Sherlock's experimental love potion is working perfectly. John has fallen under Sherlock's chemical spell.
"Come, John," Sherlock murmured in the doctor's ear. "Let's get you inside."
John had been resting his cheek on Sherlock's chest for the past few miles and was loathe to move away from his delicious scent. As Sherlock's long fingers caressed his cheek and neck, it only heightened the euphoric feelings racing around in his brain. Sherlock didn't mind this, did he? John wasn't sure anymore. This had to be okay. It felt so damn good.
"All right," he said dreamily and lifted his head to sit up. The moment Sherlock tried to pull away from John in order to open his door, John let out a moan of despair. "No, wait," he said reaching for the detective.
Sherlock chuckled, "It's going to be fine, John. Let's go inside and we can…"Sherlock hesitated at using such a mundane word for what he wanted to do to John. "Snuggle some more." He finished, grimacing at the idea. Sherlock Holmes didn't snuggle.
"Yes, I'd like that," John said and almost leapt out of the cab to bound up to the door of 221b. He waited on the balls of his feet for Sherlock to pay the cab driver and join him at the door.
So eager, Sherlock thought, delighted at the effects of his formula. John showed all the classic signs of sexual desire, eyes wide, alert, pupils dilated, and lips parted.
It took all his reserve not to race to the front door and slide home the key. He placed his large hand on the small of John's back and guided him inside the entry way. He noticed Mrs. Hudson's darkened door signifying her absence from 221a. Out for the weekend he remembered. Just as well, he thought, as they might have a difficult time explaining the sounds he intended to have John Watson make tonight.
John lost no time shedding his coat, gloves and scarf and moved to help Sherlock out of his outerwear. "Want to watch some telly?" he asked sitting down on the couch and patting the seat next to him.
"All right," Sherlock said. "Would you like some tea?"
"No, no," John said an anxious edge creeping into his voice. "Just come sit here," he patted the seat next to him more insistently.
Sherlock might have been indignant at being called to heel like a dog if he hadn't wanted to continue his experiment. He took two strides across the room and sat next to John. Without his overcoat muffling the scent, John was able to take another long sniff the moment Sherlock moved in next to him.
John's eyes rolled as he closed them in delight. He took two handfuls of Sherlock's shirt and pulled him close. He floated on the heady mixture of Sherlock's unique scent of chemicals, tobacco and… this exotic fragrance. The craving that gnawed in John's gut began to spread into his loins urging his cock to expand and engorge. He wanted to kiss Sherlock and draw him even closer, touch him all over, engulf him entirely, but something clearly held him back. Even though all his senses screamed for him draw close, his normal reserve told him not to push this moment too far. What if he were annoying his flat mate, repulsing him? They were romantically involved! Why did his fevered brain insist they were? He tried one last time to pull himself away. Maybe if he went up to his room, he could clear his head.
He tried standing up, but Sherlock sensed the doctor's intent and reached out to hold John's face in his hands. He stared into his half-closed eyes a moment. John's desire, clearly evident could no longer be denied. This is exactly what Sherlock wanted, pliant, receptive John. All his! He had to act now, or he may lose this tenuous chance his chemical cocktail had provided. Sherlock's heart misgave for just a moment. He knew, deep down this wasn't how he should have seduced the doctor, but now that he had John in this moment, he couldn't stop himself.
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth over John's lips. John moaned into the kiss. He kissed back, starting slow then turning insistent, ardent and then frantic. Sherlock's tongue slipped into his mouth; he used his thumbs to push John's jaw down so he could deepen the kiss. A low rumble began down in Sherlock's chest, and he could hear the possessive growl grow until he nearly roared his desire down John's throat.
John responded by giving as good as he got and ran his hands over Sherlock's face, neck and down his arms. Each breath only increased the dizzy feeling of intoxication and his need to breathe more of Sherlock's scent. Touching the long, pale limbs brought fresh wafts of scent to John's nostrils making him rub his hands over Sherlock's chest and back. He wanted to drown in the essence of Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock pulled back a little and brought John's head down to his chest and held it there feeling John's labored breathing. He had sprayed a concentration of the scent directly over his heart earlier, and now he buried John's face in it. The doctor panted in tight little gasps, and he squirmed against Sherlock's embrace trying to turn his head back up to those plush lips for another kiss. Sherlock kept his head tightly held in place to maximize John's exposure. A few more minutes of breathing in the concentrated mixture, and John would find himself unable to resist anything Sherlock asked of him.
"Calmly, John. We can take this as slow as you like," Sherlock said rubbing John's back as his friend breathed in and out. "Are you sure? Do you want this?" he asked. John would remember him asking tomorrow. He would also remember grabbing handfuls of Sherlock's dark curls and pulling him close to answer, "God, yes" as well. It wasn't as if he were taking him against John's will.