Title: In Transition Author: fengirl88
Wordcount: 1138 for this part.
Pairings: Sherlock/John not-very-established relationship; Sherlock/Lestrade complications; Sherlock/John slash, finally.
Rating: NC-17 eventually.
Warnings: Sexual content, mild drug references, and Lestrade still swears rather a lot.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Just playing with them. Again.
Spoilers: Bits of A Study in Pink.
Summary: John has never been so happy. Sherlock has never been so confused. Sex has never been so awkward.
A/N: This story started life as a sequel to Unpredictable, which tells how this Sherlock and John get together. It now also bridges the gap between two later fics, The Old Bad Songs and Beginning To See The Light.
This one's for ginbitch, the alpha plus of beta readers, who made it possible in the first place by her comments on The Old Bad Songs and who saved me and the characters from being permanently trapped in bad!scene!hell this time around.
In Transition
Prologue: John
Early Days
The last patient of the day has gone, but John doesn't move from his desk. Too busy thinking.
He still doesn't really believe this is happening. Keeps thinking he's going to wake up back in the hospital and find the whole thing has been a dream. He seems to spend far too much time at the moment grinning like an idiot, or daydreaming about being in bed with Sherlock. Never thought anything like this would happen with another man. But then Sherlock isn't like any other man he's ever known.
Still takes some getting used to, though.
He hasn't said anything to Harry about it, of course – or, God forbid, their parents. Time enough for that when things have settled down a bit. They hadn't coped well with Harry, so God knows how they would – will, he tells himself sternly, because sooner or later he'll have to tell them – cope with this.
And Sherlock isn't exactly anyone's idea of a son-in-law.
He's had a couple of texts from Clara since that night in the pub, suggesting meeting up and asking if he's OK. He tells her he's fine, just busy, that they'll meet soon. But he's avoiding it at the moment, because he feels as if this thing that's happened to him is written all over him, and she'll see it right away.
Feeling as if it's written all over him is both exciting and terrifying. Exciting because he wants everybody to know what's happening with him and Sherlock, because being with Sherlock is the most amazing thing that's ever happened to him. How could it not be? To have someone so incredible look at you as if you're not the ordinary person you thought you were, but as if you are somehow transformed into something precious and amazing and wonderful. To be looked at like that, with the full force of Sherlock's gaze. Sherlock's eyes. He gets dizzy just thinking about it.
But it's also terrifying to feel so new, turned upside-down, changed, just beginning. And he wants to protect this new raw self that seems to have no shell, or too few skins. He's not sure he could cope with attack, in whatever form – and he imagines everything from ridicule to queerbashing. So he lives in a constant state of tension, seesawing between the incredible rush of being with Sherlock and the fear that any minute he will be hurt beyond repair.
He doesn't think it's about the gay thing.
He always thought he was OK about that. He can't stand Harry, but that goes back to their childhood, before either of them had a sexuality to speak of. And he's always liked Clara. Had plenty of gay friends at Bart's, both sorts.
Still, there's a difference between having friends who are it and being it yourself. If that is what he is now.
He's never been so aware of the difference between being gay and straight. Like that first afternoon when he and Sherlock had finally dragged themselves out of bed and gone for a walk in Regent's Park to get some air. If he'd just got out of bed after all those hours with a girlfriend, he'd have put his arm round her or held her hand or stopped to kiss her, and thought nothing of it. Nobody would have thought anything of it. But all the things he wanted to do to Sherlock, all the ways he wanted to touch Sherlock, felt dangerous and forbidden. Still do. Which is difficult when you want to jump all over someone. When you're longing for him so much you feel as if your bones have melted and there's nothing holding you up any more.
He really needs to calm down. At this rate he'll wear himself out before they've been together for a fortnight. Ten days – no, eleven – since that day he still doesn't like to think about even though the end of it was – nice. Lying in bed with Sherlock, finally, kissing and touching. Feeling the unhappiness begin to thaw from his body. Quiet at last. Takes a while to get over a day like that, though.
He's not completely sure they have yet. Maybe that's why they're still quite careful around each other. Still, it's early days. They'll probably relax more once they're more used to each other.
If you could ever get used to Sherlock.
And life goes on, more or less. He goes to work and stays focused as long as there's a patient in the room. Hard to stop his mind wandering in the moments between, though. Or like now, after the last patient of the day has gone.
And Sherlock seems happy – full of energy, busier than ever, solving things you'd think nobody could work out in a lifetime. Even Donovan was actually impressed with him, that last case they worked, and forgot to call him Freak. Anderson still can't find a good word to say for him, but to be fair that's not surprising.
Haven't seen much of Lestrade lately, which is a relief. Sherlock said he was busy, working some complicated case even Sherlock didn't seem to know the details of. John knows that thing between them must have been Sherlock's fault as much as Lestrade's. Still good not to have to see him, though.
The sex isn't very good yet, which is a bit of a worry. He doesn't know if he should worry about it – hasn't really got a point of comparison. It's so long since he had a girlfriend that he doesn't remember too clearly what the sex there was like at the start.
They don't do that much yet. Maybe because they're still being careful with each other.
He worries that he doesn't know what Sherlock likes, feels clumsy and inexperienced around Sherlock. Then there are times when Sherlock can't find the right rhythm for him, or it's too hard or not hard enough. Maybe it would work better if he guided Sherlock or something, but that idea keeps reminding him of Sherlock and Lestrade, and he doesn't want to think about that. Oral sex is more complicated than it looks in the films, too. Still trying to get the hang of that.
He sometimes thinks Sherlock might like something else, but they haven't talked about it.
Haven't talked much at all, really. Not about that sort of thing. Lots of talk about work, which is nice.
It is definitely the happiest he has ever been. He just wishes he weren't so tired all the time, but with all that's going on in his mind it's not surprising.
Like Sherlock said, sex isn't that important really. And it probably does get easier with practice.
He just hopes Sherlock's happy.