This fic was written for my dear friend Rimaven. You enjoy this girl. It took me forever to write this because it was so hard to get through.
Don't get me wrong; I ship JohnLock like there's no tomorrow but I just cannot read (let alone write) yaoi stuff. So it's kinda sucky but you'll have to get over it :3
Enjoy, my lovelies! Flinx update coming soon ;D
John Watson had patience. If there were one virtue that he did not lack, it would be patience. After all, he lived with Sherlock Holmes in a tiny flat with almost no activity at all. Any flat-mate of Sherlock's would have to acquire some form of patience just to get through a week with the man. He was always lounging about on the couch or the bed, completely and utterly bored out of his mind, turning down cases left and right, and almost never taking an interest in the mysteries handed to him in the large manila folders. It took an enormous amount of patience to deal with Sherlock Holmes.
John Watson was very proud of his patience.
But at the moment, all of that patience seemed to have swirled away down the bathtub drain. His very pride and joy washed away by the freezing water. As he stepped from the cold shower, he glanced down to confirm what he already knew. It was six o'clock in the morning on a Saturday and he had woken with an erection after experiencing a very pleasant dream featuring he and Sherlock in the most amorous of situations. To any other man, these visions would have been incredibly disturbing and alarming but John felt comfortable enough in his relationship with Sherlock to enjoy such dreams. He only hoped Sherlock felt the same way.
Usually, whenever he or Sherlock woke with such desires or John came home from a particularly taxing day out and about, the two men were able to help each other wind down for the night or just plain make up for a bad day. It was a regular occurrence that the two took pleasure from and found to be especially enjoyable. Whenever Mrs. Hudson asked the two why the bed in Sherlock's room now squeaked when it hadn't before they just cast the other a knowing glance, proceeded to shrug, and then answer, "No, we don't know why."
John swore as he stared down at himself and ran a hand through his short wet hair. He snatched a towel off the rack to his right and wrapped it around his waist after quickly rubbing down his legs and chest. After securing the towel he strolled through the open door of the bathroom to search for Sherlock. He grinned a little at the fact that neither man bothered to shut the door while in the shower anymore. It made for a nice surprise if the other flat-mate were to accidently waltz right in and throw back the curtain for a little shag under the warm jets or just a quick glance of naked skin.
He padded through the flat quietly to the living area where he found Sherlock lying on the couch in a rumpled button down shirt and trousers, staring up at the ceiling with a bored expression on his handsome face. John leaned over the back of the couch on his forearms to gaze straight down at his flat-mate, intruding upon the man's thought process, if there were any going on at the moment.
"Of course he's thinking; even if he's bored he's still thinking. He's probably analyzing why that fly is landing on the ceiling or walking in that particular pattern or something." John thought dryly.
"What is it, John?" Sherlock's eyes lost their blankness for a moment to study the shirtless figure above. John inwardly swelled with pride as they scraped over his bare shoulders before returning to their former stare of boredom.
"What do you think?" John replied with a huff. He really had lost his patience. After an entire month of hanging around a comatose Sherlock, John was being pushed to his limits.
Sherlock stared up at his flat mate, "I think you're aroused and are in need of satisfaction, the kind only I can provide."
"You don't have to be so blunt about it, you know."
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
Sherlock sat up suddenly, nearly knocking over John in the process. John gripped his towel having almost dropped it as he dodged Sherlock.
"Not today. Not for me. I need a case. It's driving me insane."
"You are insane. And if you're going madder than before then perhaps I should do something to help you wind down." John came around the couch and sat down next to Sherlock. He leaned inward and let his warm breath purl against Sherlock's neck. He was delighted when he was rewarded with a small shiver and a few goose bumps. The two men sat like this for some time and John counted the seconds as the clock ticked them out into the silence.
"Alright, alright, fine. But it's just for you, love." Sherlock finally cracked and John smiled approvingly. He planted a short kiss on his flat mate's mouth and reached for the first button on Sherlock's purple button down shirt. The taller man caught his hand and guided it away from the button. John glanced at Sherlock, perplexed.
"Just for you, love." Sherlock smiled mischievously. He undid the towel around John's waist and released the man's throbbing member.
John hissed as Sherlock stroked his length with his long fingers. The tips were calloused from playing the violin and they dragged across his sensitive skin in a languid move. Sherlock smirked at John's strained expression as he knelt on the floor before him. He teasingly licked the tip of his flat mate's member and glowed with pride at the instant reaction.
Sherlock continued his light kisses and licks until John practically shook with desire. He enveloped his partner's member with his mouth and began bobbing his head up and down, his soft curls bouncing with the movement. John tangled his fingers in the silky locks and tried to breathe and lower his heart rate but failed miserably. Sherlock's hand moved up and down the shaft.
"That's…that's fantastic…" John muttered under his breath.
Sherlock moved faster and responded to John's compliment by entwining his fingers in John's. They clasped hands tightly as the heat between them grew steadily.
"Incredible…" John gasped and smiled. "Amazing…"
Suddenly, the warmth around his hard member left and Sherlock pulled his head away from John's lap. The good doctor looked down with a puzzled look. Sherlock merely grinned up at him endearingly.
"You're doing it again." The genius said.
John chuckled, "Sorry. Force of habit."
Sherlock pressed his face into John's hand before continuing with his previous occupation. John's head slowly leaned back again with his mouth slightly agape, simply enjoying what his partner had to offer.