This was written for Kink Meme, for the prompt asexual Sherlock with Johnlock. So this story is slash, adult content and all that good stuff. It's also a first time story, for no particular reason except that I like them. Sherlock and John Watson were of course invented by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the rest owes a lot to the BBC. If I make any money off this... hahaha, who are we kidding? There's no money in this, just love!
After the Great Game
As soon as Jim Moriarty left the pool area, Sherlock Holmes threw an arm around the shoulders of John Watson and hurried him into a cab and back to their flat. John's coat full of explosives had to be left behind, so by the time they reached their own door John was shivering and his hands were stiff and blue.
Sherlock took John upstairs to his bedroom and was about to leave him to undress and go back to the kitchen to make some hot tea, when he realized that John's hands were so numb that he could not manage the buttons. He was clawing at them with fingers too stiff actually work them properly. Cursing himself for not realizing sooner that he could have given John his own coat, or at least the scarf, Sherlock said briskly, "Here, let me help you."
"Damnit, I don't need help!" John retorted.
"Yes, you do." Sherlock ignored John's protests and started efficiently unbuttoning his shirt and fetching his pyjamas, before bending down to remove John's shoes and socks.
"That's enough, go downstairs and make some tea!" John protested, when he realized that Sherlock was about to start unzipping his trousers.
"Very well," said Sherlock, "as long as you get into bed and start getting warm."
"I will, I will, just go downstairs."
Sherlock went down into the kitchen and put the kettle on and set about the calming ritual of making tea. It took him about twice as long as it would have taken John, but he got there eventually. He took two mugs of tea up to John's bedroom, and was pleased to see that John was already sitting in the bed. He handed over the first cup and settled down on the edge of the bed with his own.
John did not appear calmed by the tea-sipping as he usually was. In fact he was gulping it down so fast he was probably scalding his mouth. When the mug was empty he handed it back to Sherlock with a terse, "Thanks for the tea, but it's late and I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow."
Sherlock noted that this behaviour was unusual for John. He was almost agitated, despite the late hour and the tea. Could he be trying to get rid of Sherlock? And if so, why?
Sherlock watched John trying to slide down in his bed, and realized from the awkwardness and bulk of the movement that he was still wearing his trousers! Obviously he had not been able to manage the zip without Sherlock's help and was now trying unobtrusively to get rid of Sherlock before he noticed. Except that nothing was unobtrusive to Sherlock.
"John, don't be ridiculous. You can't sleep in trousers. Let me help you." Sherlock threw back the covers and despite John's flailing hands managed to unbutton and unzip John's trousers. He had them half off when he realized what John had been hoping would escape notice. John had an erection.
"Perfectly normal physical reaction to fear of dying, to want to affirm life." John mumbled, blushing. "Happened a lot in Afghanistan after a narrow escape."
"And what did you do about it in Afghanistan, when there wasn't a woman around for miles?"
"Ah well, brothers in arms, you know… That kind of thing." John petered out, blushing again. Sherlock looked carefully at John; eyes wide open, dilated pupils, flushed cheeks, increased rate of breathing. John was clearly aroused and needed Sherlock to do something about it, though he would never ask in so many words.
"Very well," replied Sherlock, and promptly ran downstairs to his own room. He threw off his own clothes and put on his pyjamas and brushed his teeth, turned out the kitchen light and ran back up to John's bedroom.
John had managed to finish kicking off his trousers and was lying on his side facing the wall. He started violently when Sherlock lifted the covers and slid in behind him.
"What are you doing here? I thought you'd gone to bed."
"No, you told me you need a brother in arms to help you, so I went to get myself ready for bed, and now I'm ready to help you with your needs. Let me touch you." Sherlock reached around from behind John and slid his left arm under John's neck and his right arm around John's waist, sliding his hand down to grasp John's erection firmly and give it a few strokes of the shaft.
"I thought… oh, that's good… I thought you were asexual, married to your work and all that?"
Sherlock chuckled warmly, "Yes, but that doesn't mean I can't have a bit on the side occasionally. Being asexual myself doesn't mean not recognizing sexual needs in those I care about." He drifted his left hand down to gently rub at John's nipples, while his right continued the firm strokes of John's cock in time to the now helpless thrusting of his hips. "That's it, enjoy being alive and feeling everything it means to be alive. You faced death, even offered to die for me, but now here we are alive and together and doesn't that feel good?"
A few more thrusts into Sherlock's hand and John was coming in quick, rapid pulses of warm stickiness into his hand, groaning with release. Sherlock wiped off most of the mess on a convenient bit of sheet, then helped John wriggle back away from the wet patch. He could feel John relaxing into his arms, sleepy and warm as they spooned. This was Sherlock's favourite part of a relationship, the warm comfort of simply being together.
Then John seemed to force himself awake for a moment, "But what about you?" he murmured. "Do you need… anything?" He pushed his hips back into Sherlock's lap, as if seeking to rub against an erection that wasn't there.
"No, I'm fine John, it's all fine. Just go to sleep."
"Mmm, 'kay."
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Over the next few weeks, John and Sherlock settled into a new routine. John would get up and make breakfast for both of them, they would eat (or at least John would) and then John would go to work and Sherlock would stay in the flat and think. In the evenings John would drink tea and watch crap telly until he was ready to go to bed, when Sherlock would follow him upstairs to his bedroom, bring him off with a quick hand job and cuddle against his back until they both fell asleep.
This arrangement seemed eminently satisfactory to Sherlock. John's needs were taken care of so John was happy, and Sherlock was able to enjoy warmth and closeness without the pressure of any expectations of sexual performance. Ideal.
Except that one night after a particularly efficient bringing off of John in under three minutes, instead of settling in for a nice snuggle John flopped over on his back and sighed.
"Is something the matter?" asked Sherlock. "Are you not ready for sleep yet?"
"Well, yes… not really… I don't know." John prevaricated.
"Does it bother you that I don't have a reciprocal sexual need for you?" Sherlock suggested. Many previous partners, and nearly all of the women, had at some point commented that his lack of sexual interest made them feel unattractive. Such feelings often signalled the end of the relationship, because this was an expectation which Sherlock was unable to fulfil and was uninterested in dissembling over.
"No, that's not it exactly…" John hesitated. Sherlock levered himself up on his elbow to lean over and look directly into John's face. John had a little crease between his eyebrows, but he was looking up clearly into Sherlock's face. So he knew what he wanted, but just wasn't sure how to say it.
"Are you unsatisfied with our current arrangement? I thought I had worked out your favourite sequence, but do you wish me to change any elements of the routine?" Sherlock was genuinely surprised when John puffed out a startled laugh.
"Routine? Is that how you think of it?"
"Well, now that I have found the pattern of your favourite moves I can combine them in a different order, if you prefer?" Sherlock frowned. "I want to please you, to pleasure you and make you warm and relaxed. That is when you are most likely to want to cuddle. If you advise me of how to adjust the program, then we can both continue to have our needs met. Is that agreeable to you?"
John sighed. "Did it ever occur to you that there might be more to this than, well…" he trailed off.
"Than what?" Sherlock frowned. "You always come, so I assumed that I was meeting your needs. Is there another need? You'll have to tell me. I don't experience these needs."
John flung an arm over his face. "Oh God, how do I explain this? All right, think about solving mysteries. Is it more satisfying to get a simple answer in under three minutes, or to tease out a complicated problem and only get there after a long series of deductions?"
Sherlock was baffled. "Are you saying you want your orgasms to be more complicated?"
"Argh!" John was blushing furiously. "Look, why don't you just try it and experiment. Pretend you don't know what I like at all. Try something different, try taking your time and exploring my reactions a bit."
Sherlock frowned. "But I do know what you like. This experiment is not an efficient use of our time."
John groaned, and it wasn't his usual orgasm-groan but more like his I-need-a-cup-of-tea-to-deal-with-you-groan.
"All right." Sherlock curled up against John's back. "I'll look into it for tomorrow night, if that would be acceptable to you?"
"Fine. Let's go to sleep."
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The next night Sherlock seemed different somehow. As they ate dinner Sherlock kept putting little extra bits on John's plate. Sherlock never ate much himself, but usually he didn't care what John ate either. Now he was exclaiming over finding a mushroom in their chow mien and proudly giving it to John. The whole performance reminded John of a cat presenting its owner with a dead mouse.
After dinner Sherlock made them both tea. It was a funny grey colour and John had no idea how Sherlock had managed to produce that effect with perfectly normal tea bags, but he refrained from comment. He just had to see where all this was leading, and why Sherlock felt it was necessary.
John flopped down in front of the telly, and Sherlock sat beside him on the couch, somewhat closer than he normally would. Then Sherlock tried to lean down and put his head on John's shoulder, except that being much taller than John it didn't really work. Sherlock cricked his neck far enough to rest on the top of John's shoulder, but then toppled over completely as John leapt up off the couch.
"Sherlock! What is the matter with you?" John demanded.
Sherlock looked crestfallen. "I did some research. I found many websites with the search terms pleasing your man and I thought I would try some out." He huffed angrily. "You asked me to try something new, so I am. You could at least show some appreciation!"
John sat down again and gathered Sherlock into his arms. "Oh love, I didn't mean that you needed to change everything. I just wanted a little… well… variety in the bedroom. I don't want you to become a 50's wife or whatever else it is that you've been reading that men want."
Sherlock sighed. "It has been rather difficult to decide which websites were correct about what men want, since all were obviously written by women in the first place. However, they did have some intriguing suggestions for the bedroom. Would you like to try them out?"
John's interest was piqued. "I suppose so," he said, "as long as they don't involve lingerie."
"Well, I decided to give that section a miss for now," said Sherlock, "but there were several other variations which I would like to try out, if you are agreeable?"
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John lay down in the middle of the bed, naked and without any blankets, as instructed. He was a little cold, but curious enough to play along with Sherlock's new experiment. Sherlock was in his pyjamas as he lay down beside John without touching him.
"Now, I want you to place your hands above your head, hands folded together against the headboard of the bed," Sherlock instructed. John did so. "And close your eyes." John bit his lip nervously.
"I'm not going to blindfold or bind you, this isn't some BDSM scene," Sherlock reassured him. "I just want you to focus on your body's sensations without vision to distract you."
John allowed his eyelids to flutter shut. Sherlock started by lightly tracing his fingers down John's chest. He tugged gently on some of the lightly scattered blonde chest hairs and scratched teasingly at John's nipples before tickling his way down John's ribs and belly towards his rapidly rising cock. He gave the interested erection a few light strokes on his way past but then shifted to John's knees, tickling and circling around until John squeaked a protest. Then, settling himself comfortably between John's knees he stroked up the insides of John's thighs, excruciatingly slowly, moving first his left hand a few centimetres then his right, until finally he arrived back at John's weeping erection.
Sherlock noted with interest that despite minimal touch, John was harder than he had ever seen him. The head of his cock was swollen and the foreskin completely retracted. Sherlock could not recall having seen this happen spontaneously before and decided that perhaps there was something in this "foreplay" idea after all.
He grasped the shaft firmly in his right hand, ignoring John's groan of relief, and experimentally swiped his tongue roughly across the whole head. He felt the leap under his hand and tongue as a shock of pleasure jolted through John's whole body. Interesting.
He tried again, this time circling his tongue all the way around the head of John's cock, carefully keeping the rough side in contact. He rubbed the tip of his tongue firmly against the underside of the glans and felt as well as heard John's heartfelt groan of pleasure. This was more gratifying than he had expected. John didn't taste bad either. He had been a little concerned about the taste. He hadn't really know what to expect but John was warm and smooth in his mouth and the only taste was a sort of muskiness which was not unpleasant.
He ran his tongue over the tip of John's erection a few more times, then decided it was time to experiment further. He took the head of John's cock into his mouth and sucked on it lightly. The whole thing didn't fit into his mouth, so he used his hand to stroke the rest of the shaft in time with the movement of his lips. John didn't object. In fact John seemed to be enjoying the whole experiment immensely. He was lying still and letting Sherlock do whatever he wanted without offering any directions or corrections. Sherlock liked the feeling of being in control.
After moving his hand and lips up and down the shaft for a while, Sherlock noticed a new taste. John's cock was leaking a kind of salty liquid. Sherlock pulled back for a moment to have a closer look. The fluid was clear, not the viscous milk of ejaculate. This must be the "pre-come" that he had read about. This meant that all was going according to plan, and in a few minutes he would have to decide if he was going to swallow the real thing.
He thought there would be time for one last experiment for the evening and opening his mouth and throat as wide as possible, swallowed down as much of John's straining erection as he could manage. He squeezed the remaining shaft with his right hand and reached around with his left to press the sensitive patch of skin behind John's balls. He could almost imagine he was pressing on John's prostate. Whatever it was he did, John unquestionably liked it. He was groaning and thrusting his hips into Sherlock's mouth in small, desperate motions as if he was trying to hold back but was unable to keep completely still.
Sherlock kept his hand and mouth where they were, and let John thrust a bit harder, setting his own pace. His jaw was starting to ache a bit from keeping his mouth open wide for so long, but he tried not to think about that. He concentrated instead on applying his tongue again to the sensitive tip and underside of John's cock while also applying pressure to the shaft with his lips. That did it, and John was groaning and shuddering under his hands and suddenly his mouth and throat were full of quick pulses of warm salty fluid, almost more than he was able to swallow. He thought for a minute he was going to choke, but he swallowed again and the sensation disappeared.
He sat up and looked at John who was lying bonelessly sprawled across the bed, panting and sweaty, still with his eyes closed. Sherlock put a hand on John's chest and could feel his heart pounding away, and all because of him; what he had done and how he had made John feel. On impulse, he leaned forward and pressed his ear to John's chest. Now he could hear and feel John's deep breathing and rapid heartbeat. He wrapped his arms around John's waist and they lay together for several minutes as they both slowly recovered from the intensity of the experience.
"So, what did you think of the experiment?" Sherlock finally ventured.
John chuckled low in his chest, and Sherlock could feel his voice rumbling under his cheek. "I think if you do that very often I will have a heart attack – I'm not seventeen any more!"
Sherlock sat up and pretended to pout. "But this is just the beginning! I have lots more experiments to do yet – there were so many websites and I have lots more bookmarked for future experimental protocols."
"Oh, all right." John sighed. "If you really want to, we can have another go at it."
"Tonight?" Sherlock asked hopefully.
"No, not tonight. Tomorrow." John yawned.
"Early?" Sherlock persisted. "I have something in particular in mind."
"Not any earlier than 0600 hours, that's my final offer."
"Agreed." Sherlock made a mental note to wake up at 0530 and make some preparations. There was a whole world of new experiments ahead, and just as soon as John was rested enough to participate again he had some lovely new toys he wanted to try out…
Well, I hope you enjoyed that. It was my first attempt at writing asexuality, but if it met with approval I might write a second chapter to this. I have one little idea - which is that there are not enough threesomes in the world.
Reviews are love, and encourage me to write more. ConCrit is what I live for, and if you send me some I will kiss your feet and love you forever.