This is a one shot and is probably short. Ehh.
I don't own any of these characters.
Thank youuu~!
It's a surprise for nosparkswithoutfire
AN: this is kind of rushed. MY BADDD
oOoOo
There is an age gap.
And while it isn't that big (Yes it is, Sherlock. Don't try to make me feel any younger because it's not working.) John still worries about it from time to time.
Like now. Sherlock's got a case that forces him to go to a club. A club. A fucking club.
"No."
"John, it's-"
"No."
"Jooooooohn." Sherlock whined, sending a full-force pout in his direction. It was ignored, of course. Living with Sherlock for years has taught him how to ignore the pouts and say no. Living with Sherlock has also taught him how to put his foot down and damn near get the man to do anything John wants.
Unless it involves a case but those don't count. Yet.
"Sherlock," John started, crossing his arms and giving him the no-nonsense look. "I won't go. I can't go. You'll be fine on your own, right? It's not like this is a dangerous case, I mean the man's got a damn potbelly the size of Jupiter and, well-"
He paused at Sherlock's confused look.
"No..." John looked at him closely, the way Sherlock does when he's deducing things. Needless to say it unnerves Sherlock greatly.
"John, what are you talking about?" Sherlock mumbles, looking anywhere but at John and giving himself away immediately.
"Do you not know what Jupiter is?" John attempts to hide a smile. It doesn't work.
"It's a bleeding planet, John. Of course I know what it is." Sherlock sighs, crossing and uncrossing his arms.
"How big is it in relation to Earth?"
"That is irrelevant." Sherlock frowned, drawing his bottom lip in to nibble at it. He's learned over the years what does and does not distract John, and that was very high on the distractible list.
"No it's not and stop trying to distract me. You don't know diddly-shit about Jupiter and I'm not going to that awful club with you." John snapped, immediately noticing Sherlock's shocked look. "Damnit, that sounded bad. Sorry, love." John paused, placing a hand on his lover's cheek. "I really can't go, though. It's not believable for a sexy young man to be carting around what looks like his grandfather. I'll blow the whole case."
It was at that part where Sherlock finally understood the problem.
"Oh, John…" He breathed, eyes going soft and leaning in close. John shot him a worried glance, flushing a bright red at the sheer emotion painted across Sherlock's face.
"Do… Do you want to stay in tonight?" Sherlock asked timidly, crowding himself in John's space like he always did to try and alleviate some of John's pain. "I'll make that curry you like. And I won't burn anything. I promise."
John blinked, taking a small step back only to have Sherlock rush in the space he had previously occupied. "Um… well, if you'd like- Well ah, um, your case? And you know… I don't want you to- ah," John stuttered, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly and shuffling about, his arms dropping down to fiddle at his sleeves. Sherlock leaned in even closer, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed his lips to John's temple. His hands slid down John's arms, grabbing hold of the sleeve of his oatmeal-colored jumper and tugging ever-so-slightly.
It was a technique Sherlock rarely ever used, and it only followed when John was feeling insecure about himself. It wasn't often that John wasn't in absolute BAMF mode, and he was prepared to drop a case or two (under level 7 of course) for a bit to console his disheartened lover. He led John over to the kitchen, depositing him near the oven to bustle around collecting ingredients.
"Sherlock?" John grinned, fiddling with the oven knobs to attempt to help his distracted lover.
"Hmm?" Sherlock's head popped out from around the fridge, a packet of curry paste tucked between his teeth and arms full of potatoes and meat.
John positively beamed at that point, fighting down giggles and turning to collect pots for Sherlock, pouring oil in one and filling the other with rice and water.
I like this, John thought, peeking at Sherlock over his shoulder fondly. It's strangely domestic.
Sherlock looked up, biting his lip to keep from smiling.
John looked away, flushing slightly. "Shut up." John muttered, smiling like a schoolgirl, stirring the rice and shuffling over a bit when Sherlock comes over with the paste and chopped potatoes and meat.
It was a comfortable silence, filled only with the sound of sizzling food and the shuffling about of Sherlock or John.
"John" Sherlock started, pressing his hip to John's in a strange attempt to get his attention.
"Yes?" John pressed back, turning it into a back and forth of hip bumps.
"I, er, Iloveyou" Sherlock jumbled, flushing slightly and looking away. "And I don't think anything about our age gap. You're you and I'm me and I think that is all that really matters, right?" He poked at the potatoes, debating on whether or not the food was done. He spared a glance at John, inhaling sharply at the look on his face.
"Are you crying?"
"Of course I am, you absolute berk. That was, uh, very good. Very good indeed." John wiped at his eyes quickly, smiling softly and turning his attention back to the rice.
oOoOo
It wasn't until the end of dinner that John figured out what Sherlock wanted from him, and he decided to alleviate some of Sherlock's worry the only way he knew how.
He would pop in a movie and seduce the hell out of him.
Yes. That sounds good. John thought, looking back at Sherlock nestled on the couch. He finished up washing the dishes, wiping his hands on his trousers as he made his way over to Sherlock. He made a quick detour to the TV, popping in the nearest DVD and walked over to the couch, plopping down and leaning slightly against the taller man. Sherlock reacted immediately, wrapping his arm around John's shoulders as the movie began to play.
oOoOo
"This movie is terrible…" Sherlock mumbled, fingers tapping out a staccato rhythm on John's left shoulder. He paused, looking down when he felt John's fingertips slide across his leg to the inner part of his thigh.
"Hmm?" John hummed, kneading his fingers into the most sensitive areas of Sherlock's legs, smiling slightly when he felt Sherlock readjust himself. He slid his hand up higher, brushing lightly across the crotch of Sherlock's tight trousers. Sherlock reacted immediately, dropping his head to John's shoulder and gasping softly in his ear.
Oh yeah. Two can play that game. Sherlock tightened the arm that was draped over John's shoulders, canting his hips and nibbling on John's earlobe.
John groaned softly, twisting his body to push Sherlock back into the cushions, sticking his thumbs under his shirt and pulling it up and over his head. He looked down, grinning when he saw the look on Sherlock's face, a delicious mix of lust and surprise.
"Have… have you been working out?" Sherlock gasped as John shuffled a bit over him, flexing his muscles and winking down at him.
"Yeah, but only a couple of times a week. I missed my army stomach." John said sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck briefly before looking back down at Sherlock.
"And arms…" Sherlock purred, a sound that went straight to John's groin, and was punctuated by Sherlock digging his fingers into the backs of John's thighs and using them as leverage to thrust almost violently upwards.
"God, Sherlock!" John gasped, pressing his hips down and leaning down for a kiss. He sucked Sherlock's bottom lip, smiling when Sherlock opened his mouth immediately and raised his arms to crush John against his body.
It went on for a bit longer, John and Sherlock fighting for dominance and thrusting hips and swallowed moans until neither could take it any longer and then there were hands everywhere.
John had wiggled his fingers into the hem of Sherlock's tight trousers, damn why were all of his trousers so fucking tight ugh and Sherlock had both hands on John's tight arse and it was exactly at that moment when Ms. Hudson walked in.
oOoOo
WHY AM I SO GOOD AT COCKBLOCKING.
Geez. I am so sorry, everyone.
Expect the last chapter soon maybe perhaps I'll try.