The first night after The Pool was odd in some ways and quite usual in others. The usual part came with the fact that both Sherlock and John sat on the sofa eating their delivered take away from Angelo's. The unusual bit was the fact that they were not relaxed like they were when a case ended on a fairly good note for example running across rooftops to catch a criminal.
Even if Sherlock wouldn't admit it the case had taken his toll on him. Seeing John strapped to a bomb had deeply unsettled him and he was very reluctant to let the Doctor out of his sight since he felt that he need to be there so that he could protect him. It was not a logical thing because John was a former member of the army and that provided him with a certain skill set. But the thing was that Moriarty had gotten to him. John mattered and without his permission his mind started picturing scenarios where John was gone from his life and he felt his breath hitch at the thought.
John for his part was less concerned about the fact that he had been kidnapped by a madman. It wasn't that he was suicidal or anything but it wasn't the first time that he had been kidnapped so he had built up a kind of tolerance to it as horrible as it sounded. No John's main concern was that for all of Sherlock's intelligence the man could be an absolute moron. It scared him to picture a life where one of Sherlock's crazy plans ended his life and John was left to live alone. Losing Sherlock would be like losing a leg, he could live without it but his quality of life would be completely shot. That scared him, the fact that Sherlock in all his insanity had come to hold so much power over him. It scared him that if he left Sherlock to his own devices that the man might be ripped from his life. Lost in thought as he was he almost missed the hitch in the breathing of the man next to him.
Looking over he saw Sherlock's face and the emotion displayed there scared him. He realized that he wasn't the only one affected by this in an overly emotional manner. Sherlock had thought that he was betrayed for he had seen the look when he came out in the bomb overlaid by the green parka. Then right after that he had, had to imagine what it would be like if he survived and John didn't. John remembered the first time he had lost a friend in combat and he knew that the emotion was amplified by the fact that he was one of the few people that Sherlock actually called friend and the man was not used to strong emotions and John had the sudden fear that Sherlock would kick him out so that he never had to feel this way again.
With a shaking hand he put down the food that he held due to a loss of appetite. Then he turned the telly off. Neither of them was watching it and he had a feeling that they needed to talk without distraction.
"Sherlock?" John asked.
Sherlock jumped at the sound of John's voice. He studied John. Not to find answers but to find comfort. John was ever so easy to read and he found so much comfort in that. The man was obviously worried about him but there was also fear to be seen there.
"What are you afraid of?" He asked bypassing the question that John had asked simply by stating his name he knew that the fear had something to do with him but further than that he couldn't fathom.
John saw or sensed something and answered the question with another question. "Are you going to throw me out?" He asked.
This was not what Sherlock had expected so he had to wonder if that was what John wanted. He wondered if that latest brush with death was the straw that broke their relationship.
"I don't want to leave; it's just that I know how much you like not to embrace emotions and I saw you emotional tonight. It was my fault and if it wasn't for me then…"
"Then I would be dead" Sherlock finished in a matter-of-fact tone all the while being relived that John didn't want to leave and likewise John was pleased that Sherlock wanted him to stay. Somehow that said everything that needed to be conveyed and they smiled at one another.
John turned back on the telly and they finished their slightly cool food in companionable silence. Half of an hour later due to a combination of mental and physical exhaustion coupled with mind-numbingly boring telly they were asleep side by side on the sofa.
When the two of them woke they found that somehow though they had been on opposite ends of the couch last night they had somehow shifted to rest shoulder to shoulder in their sleep. It wasn't a big deal it was just slightly odd but considering what they did on the day-to-day basis was odd neither of them paid it any mind and went about their day.
John had work that afternoon so Sherlock simply did a few experiments. He was still a bit tired from the case so the experiments were not overly elaborate and he figured that he should take a nap afterwards seeing as he had almost ruined the experiment due to the fact that he was yawning hard enough to make his eyes water.
It was only as he threw himself upon the sofa for a nap that he felt weird as though there was something missing. He was too tired to analyze it though so he put the thought away and allowed himself to fall asleep… only to awaken a hour later from a nightmare where John had died at The Pool and he had lived. He found himself sweating and more tired than when he had fallen asleep. But that wasn't what mattered he need John. He needed to see that John was okay. The dream had been so vivid that until he saw John with his own eyes he would be unable to function
Luckily John returned only moments after that due to the fact that it was a slow day at work and with a sigh he pretended to be his normal self as it would not do to worry John.
That night John fell asleep only to awaken due to a wonky mixture of the Pool and combat in Afghanistan. The blended dream had him trying fruitlessly to save Sherlock after an explosion. The whole time he was plagued by the knowledge that he was unable to save him. Luckily he was able to avoid screaming but he knew that he wouldn't sleep again that night. Luckily he wasn't expected at work unless there was a surplus of patients so he booted up his laptop and surfed the web.
Sherlock was downstairs abusing fruit in the name of science. He was a little tired because he hadn't got in his usual hours of sleep that he needed post case but he didn't want to sleep so the pushed the thought away.
The next morning both occupants of 221B were sluggish. They were momentarily reenergized by a small case that took just a day to solve but so tired afterward that they both retreated to their rooms to get some sleep only to be plagued with nightmares.
John was ashamed of himself. This fear was out of control. This need to know that Sherlock was safe and sound was ridiculous. But he was just so very tired. Grabbing a pillow and a sheet he made his way downstairs to ask his flatmate for a favor that would shame him to his dying day but he was not Sherlock he couldn't survive without sleep for more than a day when he was already tired to begin with.
When John got to Sherlock's door he heard sounds from within that startled him. Quietly he opened the door to find Sherlock trashing in his bed fear evident on his face and it was at that moment the doctor realized that perhaps he wasn't the only one that needed reassurance.
"Sherlock." He said shaking the man as he tried to wake him from whatever imagined horror his brain had conjured up. "Wake up" he said shaking him harder until those mercurial eyes opened and connected with his own.
"John," the man breathed telling John that the man had been having a nightmare of the recent experience they had, had. "What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I… um," he coughed with embarrassment deciding to spit it out. "I had a nightmare and I needed to know that you were okay."
"You want to sleep here." The genius stated noticing the bedding in John's hand.
"On the floor." John said with a blush.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and grabbed John's hand and yanked it downward. The motion threw him off-balance and he tumbled into the bed of Sherlock Homles. Sherlock grabbed the sheet from John and threw it across the room. He allowed the pillow to stay as he tucked his own sheet around John poking and prodding the man to get it just right.
"What are you doing?" John asked in shock.
"John you are not an idiot, please stop acting like one."
"But," the blond began to protest.
"John we both need this to get adequate rest and since the bed is sufficiently sized to fit us both it is preposterous that you would have to sleep on the floor. Rest assured I won't take advantage of you so go to sleep."
John spluttered wanting to say something but he didn't know what. In any case it should be Sherlock being reassured that John wouldn't steal his virtue but it wasn't like he could say that. So he snapped his mouth shut and scooted to the end of the bed so that Sherlock had a lot of room and they weren't touching at all.
Sherlock was having none of that. He looped his arm around John and pulled him close so that they were in the middle of the bed. "Is my presence that undesirable?" he found himself asking with a surprising amount of vulnerability.
John shook his head. "No I'm just being an idiot. It's fine. You're right we need this." He shakily moved closer an arm over Sherlock's waist while tucking his head near the man's chest reassured by Sherlock's steady heartbeat that they were fine.
Waking up to Sherlock Holmes is an experience that John wondered if he was unique to having. Sherlock didn't seem like he had been the type to climb into his parents bed as a child and If Sherlock had engaged some of that primal human urges John would bet that he probably was one of those people they just left after the act not out of inconsideration but because he would be bored when it was over. Somehow they had become further entangled in night and he sighed wondering how long he would need this. He hoped it wasn't long because while he needed sleep every night Sherlock didn't and having to ask Sherlock to lay with him just to stave of nightmares was something that he didn't think that he could do.
"Shut up John," Sherlock groaned.
John poked him in the stomach. How dare the berk reprimand him for thinking.
Sherlock's look of startled surprise was one that had John laughing until he felt one of Sherlock's long digits poke him in the side and he barked out a laugh for a different reason.
Smirking Sherlock repeated the action causing John to squirm due to the fact that he was extremely ticklish. Not to be out done John took to tickling Sherlock as well giving as good as he got.
"St.. st..op!" John cried breathlessly.
"You!" Sherlock choked out just as breathlessly.
"Gotta… pee!" John cried out flushing in embarrassment.
It was only then that Sherlock let up and John stopped to so that he could run to the toilet. All the while thinking about how that jerk wouldn't have stopped had they been in John's bed and not his.
"Better?" Sherlock asked as he walked into the kitchen after he was done.
Succumbing to a childish urge he stuck his tongue out at the man and walked away with his dignity completely intact despite the fact that he was being laughed at by his flatmate.
Since they were caseless John decided that he would take up the offer that a girl he had met a few days ago made. When he left he said bye to Sherlock and went out the door. The date was fun and John ever the gentleman walked her home and bid her goodnight with a kiss. When he got home he got on his computer and sat near Sherlock on the couch brushing shoulders with him.
"Have fun?" the man asked.
"Yup." John answered while looking at the computer screen.
Eventually Sherlock moved over into the kitchen and John felt sleepiness coming over him. Knowing that he would end up having nightmares if he tried to sleep he made himself some coffee so that he could stay awake a while longer. He hoped that if he were to exhaust himself he would be able to rest minus the dreams. It worked a bit and over the next few nights he was reassured that Sherlock was fine (especially the nights that the man was playing the violin because that just reinforced that he was there) and the dreams seemed to wane.
Sherlock got sleeps in a few naps at a time and sneaking in John's room at night to make sure he was still there alive was enough to make the dreams fade.
They were at a crime scene that was particularly terrible. There was blood splattered everywhere because the killer fancied themselves an artist choosing to paint on the wall in the victim's blood for fun if the smiley stick figures said anything about the murderer.
John could tell that Sherlock wasn't as unaffected as he seemed to the casual observer. This awareness of Sherlock had been building for a while and The Pool seemed to push it into overdrive. John normally used it in a more subtle manner for example feeding the man when he needed it and wouldn't do it himself. But here all he could do was silently offer support by placing a hand gently on the taller man's shoulder.
The gesture earned him a thin smile and then it was back to business as usual.
A few nights later he was on his fifth date with Jennifer. After the movie which he was sure that he and Sherlock should go see so that they could laugh at the shoddy police work that had occurred in the film, they went back to her place.
The last four dates he hadn't come into her flat but tonight she had insisted. It was a pleasurable enough time spent and the sex was good leaving them both satisfied. She was curled into him and he was falling asleep.
The sky was blood red and so was the water. Somehow the world had been drenched in blood. He was in his desert como and he was hiding knowing that he was on a mission. There were shots and he looked behind himself concerned that he had been spotted. Then he saw the body, a lifeless corps, on the ground behind him wearing a black coat and a scarf even in the desert heat. A person that he would never fail to recognize no matter the situation. It at that moment he realized the world had not been dipped in blood, He had and he screamed in anguish.
John woke in a cold sweat. Thankfully Jennifer had rolled over and put space in between them so she still was asleep. He realized that he needed Sherlock now so that he could dispel that awful nightmare. This was the first night that he had slept away from Baker Street and he knew that it was what had triggered the nightmare. Like it or not he needed Sherlock to get rid of his anxiety. But he realized it was more than that. He needed Sherlock period. Their relationship was platonic but it was the most important and meaningful one that he had ever had and he knew that it was the kind of relationship that most people never got to experience in real life. He was lucky to have what he did with Sherlock and he knew that nothing could ever compare. That was why the dreams were so vivid. Sherlock was just that important to him and because of that the result was the tremendous need to keep him as close as possible.
He wondered why he went through the motions of dating when everything that he had ever wanted was at Baker Street. He thought on it for a moment and came up with the answer. Sex. That was why. He sighed knowing that now that he had brought it to his own attention he was most likely not getting laid anytime soon. It was demeaning to his partners that he was basically with them for sex because nobody would ever hold a candle to what he had with Sherlock in any other important aspect of a relationship. He would never care for another the way that he cared for his flatmate. He ran a hand through his hair. What was wrong with him? He had chosen platonic partnership with low probability of sex over a life long relationship with a woman because Sherlock was and always would be the most important person in his life. He was utterly screwed.
It was just a few minutes after midnight when he returned to the flat. Sherlock was seated on the couch dozing and then snapping awake. John figured that Sherlock couldn't sleep or had, had a nightmare just as he had.
"Why didn't you call me?" he asked softly.
Sherlock shrugged not looking at him.
"Come on," John said pulling the man to his feet. Coordination was completely absent from Sherlock and so John picked him up and carried him to bed. Dumping him on the mattress as gently as he could he made to exit the room.
"Stay." The detective said.
"Don't worry," John said. "I'll be back in a few minutes." He promised. With a quick dash to his room for some pajamas, he changed and went back to Sherlock. He was out of breath but he was sure he hadn't taken long.
"Two minutes and fifty-seven seconds." Sherlock informed him sleepily.
John climbed into the bed. Once again it was slightly awkward but it was needed.
After John realized what Sherlock meant to him he found it hard not to touch the man. John had always been a tactile person and most of the time he satisfied his need with his girlfriends but giving that up meant that he had nowhere to express that part of himself.
It started in small almost unnoticeable ways. A brush of fingers while handing over some tea. Sitting closer in the backs of cabs. He was sure that by the time that he noticed Sherlock had already noticed and divined the reason behind it. The git was probably thrilled that he had a monopoly on him.
After a while the touching became commonplace. There were more morning tickle fights, some arm in arm thing from a previous century that Sherlock seemed to like initiating. A few hugs here and there and a lot of play punching from the both of them.
The more they carried on the more he realized that he didn't just love Sherlock he was in love with him. It was something so obvious that everyone saw it, yet it took so much time for him to realize it. After that the bed sharing thing became awkward.
They were both healthy sex capable males so it wasn't like they hadn't felt each other in a certain state in the morning. Most of the time, they shared a bed at two times a week sometimes less when the dreams weren't so bad, so it was inevitable that it would happen. No the problem was that he was starting to fantasize about morning sex and shower sex and all other kinds of sex. Personally he blamed the fact that Sherlock was too attractive and the fact that he hadn't been getting laid.
Sherlock wasn't blind to John inner struggle in fact he relished it. With all the touching and sleeping together he was fast finding that he wanted John in all ways.
Contrary to what people seemed to think he was not virginal or asexual he was simply selective. He had done a few experiments of the sexual nature just to see what all the hype was about and he would have done it anyway after all sex was a constant motivator in his line of work so it was his duty to understand it. After a while it had gotten boring so he simply stopped as there was no point in doing something that bored him. But the idea of doing it with John surprisingly excited him in a way that had been missing in his with his other partners. He wanted John's attention just as he always had. So this seemed like a natural development but apparently John was too shy or nervous to make a move so Sherlock to matters into his own hands.
It was morning and by the softness of the bed he knew that he was in Sherlock's room. However his brain was quick to register that he was being given the best blowjob that he had ever had and unless there was an intruder in the flat it was Sherlock that was sucking him down so expertly.
Speaking was out of the question and all he could do was paw at the sheet frantically to give Sherlock warning before he lost it. After he finished he resisted the urge to pass out and pulled the detective up by gently pulling at his hair so he could see his face. John gave him a feral grin that made Sherlock almost cum right then.
John had a reputation to uphold and he firmly believed in fair exchange when it came to making love. Ripping the pants off of Sherlock in one go, pleased for the first time that Sherlock slept in only those plus a t-shirt, he grabbed hold him. He knew that Sherlock was expecting him to toss him off or maybe a crappy blowjob because of the fact that Sherlock was sure to think him a virgin when it came to men.
But instead the detective found himself being rimmed. John knew he was surprised because he felt the man jump when his tongue first touched his hole. With that the doctor continued until the detective was quivering with need. John devoured Sherlock using techniques that he hadn't used since uni.
"So," John said.
"So," came the smiling reply.
"Was this just a good one- nig… well morning- stand or are we officially in a relationship?" he asked needing very much for it to be the latter.
Sherlock gave him a look but seeing how serious John was about the question he relented with a sigh. "Yes we are in a romantic relationship now."
John's smile was worth the annoyance of giving a conformation of something that was easily seen.
John suddenly remembered something. "By the way there is a movie I think we should go see…"
And they lived happily ever after. Well sort of considering that Sherlock Holmes was involved and sometimes he could be an utter prat when in stroppy mood and he always refused to buy the milk. His brother Mycroft kidnapped them all the time and there were homophobes out there that refused to understand as well as fan girls squeeing all the time. But other than those inconveniences they lived an awesome life together having great adventures that usually culminated with great sex.
The End
A/n this was written to a prompt that I found online that asked for a need based sleeping situation after the Pool with extra touching by the boys and for John to keep dating a bit even after it as well as them ending up together. I think it turned out pretty good my fav part of this was writing the tickle fight because it was absurdly fun let me know what your fav parts were in a review.