Johnlock one shot
I don't own Sherlock! And this is my first fanfic so please be nice.
John followed swiftly behind Sherlock as he bounded up the stairs to their apartment, no doubt he was excited about the new case. A man and a woman were found stuck in a car at the bottom of the River Thames which had apparently been driven off a bridge in a car crash. It appeared as a fatal accident but of course Sherlock had seen differently. Now up the stairs and in the living room, Sherlock found himself sprawled on the couch and clapped his hands, "Ah John, a double homicide! Although this may be a quick one, the murderer was certainly careless leaving so much obvious evidence behind." John stood on the other side of the room and didn't bother asking, he knew Sherlock would explain without so much as curious look given. "And how daft can the Yard be?! Thinking it was an accident, the signs were all there! The car tire marks went immediately to the right showing they had been hit from the rear into the water. The car door was obviously opened again once under the water, if it had been sealed the entire time the inside wouldn't have been as bloated from water exposure, no windows were down therefore it would have taken water a much longer time to get in by itself. And although the couple had cuts and obvious head trauma, the crash wouldn't have killed them. A man must have come down and placed-" "Sherlock!" John finally spoke up. "Listen, I know you're excited about the case and have a lot to evaluate, but it's been an exhausting day for me and I really need some sleep." Sherlock huffed and sat up, "I thought we were going to dinner. It's the only reason we left the crime scene early." Sighing and rubbing his eyes, John replied, "I know we did and I'm sorry but I can't do it tonight. I'm not hungry anymore and I can't stay up any longer." Sherlock stood up abruptly, knocking over a few books and walking towards the bedroom, "Fine, John. Go to bed. I don't care, I'll probably retire to my room as well." "Oh great, so now you're having a little temper tantrum like a two year old, over dinner."
He turned around with a fury in his eyes,"Well excuse me if I'm a little upset that I had to put off a case and put my job on hold just so I could do nothing at my apartment!"
"You?! Your job on hold?! Are you kidding me Sherlock? I'm the one who puts up with every excessive annoying thing you do! I put up with the countless hours of violin playing in the morning, the heads the fridge, and I always put you first! I go out of my way to help you with your work and I've had my life put in danger over you! But of course this is my problem too and you're the one who thinks he has the right to complain!"
Somehow during the argument, Sherlock and John had becoming so exceedingly close, every breath was felt by the other. Sherlock stood towering silently over John, a calm and understanding look on his face. He inched another step towards John, speaking in a deep and husky voice, "And why do you always put me first John?"
A warning voice replied, "Sherlock."
"Well?"
No response.
A tension-filled silence washed over them. Suddenly, John found it to be extremely hot and stuffy in the space between them, his breathing hitched. A bead of sweat forming on the back of his neck, Sherlock thought the same. However, it was not enough to make either of them stand down, although neither of them could remember what they were standing their ground for.
After a few minutes of staring, Sherlock decided to try an experiment on impulse and closed the distance between them. His hands came up to pull him closer and his lips crashed down to meet John's. The kiss wasn't gentle, but rough and passionate. Two years worth of sexual tension, flooding and working itself out into one kiss. John at first was still but even with all the thoughts racing through his mind, he couldn't deny he didn't feel something. His lips slowly reciprocated the kiss and he reached up to grab the lapels of Sherlock's coat.
They coaxed each other's mouths open, John's tongue sliding over the other man's lips, begging for entrance.
Sherlock, happy to oblige, moved John up against the wall and ran his fingers through his hair. Their tongues, both battling for dominance, were interrupted when John abruptly pulled away.
His mouth swollen and his hair mussed, he untangled himself from Sherlock. His face confused and jumbled, he tried to speak, "Sherlock...I. I'm sorry I can't. I just can't." He ran to his room, slamming the door and leaving behind a very aroused and bewildered Sherlock. Alone in the living room, Sherlock ghosted his plump lips with his fingers and tried to understand what kind of sensation he was feeling. All the while, both of them prayed one another would forget what had just happened.