„What are you doing, Sherlock?"
"Nothing"
"Why did you close your laptop so quickly?"
"I'm telling you, it's nothing. I was looking something up."
"You were looking something up?"
"Yes. I think there is something wrong with me, I am feeling sick. And you know I've never been sick before."
"Oh..well...do you need some medicine? I'm going to the grocery so I could bring you something."
"No, thanks."
John stared at Sherlock, wondering what was wrong with him and why he didn't consult him, a doctor, if he was feeling ill. But this is just the way his best friend was. He didn't look at John during their whole conversation, his hands placed on the laptop.
John turned away, smiling. Even if he knew Sherlock pretty well already, he would never know what was going on in his head.
As soon as John stepped outside, Sherlock opened his laptop again. He had this strange feeling of weakness, his heart was racing from time to time, his stomach didn't feel quite as usual, his head wasn't working as well as it used to and he was feeling dizzy. This never happened to him before. It wasn't good.
And there were those dreams...Those strange dreams of him and John. Strangely enough they were almost the same every night, they were always of a romantic nature, causing Sherlock to wake up in the middle of the night. He tried to shake them away but they just kept coming. This is why he was so tired and maybe this was why he didn't feel well. He knew a lot about people, he knew what they were, what they thought, what they did. But he couldn't help himself out. And this made Sherlock really angry.
He opened the web browser again, typing in his symptoms. Malaria. No. Gastro-enteritis. Nope. He just couldn't find out and if he went to ask John it would mean his defeat against his body. John...no why should he be the reason? A person couldn't make an other person feel sick.
He closed his laptop again and hurried to the mirror. Oh god, he looked terrible. How didn't John notice? He wasn't THAT stupid! His eyes were red, he had dark shadows around his eyes and he looked like he hadn't eaten for days. Maybe he should seriously grab something to eat.
The man sighed and strolled back to the living room, eyes pinned to the floor, wondering what he should do now. Maybe he really should ask John...He was his best friend after all. Ugh. It even hurt him to think those words.
"Sherlock..." John was sitting on the couch, Sherlock's laptop opened on his legs.
"What are you doing with my things?" Sherlock sat down beside him, grabbing his own laptop and closing it again.
"Sherlock, those symptoms..."
"Yeah, what's wrong with them? Just a regular flu" the man lied.
"No, I know what you feel."
"So, tell me, what do I feel, oh omniscient Dr. Watson?" Sherlock mumbled grumpy.
"...did you have some strange thoughts, some dreams lately, being usually accompanied by just one person?"
"What if?"
Sherlock grabbed a bottle of water, taking little sips to loosen his dry throat. What the hell was going on with him...
"Sherlock...you're in love!"
The man choked on the water. "Watson, stop making fun of me, I'm seriously sick. Tell me what's wrong with me!"
"I'm bloody serious." John stared in his eyes, watching him turn gloomy and caught a glimpse of despair in his eyes. "Sherlock, it's okay! Everyone falls in love eventually! Now tell me, who is she?"
"Why would it bother you? And I'm definitely not in love."
"Come on, you are my best friend after all!" he stabbed his elbow into Sherlock's sides, causing the man to jump up from the couch and to sit down in the armchair.
"It's none of your business"
"Oh so you admit having feelings for someone?"
"Never said that."
John stared at him across the room, grinning. He never thought he might see Sherlock Holmes, the mastermind, act like a little teenage girl. It would be hard to get him to tell, who his beloved one was, that was for sure.
Sherlock tried not to look at John. He knew how to hide his feelings. He always did. He would have never guessed the diagnosis and he didn't trust John quite yet. Maybe he was making fun of him. It would be typical. But deep in his brilliant mind Sherlock knew it all along, he just didn't want to admit. He never was in love before.
John stood up and sat down in the chair next to Sherlock, cupping his own face and staring at him.
"I'm still waiting for an answer!", he grinned.
"You'd be waiting forever." Sherlock stood up again, walking towards the couch and lying down on it so John couldn't stare at him.
"Ahaha, this is getting interesting!" John laughed, dragging the chair all the way to the couch and sitting down in front of Sherlock. "Patient S. Holmes, is it right? You have been lovestruck for the first time, am I correct?"
He must have been joking. Was he going to play the psychiatrist for him?
"John please...I'm really not feeling well..."
"Tell me, is it Molly? I know she's trying to get your attention for a while now!..."
"Are you out of your mind?"
"Yes, you're right. Maybe it's Mrs. Hudson!"
No. This was enough.
Sherlock gave John a glance full of hatred, saying: "John, if you don't stop now I'm not going to be nice to you."
"But it's okay! This only proves you're human! Come on, tell me!"
"GET OUT!"
"Whoa, Sherlock...?"
"GET! OUT!"
John looked at him like an insulted child. He stood up, grabbed his coat and off he went.
Sherlock instantly regretted this.
"John..." he sat up on the couch. "John!" he walked down the stairs and opened the door to see where his friend went. He was nowhere to be seen. "Oh no.." Sherlock hurried upstairs, staring through the window, hoping to find him.
"JOHN!"
The people on the streets looked up into his window but none of them was John. Desperate, Sherlock closed the window and grabbed his violin, struggling with his feelings. It always helped him to get rid of strange, unwanted thoughts. After playing a while he came up with a brilliant idea how to make it up to John.
When John returned home after a long walk, trying to calm down after the shock, he couldn't believe his eyes.
"Sherlock, what's going on?" The room was completely cleaned, no mess on the table, no mess on the floor. It even smelled fine.
"Hello, John." Sherlock came out of the kitchen, well dressed and with two glasses of red wine.
"I'm sorry, did I interrupt you? Are you having a date?"
"No, John. I wanted to apologize to you." Sherlock offered John a glass of wine and smiled.
He couldn't believe his eyes. Was this really Sherlock or was it a trick? Was he making fun of him or maybe trying to convince him to travel abroad for him to get some information?
Watson took the glass of wine and they both sat down at the table. Taking a sip, John noticed the quality of the wine. It must have been bloody expensive!
"Sherlock, what is going on?.." he asked, looking into the other man's eyes.
"I already said I owe you an apology. And an explanation. Yes I am in love and maybe, if you're really lucky and desperate to know, I will tell you."
John felt blood rush into his face. He knew, Sherlock would never feel the same way he felt. He just had to move on and accept the fact, that Sherlock was only a man too. Although he hoped, that he would be his forever...solving crimes with him, going on "adventures", just the two of them. But he knew it wouldn't be like this. It just happened too soon. So he sipped on the wine again, smiled and said:
"Yes, I really want to know."
"Well then."
Sherlock stood up and walked towards the window. Staring into the sky, he said with a strangely smooth voice: "John...do you remember our first encounter with Moriarty? I thought I wouldn't be able to save you this day. I thought you would be gone forever and I would lose my...friend..."
John didn't understand.
"When I got you out of this coat I felt a relief I never felt before. I've been having those strange dreams since then."
"What kind of dreams?..."
Sherlock turned around and looked him in the eyes.
"Dreams about you. About us. That's why I can't sleep at night. That's why I always go for a walk and come back when you're awake."
What did he just say?
"Sherlock are you saying..."
"Yes, John. I..."
He grabbed a hold of the chair, sitting down on it and covering his face with his hands. John couldn't believe this. Was the brilliant Sherlock Holmes seriously confessing to him?
"Sherlock..."
"DON'T...interrupt me...I'm trying to concentrate."
After a few deep breaths Sherlock looked up to John again, staring deep inside his eyes.
"John Watson, I love you"
After saying this, he stood up, grabbed his coat and was just about to run outside, fleeing from the responsibility. But John was faster.
He grabbed Sherlock's hand, pulling him into his arms. Although John was a lot smaller than Sherlock, the man felt comforted and safe. But he didn't know what to do. He hesitantly placed his arms around John's neck, pulling him closer to him.
"Sherlock..." John ravished his scent, his touch, his heartbeat. "Sherlock, I love you more than you can imagine..."
Sherlock felt his heart race and his breath become heavy. He loosened his grip on John, grabbing his chin softly and looked down into his eyes. After a few hesitant moments he lowered his lips and pressed them softly against John's. He never did this before so he didn't know if he was doing it right...
John gasped when Sherlock kissed him. This is what he wanted for such a long time...His hands wandered to his beloved one's locks, deepening their kiss. He felt Sherlock's hesitance when their mouths parted and his tongue slid into his lover's mouth. He had to take it easier, but he couldn't.
Sherlock was answering John's kiss, although he found it a bit sloppy. "Well, that's what kissing actually feels like" he thought, loosening up a bit and tracing one hand to Johns neck and staying there. The other one was caressing his back. He thought this would feel fine.
John moaned softly into Sherlock's mouth and let go of their kiss.
"Sherlock...you're driving me crazy...", he panted, sitting down on the couch.
"Did I do something wrong?"the man worried.
"No, it was too good..."
Sherlock sat down beside of John and kissed him again, a bit more confident this time. While they were kissing, they slowly lay down on the couch, Sherlock being on top of John, running his hands down his chest.
"John?!"
Sherlock sat up, shocked. Did he just feel that or was it his imagination?
"Are you...aroused?"
John looked down, embarrassed.
"Well..yes..of course"
Sherlock felt strange. On the one hand it was raising his confidence even more, on the other hand he didn't know what to do with an erection...Especially not when his own arousal blurred his mind.
"Don't worry, Sherlock...I'll tell you if something's wrong, okay?" John caressed Sherlock's cheeks, trying to comfort him. The other man nodded and his hand went down to John's bulge. He unzipped his pants and grabbed Johns hard member, trying to stroke it gently. John gasped at the feeling of Sherlock's hand touching him. He was driving him crazy.
Sherlock watched John's face carefully, trying to memorize everything. He lowered his head and the first thing he noticed was a strong smell of sex. Well...this was normal? He licked John's slit, tasting the salty pre cum. John spasmed under Sherlock's grip. The man gave John's member a few strokes and took it into his mouth, not knowing what to do or how to move. Shocked, he just stayed as he was. John started to buckle his hips into his mouth and he started to move his head up and down on his shaft, still very confused.
"Sherlock...please..." John sighed and pulled out of his lover's mouth. He pulled down his pants and bent over, exposing his very private part. "Please..."
"Now, now, John. You don't want to sound like a prostitute..." Sherlock chuckled nervously. This would be the toughest part.
He unzipped his trousers and let his hard member bounce out of his underwear. John gasped. How was this man a virgin again? He was pretty well shaped!
"Sherlock...you do know how to do this, right?" he asked hesitantly.
"Uhm.." Sherlock didn't know what to say. John grabbed his hand and led it to his entrance. "Just...one at a time okay?.." He said nervously.
Sherlock didn't quite understand what he wanted to tell him but instinctively, he placed one finger on his entrance and let it slide in, slowly. John moaned in pleasure and in pain. He never had sex with a man before so this was a new experience for him as well.
Sherlock moved his finger in and out. After feeling John's entrance widen a bit he added a second finger and then the third. John was panting, not sure about this whole thing. He knew, he wanted Sherlock. He loved him. But he was afraid of the pain. Hell, he was a soldier, he would survive a dick in his butt!
Sherlock's arousal was leaking now. He was never this excited before, not even before his favorite murder case. He knew what happened now would change his and John's life but he didn't stop. He loved him.
Slowly, he entered John, moving in and out in a rhythmic motion. John panted and had to hold back tears. Although he was already stretched enough, no fingers could compare to Sherlock's massive length. But he had to endure it. He wanted to.
Sherlock went deeper with every thrust he made, his breath becoming heavier. When he was fully inside he looked at John: "John...are you alright?"
"Y-yes. Sherlock, I love you."
"I love you too, John"
With these words Sherlock started thrusting into John, gaining speed with every move. John felt Sherlock's member brush a very sensitive spot and he cried out in pleasure, moving his hips in rhythm with his lover's thrusts. Sherlock aimed for that sweet spot and after hearing John moan out loud again he began his assault on this place. John was fighting with tears. He never experienced such pleasure before.
"Sherlock...I'm so close!" He barely managed to tell him that, his voice shaking as hard as his body. Sherlock felt it as well. He felt John's walls clench around him as he spilled his seed all over their precious couch. But Sherlock didn't care. He continued to thrust into his lover and felt his own release coming near. "John.." Sherlock managed to pant out, as he thrust into him for the last time, coming inside him and collapsing on top of him.
The two men laid there in this position for a while, Sherlock on top of John, panting heavily, still inside him, and Watson lying with his face down on the messed up couch.
"Shit." Sherlock said.
"What?"
"We forgot the candles..." He said. John laughed and turned himself to Sherlock, kissing him gently. Sherlock hugged him, although their fluids were all over his body and the couch. He didn't care. He was with John.
"I will never let you go" He whispered in John's ear.
"I hope you won't"