Show: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: John/Sherlock
Rating: T for sexual scenes but nothing too explicit so keeping the rating as a T
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle originally. These versions belong to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and the BBC.
A/N: This is un-beta'd so excuse any typos and sorry for bad writing. Constructive criticism welcome
Synopsis: Basically a small fluff broken into ficlet-length chapters. The steps that lead to eventual Johnlock.
Part 1: The Alley Situation
I was running so fast that I couldn't feel my legs. I almost had to double my pace to keep up with Sherlock and I hadn't run this fast since I was back in the army.
"John, quickly!" Sherlock hissed, grabbing my arm and shoving me into the gap between two buildings.
The gap wasn't exactly spacious, in fact Sherlock almost lay flush against me; so when they ran past and he pressed closer, using his ridiculous coat to cover us, there was very little space between us. He adjusted the position of his hips pressing them into mine in the process. Oh shit. No no no no no. This was so NOT the time to get an inappropriate hard-on for your best mate. Sherlock adjusted his position again. His eyes flicked to me, obviously hearing my sharp intake of breath. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He must be able to feel it. Think on about something else. Mrs Hudson.. Mrs Hudson... Old wrinkly Mrs Hudson sex... It subsided for a moment until Sherlock Fucking Gorgeous Holmes looked me dead in the eye and shifted his weight about.
'He MUST be doing this purpose' I think to myself, 'Well if he's playing a game, then sure as hell I won't go down without a fight'
I stretched my back and shoulders, pretending to find a comfortable position. Meanwhile my hips pretty much grinded into his. A small noise escaped his mouth that sounded suspiciously like a moan. I'm not quite sure how it happened but suddenly me (slightly in love with the wrong person) and my flatmate ('not his area' and oblivious to it') we rutting against each other in this tiny space, only a few thin layers of fabric separating our cocks.
And then Sherlock began thrusting faster and faster. Both our breathing grew deeper and more rapid - I couldn't hold on for much longer. And with one final thrust and a strained breath, like a hormonal teenage boy, I came in my pants. Sherlock almost immediately pulled away and whipped out his phone.
"I text Lestrade the location. Case solved. Let's go" He said in his usual deadpan voice.
"Er yeah let's go" I nodded.
The whole ordeal was rather awkward, neither looked at the other during and once it was over we continued life as normal - starting with a nice cuppa at 221B - after changing of course. I don't even know how it happened, it just DID. How the hell does one go from running away from a criminal to grinding against your flatmate in an alley?
I decided that since it involved Sherlock, who was far from experienced in the area, I should probably just dismiss it as an accident and move on.
