AN: My first none M rated fanfiction. Written in five minutes for a cool person on tumblr. woohoo.
It was a typical morning at 221B Baker St.
"John, I need those cigarettes," Sherlock growled.
"Put on another patch," John mumbled, setting down the newspaper, "there is no way I'm giving you back your cigarettes, not when you have been doing so well. Would you like me to make you a cup of tea?"
"No, I don't want the BLOODY TEA, I want my cigarettes and if you aren't going to give them to me, I will simply have to go out and get them myself." Sherlock stood up from his place at the table and made his way to his coat, placing his hand in the pocket to find it to be empty.
"John, where is my wallet?"
"I don't know, Sherlock," John said with a sly grin, "you must have misplaced it."
"I don't misplace things, John, now give me the wallet."
John stood up to pour himself another cup of coffee. "I'm telling you, I don't know where it is."
Two hands placed themselves on either side of John, trapping him against the counter. John set his mug down and attempted to turn around but Sherlock kept his grip and pressed against the former army doctor to keep him from doing so.
"Are you sure, Doctor Watson?" Sherlock's voice came out as a purr. John swallowed and ceased his squirming. "John, give me my wallet or my cigarettes this instance."
With a sigh John said, "Or what, Sherlock?"
The detective's rumbling chuckle was the only answer John received before a pair of soft lips met his neck. Sherlock began nipping and licking away at the doctor's sensitive skin. John groaned and attempted to shrug off the man behind him.
"You know I have to go to work, Sherlock, I don't have the time for this," Watson said quietly.
"You told me last week that I need something to distract me from my bad habits, did you not?" Sherlock asked as he continued to abuse the doctors neck. "We've already solved three cases in that time and I went through a dozen patch at the least-"
"Wait, you said you've only gone through three."
Sherlock raised his head so his lips were at John's ear. "Yes, well, I said that four times, didn't I?"
John breathed a laugh. "What's your point, Sherlock?"
"My point, my dear Watson, is that I found something to distract me."
"And what's that?"
"You." With that, the detective rested his hand on the side of John's face and pulled him into a kiss. They had kissed many times before but John noticed something unique about this particular one. There was something peculiar about the ferociousness from Sherlock's part. And then John realized: he was needy. Sherlock had never been the needy one between the two of them, never the one to beg when they were entangled between the sheets. John always broke first, pleading for Sherlock to pleasure him. But now, the great consulting detective was the one begging. Without words, but begging none the less.
John finally managed to turn, wrapping his arms around the taller man's neck, pressing their bodies against one another. Sherlock moaned into the kiss as the doctor sucked on his lower lip. The detective dragged his hands down John's back until he reached the end of his jumper. Tenderly, his fingers tugged on the fabric and the two separated momentarily so that John could pull it off along with his shirt. Once bare chested, the shorter man began undoing the buttons on Sherlock's shirt as their lips locked once more.
When they pulled away with bruised lips, panting heavily, the couple's eyes met instantaneously.
Sherlock spoke first.
"Bedroom?"
"Oh God, yes."