look again, and pulling Sherlocks hand off his cock John grabbed the oil on the nightstand, gently re-oiled Sherlock, inserting an extra finger, to groans of satisfaction. He then told Sherlock to open the hand so he could drip the oil into it. Sherlock instantly understood and stroked Johns cock again in strong, fluid motions, coating in fully. John put the oil away and gently kissed Sherlocks mouth. His cock now lay against the other mans, and each of them could feel the throbbing energy that threatened to overspill at any time. Drawing back John placed the head of his cock against Sherlocks virgin entrance.
"Are you ready?" John asked. Sherlock bit his lip, tried not to tense. He had read enough about what to do at these moments.
"Yes John" he whispered, the fear flashing slightly in his wide lustful eyes. "Take me John." John gently pressed forth, he felt the muscle go fairly easily due to his generous attention. That was good, he hoped not to hurt Sherlock. He held himself like that for a moment, allowing the muscle to stretch and Sherlock to adjust. Watching the detectives face carefully he pressed home very, very slowly.
Sherlock felt like he was being filled up. And, oh, filled by John. Owned by John. It was an incredible sensation. A little pain, but this was good pain... the kind of pain he had always craved, but had never known about. His cock reared up and the blood pumped harder into it. It was all such a rush.
"Yeeeeessssss John..." he hissed "Oh god John yes." Johns cock came to a slow stop. The two men, panting hard, rested for a moment. Sherlock opened his eyes to look at John. He gave a smile and whispered "thank-you". John gently caressed a hand over his collar bone and jaw, mouthing the words back, before pulling back and oh so slowly pushing forwards again. Sherlocks hips shot up and as John continued his slow push and pull Sherlock joined the rhythm mindlessly. Gloriously. Johns hand milked Sherlocks cock in time to the rhythm he had set, the pace increasing by degrees as the doctor tried his best to hit Sherlocks prostate and not to come too soon. The noise Sherlock was making was enough to drive any man mad. Eventually, as their heartbeats increased, their blood rushed and their breaths burst, John felt himself about to go. He glanced up at Sherlock, whose nails scrapeing down his back were only adding to his downfall. Sherlocks eyes were tight shut and he was speaking utter nonsense to the room. To John.
"Sherlock..." John moaned "I'm going over the edge. Come with me my love. Fall with me." Sherlocks eyes opened, his struggle with his own self-control evident. Pulling John down down a kiss, he gave a small self-depreciating smile.
"Burn with me John." he said and then moaned. His forehead pressed against the doctors, his lips slightly open, his eyes now tightly closed and then John felt him spasm, his sphincter tightened around Johns cock, and Sherlock was coming hard in Johns hand, whispering his name over and over.
"I love you John Watson. John, oh, John. My John..." and that was enough. John fell with him, coming deep inside Sherlock, John moaning nonsense against his lovers shoulder and calling out his name. Finally they collapsed together, arms wrapping each other up. John staying inside Sherlock for a long time, kissing his face and caressing his hair, until finally he had to pull out. Rolling off the detective, whose eyes were still closed in rapture from the sensations that had for the last hour assailed his senses, John reached across and took his hand. Sherlock eyes fluttered open dreamily and then squeezed the doctors hand back.
"All good?" John asked, pulling the covers over himself and Sherlock, the clear-up could wait 'til morning now. Sherlock turned his head and kissed John gently and dreamily on the lips. Turning on his side his snuggled up to his lover and lay his curls on the wound on his shoulder.
"Oh yes John." Sherlock said, still buzzing, but ready to sleep forever. Curling up against his doctor, Sherlocks eyes fluttered. "I love you John." he muttered as he fell to sleep. John smiled down at his detective. His Sherlock Holmes. So innocent in sleep. Kissing his head John whispered the words back and then smiled contentedly as he joined Sherlock in his dreams.