I own nothing.
A difference a day makes
"Sherlock" John started, fully aware that the detective was beyond hearing him. "Sherlock" The doctor tried again.
The detective continued to stare at the papered wall of their living room, his eyes unfocused, his hands together at his mouth in his usual 'thinking' pose.
"Sherlock Holmes" John called, sternly this time.
After another silence that lasted well over a minute, the soldier took to physical violence; he walked briskly toward the detective's side and raised his hand in a loose fist, pulling it back before catapulting it forward and blinking in surprise when Sherlock caught it without looking.
"I am thinking" Sherlock hissed, turning his narrowed steel coloured eyes so very slowly toward John in a warning.
"I am feeding you if you do not feed yourself" John muttered just as fiercely, keeping his eyes cold and trained on Sherlock's. His hand remained fisted inside Sherlock's palm between their faces as Sherlock leaned forward, his face intimidatingly close.
"Make me" Sherlock threatened.
John took a step back ward and the detective released his hand, still keeping eye contact, John raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
"What?" Sherlock asked, his own lone eyebrow rising quizzically.
"You shouldn't have said that" John murmured darkly.
Sherlock laughed. "What are you going to do? Throw yourself at me in a Rugby Ta-!" The detective mocked before being winded as a John shaped object hit him full force in the stomach and took him down to the floor.
John moved quickly; pinning the detective to the floor with the remainder of his strength.
"You." He said through gritted teeth as the lanky man wriggled unsuccessfully beneath him. "Will." John continued, finally grasping the two of Sherlock's wrists and raising them above the detective's head. "Eat" John finished with his other forearm across the younger mans' windpipe.
"How dramatic, John" Came an all too familiar oily voice from the top of the staircase behind the scene.
"Hi Mycroft" John said cheerily, unflinching at being found this way as he continued to look down at his captured prey.
Sherlock's eyes widened before he scowled at the Doctor.
"Now, now, Sherlock. Do as the Doctor tells you." Mycroft tutted from his position standing over the two men. "Shall I hand you the food, John?" Mycroft asked with an amused tone.
"Oh, would you? That would be great." John replied in a higher tone than normal as he added a smile.
"Get off me, John" Sherlock growled.
"Not on your nelly" John said as he pinned his knees tighter either side of the detective's thighs, completely immobilising him.
Mycroft came toward the two carefully, laying down a plate of scones and jam.
"Thank you, Mycroft" John said quietly, not moving from his current holding position.
"You are very welcome, John. I will leave you both to it." The older brother said seriously before leaving the room and letting the door click quietly closed behind him.
"Sherlock." John started over. "You are going to sit up. You are going to eat what I give you. You are going to drink some water. And after exactly 20 minutes of rest, you return to your work. Do you understand me?" The doctor growled harshly, his dark eyes large and unyielding.
Sherlock stared at his flatmate, feeling the fear that all Dr Watson's enemies must feel, the man was terrifying. Staring unblinkingly up at John, Sherlock opened his mouth to answer smartly before John's free hand muffled his mouth closed.
"Do you understand?" John repeated, his eyes narrowing.
Sherlock caved and nodded.
"Good" John answered shortly, slowly lifting himself from the other man.
Sherlock sat up and looked up at the soldier sulkily, realising his escape would be impossible, he simply sat with his back propped up by the back of the tattered old couch and pulled the scones towards him.
John watched over the detective until the last crumb had been consumed. Without a word, the doctor bent to retrieve the empty plate and walked to the kitchen. Pouring a glass of water, John marched back toward the detective and oversaw the lanky man drink all the liquid in the glass.
"Thank you" John said genuinely before sitting back on the floor beside his flatmate.
"Why do you do that?" Sherlock murmured quietly.
"What?" John asked, tilting his head to look up at the photographs attached to the wallpaper.
"Make me eat and then thank me for doing so" Sherlock said in the tone of 'obviously'.
John sighed. "You are going to kill yourself if you do not do the things that your body requires" he answered.
"Why should that bother you?" Sherlock asked questioningly.
"You are my friend, Sherlock. Well, you are more than that, but, London needs you, I keep you alive for them and for me" John answered truthfully, following it up with a manly cough.
"What do you mean….more than a friend?" Sherlock probed curiously.
John laughed and lay his head back against the leather of the couch. "You are my flatmate, my friend, my colleague. You fixed my PTSD, you brought me back to life, you give me purpose. You aren't just a friend, Sherlock" John laughed again "You are a way of life". He finished with a smile.
Sherlock turned his head now to face his flatmate, allowing his sharp eyes to roam the face he knew so well.
"Does that bother you?" Sherlock queried interestedly.
"Why should it bother me?" John asked, tilting his head toward Sherlock.
"You do not have a…life of your own" The detective said slowly.
"Yes I do" John said, laying his left hand down on top of Sherlock's own that rested together in his lap. "I'm needed. And that's all that matters".
Sherlock looked down at their hands and slowly turned his over underneath the doctor's. John felt his fingers weave comfortingly between the long slender fingers of his flatmate and smiled.
"Will you-" Sherlock started, swallowing sharply as his voice wavered ever so slightly "Will you always feel that way?" he asked eventually.
"Will you always need me?" John retorted, looking from Sherlock's chin to his forehead in a profile sweeping way.
"Of course" Sherlock said immediately.
"Then yes, I will always be here…with you" John said with another heart rendering genuine smile.
Sherlock turned toward the doctor with a smile of his own, he felt suddenly, embarrassed – not something he felt used to – but his hand tightened around John's never-the-less.
After a moment of comfortable silence between the two, Sherlock's mind began to whirr with unanswered questions and he simply had to enquire.
"Why do you date then?" Sherlock questioned curiously.
"Company mostly. You know, the comfortable company, affectionate company" John tried to explain.
Sherlock frowned "Can I not supply that?" he asked, a little lost in this conversation.
John chuckled. "Sherlock, you could not provide the affection that I look for but thank you regardless" he said with a squeeze of his hand.
"What affection do you require?" Sherlock asked, his voice becoming just a little mechanical in his exploration into John's mind.
"Surely you know affection?" John asked incredulously.
"Deleted it" Sherlock retorted flatly.
"See, that's what I mean, you do not even understand affection, therefore you could not possibly give it" John said tiredly.
"Tell me" Sherlock asked.
"Do you really not know?" John asked. He sighed when Sherlock shook his head. "Hugs, cuddles, kisses, soft words, a companion, a best friend that you tell everything to – no matter how embarrassing or trivial, going out and enjoying dates, holding hands…" The doctor halted as they both looked down at their conjoined hands in the detectives' lap.
Looking up simultaneously, the two men caught each others gaze before John awkwardly coughed and scrambled to his feet, ripping his hand away from the detectives'.
"I'm going to – go put the kettle on. Tea?" John asked hastily.
Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but before a word was said, John continued "Good yes, tea it is, right".
Sherlock got to his feet and stared in confusion as the doctor retreated into the kitchen.
"Why are you being odd?" Sherlock asked bluntly, following John stealthily, buttoning up his suit jacket as he moved.
"I'm not being odd" John countered hastily, not looking at the detective.
"Then why are you avoiding eye contact" Sherlock prised as he side-stepped to stop the doctor in his tracks. John focussed very hard on Sherlock's blazer lapel; eye level with him.
Sherlock tilted his head down to study the doctor's face.
"You are embarrassed that we were showing each other affection" Sherlock stated seeing John's blush spread the expanse of his well travelled cheek.
John set his jaw and froze in position. His hasty heartbeat displayed clearly by the tick in his cheek.
"Why would you be embarrassed? A doctor who has been in situations that would make a hardy female nurse blush or a very well built man cry, why would such a man be embarrassed about holding hands with a friend?" Sherlock scripted as he watched his friend closely, the observations starting to slow. "Ah" Sherlock eventually said in realisation as John allowed his eyes to travel nervously up to Sherlock's throat before back to the dark lapel and he swallowed thickly, licking his lips.
Reaching a hand out, Sherlock confidently cupped the doctor's cheek, he watched the flinch with eager eyes before softly and gently running his hand down to the soldiers' neck. Halting his long deft fingers there, Sherlock could subtly monitor his friend's heart rate as he brought his face closer.
"Could it be…that you desire affection from me?" The detective whispered, allowing his breath to tickle John's cheek. "That you didn't think me capable and therefore dismissed the fantasies as just fantasies?"
Sherlock smirked as he felt the slight shiver pass through the doctor.
Ever so slowly, Sherlock lowered his face more so that his eyes met John's.
"I am capable, John. I just choose not to act upon my libido. If you need affection from me. Take it" The detective said bluntly.
"W-what?" John finally stammered, lifting his gaze to the detective.
"Take what you need from me, I am unaware of affection, but I would rather that you share it with me than with some tart you find amongst the commonwealth" Sherlock explained dully.
"A-are you saying…that you – you - would quite happily spend an evening cuddled up to me – Cuddled - watching a film and eating junk food?" John asked blankly.
"If it pleased you to do so, yes" Sherlock answered with a nod, his eyes travelling toward the kettle as it hissed its task completion.
John raised an index finger between their faces "Hold that…this…hold that right there" he said numbly before turning toward the kettle and removing it sharply from the hob, flicking the stove off at the wall, he returned to his recently vacated spot in front of Sherlock.
"You do realise that that defeats the whole purpose of dating" John said slowly.
"What does?" Sherlock asked with a furrowed brow.
"You date, when the other person likes you the same way that you like them. One sided…well; it's pointless for both parties." John said with a shrug of his shoulders.
"I see." Sherlock said thoughtfully, fixing John with a renewed focus, the detective continued; "Would it help at all if you knew that I started this conversation because I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to stop you from leaving me?" he said flatly, putting his hands now in his tailored trousers and continuing to stare at John. "That I simply wanted to find a solution for you leaving the flat every evening because I miss you when you are not here?" he continued, tilting his head to the side, his cold and piercing blue eyes catching the Doctors' and instantly observing the shock so clearly written on the soldiers' face. "That I play violin at night to keep you from nightmares?" John blinked and continued to look up at Sherlock blankly. "That you getting married is my biggest fear, you distract me from my work on cases almost every day and yet I only ever smile when you are in my presence?"
The resounding silence that followed found the two men staring at each other with only inches between them. It was now that the doctor pounced, stepping immediately on tip toes to smash his lips into the detectives' own forcefully. Sherlock stumbled back in surprise but the doctor kept their lips sealed together, pushing Sherlock against their refrigerator.
To Sherlock's surprise, John emitted a deep groan against his lips and the detective found his own lips opening in reply, his eyes rolled closed as he felt John's tongue breach the gap and his mouth suddenly filled with the taste of the soldier. John was only just getting started as he greedily pushed the annoying suit blazer from the taller man's shoulders – exposing the purple shirt that the man so loved to wear. As if reminding himself who he was kissing, John's steady hands suddenly reached into the detective's wild dark curls and lightly tugged at them to tilt the younger man's head to a better angle.
Sherlock catalogued every movement and taste, replying in imitation; making the doctor moan and sigh satisfactorily, his hands travelled tentatively round the shorter man's torso, coming to rest on his lower shoulder blades before pulling the soldier flush against him. Sherlock was now the one to release an embarrassing sound from his throat at the sensation of body against body.
The sound was so lust-filled and unusual that John simply had to pull away and assess their rather crumpled and flustered situation.
Each man studied each other's flushed faces and swollen lips as they caught their breath.
"I may be wrong" Sherlock wheezed as he watched the doctor, appearing slightly awestruck. "But I think that was more than just affection" he said with a small smile.
John bit his lip in reply.
"Would you mind if we continued?" Sherlock asked bluntly.
John now smiled widely, stepping forward once more to lean against the detective wordlessly, kissing him passionately.
Sherlock smiled and wrapped his arms lazily over John's shoulders, the doctor's own hands tugging at the purple shirt as his lips and tongue worked wonders to undress the detectives' mind.
Sherlock jumped when John's warm fingers brushed against untouched soft skin. John pulled away with a concerned expression.
"What am I doing?" John asked numbly, looking up at Sherlock as he steadied the taller man against the fridge. "You've never been touched this way have you?" the Doctor panicked; his breath still raggedy from the passionate kiss they had shared.
Sherlock looked down at John with slightly wide eyes.
"No" He breathed eventually, truthfully.
"Sherlock" John whispered in a mixture of awe and pity. "Come here" He encouraged, taking the taller man's shaking hand in his steady one, John led Sherlock to his own room.
"Lie down" John instructed, turning the lights in the room off and standing by the door. Sherlock was strangely obedient and approached the bed, laying flat.
"Undo your shirt" John whispered, watching as deft fingers immediately did as they were told and unbuttoned every shirt button until the soft but strong skin was revealed in full. John swallowed thickly before palming his own trousers calmingly, he leaned back against the door and kept his eyes glued on the tall man.
"Run a flat palm from your throat, to the top of your trousers, slowly" John said calmly.
Sherlock shivered under his own attentions and John saw his eyes fix on him through the dark.
"Undo your trousers and take yourself in hand" John said smoothly, an element of huskiness in his gentle tone.
Sherlock did again as he was told, surprised by the hold his body had over his brain for the first time in his life.
"Now, move your hand from base to tip, repeat this until you feel your abdomen start to burn pleasantly." John said, now pressing harder against his trousers in an attempt to calm his own body's desires. Sherlock had to feel it first, had to feel release, or it would be too much at once for him to handle if they were to continue their earlier activities.
"John" Sherlock whimpered from the bed, his other hand taking artistic licence and touching his torso as John had done before.
"I'm here" John reassured gently from the shadows.
"P-please…John…kiss me" Sherlock stuttered, the closeness to the edge obvious in his voice and now erratic movements.
John did not need to be asked twice as he crossed the room in two strides to stand beside the bed. Leaning down, John cupped the detective's slightly sweaty face, admiring his angles closely. As Sherlock moaned for him again, John ran a thumb across the detectives' bottom lip before leaning further down to kiss him softly.
The doctor held the detective down as the impending orgasm took control of his elegant body. Sherlock panicked, clinging to John throughout the waves of chaotic pleasure, the only solid thing keeping him grounded.
John felt the detective writhe, moan and arch beneath him as he continued the kiss, aware that it was hardly being reciprocated, but knowing the reason why. Sherlock's mind had ground to a halt. The large and smartly shining golden cogs inside the detectives' machine – like brain had come to a standstill, the silence overpowering him.
Breaking the kiss, John allowed his hands to soothe the sides of Sherlock's face as he looked down at the younger man, currently in his post coital bliss.
It was definitely a privileged sight to behold; those usually so sharp and cold eyes were now open but unfocused, almost black in colour save for the light grey rims. His jaw was slack as his mouth hung very slightly open; his hair was flat to his head, damp with sweat and his skin was flushed all over. Even in the dark of the room; John could tell his detective was gorgeous.
"Come back to me, Sherlock" John murmured softly, still standing beside the bed, almost bent double to kiss him gently.
"-ohn" Sherlock said without moving his mouth or tongue.
"I'm here" John said again, kissing a cheekbone lovingly.
Finally, his eyes twitched and blinked rapidly, focussing on John himself. He coughed slightly and swallowed, closing his mouth and licking his lips haphazardly.
John laughed lightly. "You had quite a trip" The doctor remarked with a smile.
"I-it was quiet, John. So quiet" Sherlock whispered, his eyes searching John's; for what, the doctor didn't know.
John turned and sat on the edge of the bed, his hand laying lightly on the centre of the detectives' chest.
"It is meant to be" John explained quietly. "Personal bliss" he continued.
"You-?" Sherlock started but John interrupted.
"We will get to that. For now, I want you to experiment with yourself – get used to the feeling of being touched. It will be less over-whelming for you when we…" John whispered, raising his eyebrows suggestively instead of finishing his sentence.
After a moment, Sherlock propped himself up on an elbow and looked at John lustfully.
"I want to be over-whelmed" He said, his voice now gruff as he reached out and tugged John toward him. "I want you to show me how you would touch me" he continued.
John swallowed and shivered simultaneously as he went where he was tugged. A few minutes later, the pair were de-clothed and clutching at one another under a Sherlock-smelling duvet. John was inclined to think that he was more over-whelmed than Sherlock would be by the surrounding smell and feel of his flatmate against him. Every inch of skin against skin burned as though on fire, Sherlock clutched the smaller man to him tightly as their lips locked for what felt like the hundredth time, yet it still wasn't enough.
John was surprised by Sherlock's already renewed excitement as he ground forward into his lovers' sharp hips, the two of them hitching their breath and freezing still at the contact.
"Christ" John panted against Sherlock's lips as his skin came into contact with Sherlock's earlier release, slicking him in warmth. "Sherlock" John panted, managing with a little force to turn them so that he was on top. "God, Sherlock, I need you" the soldier moaned as he rutted against the younger man.
Sherlock moaned in reply, arching his back and maximising his contact with the doctor as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. John moaned at the sight of it, without knowing why; the doctor immediately covered the elegant throat with his hand, squeezing lightly as he continued to mindlessly rut, their most sensitive organs in constant and glorious friction. The room started to smell masculine and sweaty as the two continued in this fashion for several minutes before crying out each others' names hoarsely, spending themselves almost simultaneously.
John rode out his orgasm before collapsing heavily on top of the – again, dumbstruck – detective. This was how they awoke the following day.
Sherlock was suddenly aware of being very warm as he came back into consciousness after – easily – the longest sleep he had had since teenage years. He tried to move but found that he couldn't; pinned on all sides by something rather heavy. Opening his eyes, Sherlock found himself faced with a mop of dark blonde / grey hair. In a rush; the detectives' photographic memory kicked into overdrive; whirring images through the forefront of his mind. His eyes travelled from left to right across the ceiling as he saw each one in HD detail. He remembered the touch of the doctor, the kisses, the gentle voice, the pleasure and the cries from the soldier's lips in amongst the waves of chaos. The detective tried in vain to catalogue every single momentary event.
Suddenly Sherlock was on the couch in the living room of 221B, John was fussing in the kitchen. How did he get there? Had John carried him? Had last night actually happened or had he disappeared into the Mind Palace once more?
Looking down at himself in confusion; Sherlock surmised that he had been dressed. His t-shirt was bunched up haphazardly and his dressing gown was hanging off a shoulder.
"Ah, you're back" John said warmly as he handed Sherlock a plate of buttered toast.
"What?" Sherlock asked distractedly.
"You were, doing your mind palace thing" John said vaguely, waving an arm in signal.
"How did I get here?" Sherlock asked dumbly.
"I dressed you and walked you through" John said slowly.
"You do that often" Sherlock observed.
"Sometimes…dressing you is new though" John said with a smirk, bending down to capture an impromptu kiss.
Sherlock smirked, last night had happened after all.
"Eat, Sherlock" John said encouragingly as he moved reluctantly away.
Sherlock instantly remembered the Doctor's actions the previous day when the detective had ignored strict instructions to eat. He pushed his plate across the coffee table with one elegant finger and watched John expectantly.
"Sherlock" John warned, hearing the plate's protests against the hard wood of their coffee table.
Sherlock adorned his most innocent look toward the doctor but continued to push his plate away from him.
John leant against the kitchen bunker and watched his detective.
"Oh, I see" John said eventually, reading Sherlock a lot clearer and quicker than the detective himself expected.
Within seconds, John had catapulted across the room and knocked Sherlock to the floor, their breaths were uneven as they laughed, John on top of Sherlock, pinning him to the floorboards.
"I see a pattern forming here" Came the English drawl of Sherlock's' brother. If there was one thing to break the mood that was it; John scampered to his feet and scrabbled toward the kitchen hastily, a hand behind his head, scratching his neck awkwardly.
"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, unmoved from his laying down position on the floorboards.
"Your help" Mycroft replied shortly. He stood above Sherlock and handed him the file. Sherlock looked up at Mycroft with distain.
"I'm not taking cases at the moment" Sherlock said nonchalantly, making John and Mycroft stare at him incredulously.
"And why not?" Mycroft asked in a fake smile.
"I'm taking a holiday" Sherlock said deftly getting to his feet and dodging Mycroft.
"A holiday?" Mycroft and John both asked simultaneously.
"A holiday" Sherlock confirmed, opening the fridge and almost clambering inside it to see his latest experiment.
John smiled as Mycroft rolled his eyes before quietly leaving.
"A holiday then, you going anywhere nice?" John asked teasingly.
"Depends" Sherlock said from inside the fridge door.
"On what?" John probed.
"You" Sherlock said standing up abruptly and fixing John with a stare.
"Me?" John asked incredulously.
"Where would you like to go?" Sherlock asked, closing the door of the fridge and facing John with a straight face.
John smirked. He raised his hands to Sherlock's hips and clutched them wantonly.
"There's only one place on my mind right now" John said huskily as he pulled Sherlock toward him. "Its' warm, cosy, romantic and has a great smell" John murmured against Sherlock's lips, loving how the eyebrow of the detective arched individually.
"Does this place…have a name?" Sherlock asked in a breathy whisper, watching John closely.
"Bed" John said shortly, smiling as Sherlock laughed.
The End