TURN THE PAGE OR CLOSE THE BOOK.
Spoilers: The Hounds of Baskerville, The Reichenbach Fall.
A/N This is a sequel of sorts to The Road to Damascus. It helps if you've read it, but it's not vital. I absolutely love these two together, they make my very old, very tarnished heart happy. And I swore I'd never do another chaptered fic again…*sigh*
CHAPTER ONE
It would take some time to process exactly what had happened to them that night but, for now, John, Sherlock and Greg shared a meal in the Cross Keys dining room washed down with several glasses of the house plonk.
John usually liked to talk about their cases afterwards so they were set in his mind, all ready to be transferred to his blog. He kept getting distracted by the image of a man being torn apart by a land mine. He thought he'd seen the last of that when he left Afghanistan.
The other two were equally as quiet. John didn't think Sherlock had forgiven Greg for obeying Mycroft's orders and interfering, the conversation, such as it was consisted of remarks about the excellence of the food and what time they would have to leave to get back to London.
Greg yawned and announced that he was going to bed, bidding the other two goodnight. He left his room key briefly on the table as he picked up his jacket, the number clearly visible.
Sherlock followed him not long afterwards, reminding John not to stay up too late.
John merely smiled and drained the last of his wine, placing the glass on the table. He checked his watch, ten minutes should have been long enough. The pub was emptying and people were settling down for the night.
John went up the stairs as quietly as possible and knocked softly on the door. It opened and he stepped inside as Greg locked it behind him, a broad grin on his face.
"Hello, John."
"God, I've missed you," exclaimed John, throwing his arms around Greg, melting into him as their lips met.
Their kisses grew more passionate and demanding as they undressed each other, John's hands gliding over Greg's tanned skin as it was revealed, guiding him backwards until Greg was sprawled on the bed with John on top of him, so close he could feel Greg's frantic heartbeat.
John itched to explore but Greg wasn't going to let him have it all his own way, deftly pinning john to the bed, warm trailing kisses along his collar bone, the tip of Greg's tongue teasing the scar tissue on John's shoulder making him moan aloud.
"Tell me what you want," whispered Greg, before returning to his ministrations.
Soon John was begging him shamelessly and Greg was more than willing, lost in sensation and the exquisite pleasure of it. His name on Greg's lips like poetry, feeling the heat build in his own belly, welcoming it, crying out his release as it swept through him.
They talked afterwards as they always did. John rested his head on Greg's shoulder, his arm around Greg's waist.
"So, was it a good holiday? You're very brown."
"Lonely, to be honest. Lovely weather and all that but you need someone to share it with."
"I suppose you do."
"Tell you what did happen while I was away though."
"What?" Greg smiled.
"My divorce came through."
"Blimey, that was quick!" exclaimed John.
"Uncontested on the grounds of her adultery. I'm a free man."
"Just as well yours wasn't mentioned," grinned John. Greg pretended to strangle him.
"Technically it was only adultery once. Every other time since with you doesn't count. She and I were separated."
"Technically?"
"Yeah," Greg kissed him. "Technically."
John was growing drowsy and Greg could sense it.
"Will you stay?" he asked.
"Not planning on going anywhere," replied John, nestling closer.
John was woken early next morning by Greg kissing him. He could think of no better alarm clock and responded with enthusiasm. When they made love, it was slow and tender and John relished every second, unsure of when they would get another chance like this and he felt a twinge of sadness and he dressed and slipped quietly out of Greg's room.
In his own room, he showered and changed and rumpled the bedsheets for the look of the thing. It was time to head back to Baker Street.
As they were waiting for the taxi to take them to the railway station, Sherlock leaned in and wrinkled his nose.
"You reek of Lestrade, John."
John went absolutely scarlet but Sherlock went on.
"I'm not sure I approve."
"That's not up to you, Sherlock," said John angrily.
"I suppose not. If whatever you two have keeps you happy."
"I don't know what we have," sighed John. Sherlock looked baffled as he always did when it came to emotions.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"It's complicated."
Greg had beaten them back to Baker Street. He had a new case which made Sherlock smile. Then he asked John if they could have a word.
Downstairs, just behind the front door Greg looked seriously at John and said
"This friends with benefits. It's been brilliant but I wonder if you'd consider, oh, I dunno, taking it up a notch?"
John smiled. "You want to stop sneaking around and tell everyone?"
"Well, yes. I mean, I'm probably too old for you and I'm certainly a workaholic but what we have is great. I want everyone else to know that as well."
"Me too, "smiled John. "I'd be more than happy to be your boyfriend."
Greg's expression was one of utter delight as John put his arms around him.
"Starting now," he whispered and kissed him hard.
TBC
