Chapter1: 221 B BAKER STREET 08:32 h Sherlock's bed
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, BBC, or Moffat. They own me.
Sherlock lay on top of John. Now that was something different. John chuckled quietly, but soon stopped, grimacing to himself due to an immense headache.
He had somehow managed to get Sherlock into a bar last night and was still wondering how the hell that could have possibly happened.
The pompous arse never even got near to a bar and drinking wasn't especially his favourite thing to do either. In fact, Sherlock never drank and whenever other people drank he just sneered at them and their idiocy. Fortunately, John always pulled Sherlock aside as quickly as possible, making it unbelievably hard for Sherlock to insult the drinkers or to embarrass them. Good for one, bad for the other.
But what event had caused Sherlock to change his mind over this? It must have been an important one, of that he was sure. Sherlock never easily gave up his principles. If he gave them up at all.
After a few moments of pondering, he still had no idea. The last evening was still a bit of a blur and it didn't make the impression that the fog would clear anytime soon. The only thing he could remember though was Sherlock lulling and singing like a lunatic. It was still a mystery how a man, who normally didn't spend his time on such "utterly idiotic nonsense", could remember all the lines of "Highway to Hell" and "Just give me a reason" flawlessly. He had to investigate on that furthermore.
And he also remembered how Sherlock had shaken his head to the rhythm, making his unruly curls bounce up and down with the music, looking incredibly cute. Wait, what the frick had he just thought? NO, no, this was wrong. He wasn't attracted to men; it was unnatural, hateful really. He had learned as much from his father, gay was wrong. And he most definitely wanted it to stay that way.
But then there was Sherlock's voice, which seemed to have other plans, murmuring deeply in his sleep right then and after some time muttering John's name, sending shivers down his spine. He wished it would all stop.
But to his defence, everybody (if gay or not) could find something at least mildly attractive about Sherlock's voice. At least John told himself so.
John sighed and tried to shuffle out of Sherlock's grip, but that only caused the detective hold on tighter, like a little boy holding onto a teddy-bear. A grumpy one at that. So John made the decision to solely wait and see. He would like to see Sherlock's reaction to this incident.
If he normally cringed even if barely hearing of the word "touch", then how would his reaction be to this? At one point he was sure, it would certainly be interesting.
John tried to snuggle into Sherlock's arms again and succeeded after only a short time. He felt safe and comfy in Sherlock's arms, naturally in an incredibly heterosexual way. So now he just had to kill the time until Sherlock woke up. It could take a long while though, if he recalled the last time Sherlock had slept properly.
Sherlock woke up and instantly wanted to fall asleep again, right on the spot. His head felt like a bomb, exploding every ten seconds and everything sounded just a tad bit too loud. He felt like in rehab... was he in rehab? Had he taken drugs again? Hopefully not! Oh god, John definitely wouldn't approve! Not to mention Mycroft, he would go riot.
He opened his eyes only slightly, adjusted them to the light and glared sheepishly at what he was clinging onto. And then he remembered.
What Sherlock did next was something that John certainly didn't see coming. Sherlock kissed him on the cheek. "Good morning John, have you missed me while you were sleeping?" he said smugly, while John was too stunned to answer and afterwards added, "I think I'm going to be able to make that up for you", trailing kisses all over John, finishing with his mouth.
Did I mention that they were naked? John hadn't noticed before either, but it became painfully evident to John, who's certain body part was forming quite an impressive bulge in the sheet. Sherlock took that as a yes to continue, but was harshly interrupted by none other than John himself, who was fuming. And still had no clue as to what the hell had happened.
"What the hell Sherlock?" he managed to say and let out a shaky breath. This really wasn't what he expected to happen, at all! A tiny fragment of his heart had skipped when Sherlock had kissed him, but the other part screamed "nooooo!" loudly, as if the world had just gone down and the pair of them with it.
Well, this was nothing but close to it. But what had encouraged Sherlock to do this? Was he joking or someth...
And then his mind made click.
And oh... fuck ! (the fuck may be interpreted any way you want)