Where it all Begins
Authors Note: Hello. Hope you enjoy this story; I had it stored forever because I couldn't come up with a good title, but I think I got it!
PLEASE Review and comment. I want to know what you think
Ch. 1
It was a cold evening, much like all evenings in London.
John was in his favorite armchair reading the Sun. It had been a good day, and he only hoped he would go to bed relaxed.
He heard a rustle at the door and turned to see Sherlock walking in. Bloody from head to toe.
"Oh god, Sherlock, what…" He stared stunned, hands clutching the paper.
"Vampires, John." Sherlock turned towards the kitchen and started making tea.
"Are you alright? Who are you?" He questioned Sherlock right before turning to the men who entered the room.
"Hi, umm, my name is Sam." The tall one, with the sharp chin and long hair extended his arm. John shook it cautiously. The other man, much shorter than the other had found a comfortable position in the couch. When Sam saw that he wasn't going to make any progress in introducing himself, he did it for him.
"This is my brother Dean." He pointed at the lad with deep green eyes who waved carelessly. John waved back.
"Oh, and this is Castiel, you can call him…" Sam pointed to no one behind him before he got interrupted by his brother.
"Damn it Cas!" Dean waved frantically at the air. Sam looked frustrated, but he made an effort not to show it.
After that it stayed quite. John was hoping Sherlock would jump into the conversation, but he never did. Not to be rude, John introduces himself.
"I'm John Watson." He stood and shook hands with the taller one, again. He decided to sit back down. Sam was a lot taller than John and he didn't like having to look up and speak to people, he already had enough of that with Sherlock. He waved at the sofa for Sam to sit, which he did.
"Yes, we've heard from…" Sam pointed to Sherlock who had sat down in another armchair and was sipping his tea.
"Yeah, you guys are…" Dean pointed his index fingers to one another. Confusion arose in John's face, and he could feel it go red. What was it with Americans and not finishing their sentences?
Another awkward silence ensued.
"Sherlock?" John didn't really know what question to ask him. Why are you covered in blood? Why were these American's in our home? Vampires? He had forgotten about the last question that came to his mind. Sherlock had said it when he arrived. It was silly.
"They're the Winchesters, John." Sherlock pointed at both men with the violin he had picked up. It was another one of those things that Sherlock thought John knew, but in reality John was more in the dark than the dust under the cabinet.
John turned back to the Winchesters.
"Wha…" John didn't finish his question, not that it was going to be answered.
"Take the room upstairs." Sherlock placed the violin on his shoulder.
"But, that's my…"John began to protest them staying in his bedroom.
"Don't be silly John; you don't spend much time in their no more." And just like that Sherlock strung a note on the violin and was lost to his thoughts.
The uncomfortable silence continued. Sam fiddled with his fingers, John's face burned brightly, and Dean was looking around the flat at nothing in particular, all the while a simple version of Beethoven's 9th played in the background.
"So we'll be going." Sam got up and looked at Dean. It was a look that meant something only the brothers knew. In this case it was "Stand the fuck up so we could leave." Dean obliged, and with an awkward good night they were off to John's room
Sherlock had taken a hot shower, and his pale skin was clean once again.
He had dragged John to the bedroom after, hopeful for some late night romance, but the other was having none of it.
John was a whole level on top of frustrated at Sherlock. He wouldn't tell him what was going on. He kept telling John that he would tell him all he needed to know the next day.
"You're not enjoying this." Sherlock looked up at John. He was nipping at the others chest hoping to get a reaction, a reaction that he normally got, but this time John was not budging. He laid stalk still on his back.
John shook his head. Sherlock's weight on gave him the comfort he wanted, but he didn't want to acknowledge it, not now anyway.
"Then I'll try harder." He moved up to John's lip.
"I can't see why you can't tell me." John placed his hands on Sherlock's chest to move him away. His hands lightly brushed Sherlock's nipples that sent a small shock to both men.
"I could tell you or I could show you." Sherlock grabbed John's wrist and held them over his head, and kissed at his throat.
"Tell me." John whispered at his ear. Sherlock slowly moved his pelvis against Johns.
"I would have hoped you pick the latter." Sherlock slid up to kiss John on the lips. John felt his erection rub against Sherlock's. Both men's muscles clenched and shuddered at the feel, and just like that John lost to the detective. "Fine you'll show me tomorrow."
It was when they were under the covers when he appeared. Sherlock was driving his hips towards John.
The man had his faced cocked to the side with an observant stare. He knew what was happening. He had seen it in the television when the boys where not around. He didn't understand it, but sometimes it made him happy. He stood there for a good amount of time looking at the figures move beneath the covers.
Muscle tightened around Sherlock's dick making his thrust slower.
"I'm going to come, Sherlock." John's toes curled as Sherlock's hand rubbed at his length, pumping in rhythmic motion. Sherlock met John's lips, they were chapped. He slid his tongue inside John's mouth, minty. Their tongues intertwined as the air around them got heavy. Sherlock took his free hand and threw the covers off.
At one point the covers slipped away. It took him by no surprise that the two men were underneath. He didn't think it would matter him being there. Not until the man "getting the pounding", as it's referred to, saw him and screamed.
"SHERLOCK!"