Sherlock embodied the snow in every principle which made John smile softly.

Sherlock was cold, knowing that this was the way of the world. He was also rather complex, his Mind Palace was the epitome of how intricate this man could be. Yet the man was rather gentle to John, but could instantly become harsh, like a blizzard. He was like no man John had ever encountered, even in all his times in the war and it thrilled him to know such a man.

Watching the snow dance down on Baker Street, John sipped his tea. Feeling the sudden rush of warmth settle his bones, he stared into the white wonder as it reminded him of how pale Sherlock was. It was his natural hue and sometimes John swore he turned into a ghost when he was sick. Yet there was something somewhat enchanting about Sherlock's ivory skin. John had never seen someone as pale as him before, it was as though he was constructed of snowflakes bounded by many winter winds gone by.

Taking another sip of his tea, John was nothing more than dusty sand. He was like anyone else, he was average. While he didn't mind or care, he found it amazing that in a sea of people, Sherlock could easily be pinpointed. Though he supposed that's what made him adore Sherlock so much. The fact that even in a crowd of regular Joes and Janes, he could find Sherlock standing out, waiting for him. His skin went against his character of wanting to avoid people other than John and those he needed to interact with.

Feet on the stairs reverberated, their sound walking into John's ears. Looking over his shoulder, he watched his snow skinned Sherlock enter the flat. It had been a few months since they started their relationship and while they felt as though they've known each for forever, they never went far enough to reach the bedroom. Their first night of dining together confirmed that Sherlock was unattached and had never been involved in any sort of relationship. No hook ups, no flings, no serious relationships, no intimacy; nothing at all. This made John believe that like him, Sherlock was a virgin. Ms. Adler had toyed with him, nicknaming him The Virgin, and Sherlock did not deny such an accusation. Rather, he allowed it to roll down his back as though it didn't bother him.

At best John and Sherlock would succumb to the irresistible temptation of savagely wrestling their tongues and feeling each other up. Yet it would always end before they reached third base and while their sessions pleased John, at times, he wished for more. However he knew that he was terribly shy at initiating sex and often found himself on his back or pinned to the wall while Sherlock cruelly teased him. Sometimes his passion or suppressed emotions would dominate him and he would force Sherlock onto the couch while he tore his pants off and roughly sucked his cock.

It also didn't help the fact that Sherlock was an enticingly entrancing teaser when it came to their sessions. The man used his perception to detect what John's sensitive patches, what made him groan the loudest, what made him moan the softest, what made his hips buck without warning. John was always putty in Sherlock's hands and he loved it with every caress and touch. Knowing how Sherlock melted him in their passions, he wondered how he would be in the bedroom.

John shivered in delight at that image.

Sherlock knew that shiver and smirked, ignoring the snow in his hair and waiting for John to make the move. He wasn't a forceful type of lover and only did whatever his partner was comfortable with. Yet there were nights he wished he could rip John's trousers off, push him onto the bed, and have at it until the sun rose. It was an intense desire he knew how to suppress and control. It was a need that he had managed all this time and for once, he never gave into that need. He knew it was a part of Maslow's Hierarchy, the fact that all humans needed esteem, love, safety, self-actualization, and physiological needs to survive. Sherlock had achieved all of these things, without obtaining the carnal need. But for once, he wondered what it would be like to completely break boundaries, and achieve that primitive want.

"Hold on, you've got some snow in your hair."

Standing on his toes, John ran his fingers through Sherlock's field of ebony curls tipped with snow. The trap was set and the prey was baited, carefully eating that bait, unsuspecting of the trap to release. Pristine blue eyes lowered, Sherlock's orbs flared with something wild.

Gripping his hips, Sherlock pulled John into a passionate kiss that melted him more than his tea did. The trap was unleashed and the prey gave in, sinking fingers into Sherlock's hair, his tips stroked Sherlock's sensitive scalp which made him moan. Kicking the door closed with his heel, Sherlock pulled his partner tightly to him, not once wanting to release him. Relieving Sherlock of his dark sweater, John ran his fingers down the taller man's spine. Groaning into the kiss, Sherlock pressed his lips hard and roughly against his partner's. Using his finger tips he slowly inched down Sherlock's spine once more, making the man buck his hips against John's frame.

Sherlock nibbled John's lower lip before biting rather hard and pulling oh so slowly so that John's moan echoed against his skin. Warmth danced along their bodies, inviting the heat between them to burn and burst. John's lips were like fire, burning Sherlock's lips with passionate warmth that made his snow flesh redden. Sherlock hastily grabbed the edge of John's sweater, thumbing the fabric. It was thick and warm, perfect for the season; also perfect for being ripped off.

Sherlock's fingers lingered at the edge of John's sweater, stroking the skin beneath. His fingertips were cold from the winter chill that he emerged from and made the hair rise on his partner's body. The detective's fingers worked like his mind, in depth with perception. Dragging his fingers up John's ribs, John swore Sherlock could feel his heart pounding and screaming for more. Every beat seemed to tremble on his skin and made Sherlock hungrier for his beloved as John moaned softly at the touch. As his fingers neared John's nipples, the sweater stretched, eager to be shed. John's throat thrummed with a low moan, music to Sherlock's ears. Smirking softly, Sherlock leaned into John's kiss to capture that delicious sound. The moan trembled among Sherlock's lips, urging him to run clockwise circles around John's tender nipples.

'Goddamnit Sherlock,' John thought to himself, his brain reeling in ecstasy and that deep moan steadily growing into a needful mewl.

What a sound, Sherlock relished in the notes and tore the sweater from John's body only to be met with a sensual growl rolling from his now shirtless, short partner. John hastily pulled Sherlock's body to him, his hands roamed over Sherlock's back muscles, stroking them with electricity in his fingernails and making the detective groan. His body was ablaze with warmth that not even the snow could chill. John could feel the fire burning and blazing within him as Sherlock's chilly fingers slid onto his nipples and caress them softly.

John roared loudly with intangible want, breaking the kiss between the two and muffling the starving sound by leaving love bites on Sherlock's neck. Thank God the man had a scarf to cover them up, but he didn't care. They would both be teased by others about marks they gave each other every now and then. But by now everyone had accepted the fact that John was Sherlocked. Even if they didn't, the duo didn't care because they weren't seeking the approval of everyone (though was thrilled beyond words to see they were finally dating). Rather, they were seeking the approval and acceptance of each other while coursing through the rivers of a relationship.

Once more, John's fingers slowly walked down Sherlock's back making the detective groan. His eyes widened as he felt John's hands slip into his pants and firmly grope his tight ass. This tempted Sherlock to go harder in his endeavors, but that would break his game. Instead, he bit down on John's collarbone, sucking at the tender flesh and leaving rather large red marks. He could feel John's hands working on his arse, sending shivers of pleasure down Sherlock's spine and making him suck harder. John groaned with every mark left and in return, made more bruises along Sherlock's ivory skin with his hungry mouth.

With their bodies were close together John felt himself extremely aroused. His jeans didn't hide from his erection and Sherlock's, if anything, enhanced his hard on. John knew what would follow after this, but this time, he didn't want just oral. He wanted – Sherlock teasingly ran a finger down his partner's chest and played along the belt which held up the very fabric that separated him from satisfaction. John knew what he wanted and yet he could feel himself melting more from Sherlock's touch. His head swam in ecstasy with the notion of sweet surrender, giving his body to Sherlock, and allowing him to do as he pleased, even if there was no sex. His mind grew foggy with the desire to wrap his lips around Sherlock's cock and maybe, maybe next time he would work up the courage to ask if they could advance to the next level.

Gripping Sherlock's hand, John's brain rebelled. The lustful want was all he had on his mind now and his brain was damned if it was going to slip from him again. Eyes widening, he felt his hand pulsing against Sherlock's pale wrist. The electric warmth pounding in his brain and writhing in his nerves hungered for intercourse and refused to let him escape such a wondrous want.

"John?"

Sherlock had known John long enough to know that when he wasn't in the mood for anything, he would show it prior to kissing and touching. But this was a new side of John Sherlock had not witnessed before as he attempted to assemble the clues in his head. John looked well; he knew there was nothing wrong about him. He was not feverish or angered or bitter about anything. No one had affected his life negatively in the past few days, months, or weeks. Yes there were a few cases, but John had brushed them off as accomplishments, having helped his boyfriend solve them and sticking by his side. They did not bother him in the least. Furrowing his brow, Sherlock watched his partner wrestle with his mind, as though wanting to tell him something, but what the detective did not know.

Ah, but wait then. Something arose and started to arrange the words and notions in his Mind Palace.

Swallowing hard, John locked eyes with Sherlock's. It was as though a ghost was guiding John through the notions of how to properly ask for intercourse and advancement. He could feel some transparent head forcing him to stare into his boyfriend's intense stare. Those bright, blazing blues made his knees quiver with an insatiable hunger he never had before. It was strange and primal and only made his eyes roughen with desire. Brushing the ghost away, he cleared his throat which caused Sherlock to watch him with rapt attention.

"Sh-Sherlock."

"Hm?"

He couldn't bring himself to keep staring at those beautiful blues. Swiftly looking down, he came in contact with Sherlock's erect member which reassured him of what he needed. His voice fell from serious to shy as he mentally chastised himself for not being able to ask such a simple question. He knew that the act of sex would amplify their relationship and strengthen its bond. John was prepared for that and it wouldn't surprise him if Sherlock was as well. 'If' was a giant word especially in this regard. But so far their relationship had been good. They fought every now and then as any other couple did and respected each other's space and time. They always had each others' backs and knew when to comfort them and when to leave them be. So why he wouldn't to advance worried John and made him reconsider his brain's sudden rebellious nature.

"Do you….er…perhaps…want to-"

The words tumbled out of John's mouth like a bull stampeding through a field of fences. Their syllables registered in the Mind Palace and came together with a resounding click in Sherlock's head.

"Oh."

Given the context, their time together, and nature of what they were doing, the Mind Palace completed its riddle. It gave way to the answer of something that did not surprise Sherlock in the least. Rather, he had expected it would emerge sooner or later. They had been together for a good while and sooner or later, the idea of sex would pop up. Smiling with relief, John was glad he didn't have to finish that question, knowing Sherlock's reasoning would end it.

To ravage his partner through and through, perhaps now it was time to break the walls, shatter the boundaries, and embrace the primal instinct that every human had been born with, including Sherlock Holmes. Though it would not be so easy to achieve intercourse and John could tell that by the sly, sexy smirk on Sherlock's face. He knew how Sherlock played the game and he knew how to dominate John.

"Maybe," even Sherlock's voice toyed with John, his heart pounding with need.

"Maybe?"

"Maybe."