No Homo

By Jiyuu-Chan

John tapped away furiously on his worn down, but functioning laptop. What would John possibly do without that thing? If not for his silly blog, he would forget, and that was what John feared most. He wanted to remember all of it. Every word. Interrupting the doctor's thought, a loud shout was heard coming from the main room.

"BOREDDD." Sherlock growled as he repeatedly opened-fire at the wall nonchalantly with his pistol. Hearing his shenanigans brought a smile to the captain's face. Sherlock laid there on the futon in his bathrobe, completely relaxed, yet anxious in the same instant. They hadn't found a case meeting Sherlock's morbid requirements in several days. John shut his laptop and joined his flat-mate in the main room.

"Let me guess… you're bored." John sat in the armchair beside the distraught detective.

"Completely." Sherlock jumped up and swept his violin from the coffee table in the same motion, moving to the window. He liked to watch the idiots on the street go about their simple lives.

John's forehead wrinkled in frustration. "You know, you don't have to be. There are plenty of cases to take; we can just go down the list and-"

Sherlock laughed. "It must be so easy being you. I would give anything to know what you people possibly could find interesting enough to think about all day."

John rose from his spot on the recliner in full rage. "I HAVE PLENTY TO THINK ABOUT."

"Well I know what you think about, it's plastered all over your blog." He stated blankly without missing a note on his instrument. Taken aback and then thrust forward, the captain inhaled.

"…Y-you read my blog?" John blushed and looked away, hiding his pleasure in the intelligent man's approval. Sherlock turned around, his features intrigued.

"Th-that right there. What was that?" Sherlock stared intensely into his partner's eyes with an extended index finger.

"W-what was what?" John retreated from the main room into the kitchen, grabbing a tea mug in the cupboard with his back to his flat-mate. The detective followed.

"That, right there...Your pupils dilated." John froze, his face turning from pink to red.

"…Uh, no. No they didn't." John shook off Sherlock's implications and proceeded to make a cup of tea. The detective pushed on.

"Yes, yes they did. Your pupils dilated when I complimented you… or when you thought I complimented you, all I said was that I read your blog, but you went ahead and made the assumption that I actually enjoy and find pleasure in reading your frivolous conclusions, which would then lead to the assumption that you are emotionally attached, and not just affectionate, no, that wouldn't be enough to create a reaction, it would have to be on a much more dependent level. Which would mean that you'r—" Sherlock stopped.

John turned around. "What, what does it mean?" John stood there waiting for it to fall out of the detective's mouth.

"It would mean that you're in love with me." The tall man stared at the ground, eyes wide. Sherlock's invasive deduction dusted his cheeks with pink.

"That's completely ridiculous. I'm not even gay." John retorted angrily. "How could that possibly be accurate? You don't know anything about affection. Have you ever even been in love?"

"Of course not, I deduce from observation, not experience. I am a high-functioning sociopath and love is extremely trivial." Sherlock replied defensively.

John rolled his eyes with fury. "That's just like you to say something like that, you insensitive tosser. I suppose you're about to go on about how all emotion is impractical?" John's eyes were bulging, lips cracked. Sherlock had never seen him like this.

A smile graced his lips. "Ohhhh. I see." Sherlock laughed as he advanced towards the doctor.

"W-what. See what?" an annoyed but flustered Watson furrowed his brow.

Sherlock continued to slowly progress in John's direction "You're upset because I exposed your affection for me."

"No, I'm angry because you're an ignorant sod." John quickly refuted.

"So you're admitting that you do have affection for me?"

"For the last fucking time, I AM NOT GAY." The captain exhaled violently.

"No. No of course not. On the contrary, you date women quite frequently, isn't that right?"

"Yes I do."

"And you like it?"

"Love it."

Sherlock slowly came uncomfortably close to John, and leaned into his ear.

"Prove it." Sherlock's plosive syllables sent shivers down his spine. Sherlock then proceeded to unbutton and remove his own shirt without severing eye contact with the doctor. John turned red again, and then pale, as the blood drained from his face into his pants. Startled by his own arousal, John was jolted with the urge to run, but his shoes remained glued to the floor.

"You might say you don't like it, but someone else doesn't agree with you." Sherlock smirked. John looked down at the obvious bulge in his pants.

"T-that doesn't mean I'm gay." John stuttered, laughing off his embarrassment.

"Denial of my deductions are only going to make you more difficult to work with." Sherlock began to remove his trousers

"W-what are you doing?" anxiousness flooded John's pores. Sherlock continued to strip down to his briefs.

"I'm going to have to convince you, my dear Watson." Sherlock slipped his arms around the shorter man's waist, drawing him to his lips. John resisted, placing his palms on the detective's chest in efforts to shove him off, giving Sherlock the opportunity to pull the soldier with him to the ground. Sherlock rolled on top of the soldier, running his tongue along his jugular vain in his neck, down to his collarbones. You're not gay; this will be over soon. John thought to himself in anger and disbelief. He held his breath as much as he could until he couldn't lie to himself any longer. This felt good. This felt amazing,actually. He was always the one performing this on women but never had he been on the receiving end. And he liked the receiving end.

Sherlock ran his fingers along the buttons, gnawing them out of their holes one by one and kissing each patch of skin that became exposed.

"Sh-sherlock I-I think that's enough now. You've proved your point." John lied to get the man out of his shirt. Sherlock ignored the little person's protests and continued to do whatever it is he thought people do to get off. What is it that people do anyway? Sherlock stopped for a moment and discarded the insecurity. John was loving every moment of this and admittedly Sherlock was getting quite hard in the process; Harder than he'd ever been.

When Sherlock had managed to discard John's shirt, he initiated the elimination of his trousers. Sherlock popped the doctor's fly open and tugged his slacks down in one fluid motion to reveal bright red briefs. The detective snorted as he laughed once and regarded the self-conscious soldier. John blushed.

Paying no mind, Sherlock pushed on. Diving down John's pants, Sherlock pried out a throbbing cock, and promptly inserted it into his mouth.

John gasped. Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit okay. Okay, um, that's okay. This is okay. Of course I like this, he's sucking me off. Anyone would enjoy this, right? It's only gay if I cum. That's it. I've got to— "OH SHIT."

Sherlock took the entire length into his mouth, plunging John's dick with his lips and gaining speed.

"Oh god. OhgodohgodohgodohGOD. FUCK." John dug his nails into the carpet as sweat dripped from his temples. Happy place, happy place, whatever you do DON'T— The captain curled his toes as a final moan escaped his lips. Sherlock shoved his face into the man a final time, filling his mouth with cum dripping down his chin. Sherlock swallowed and smiled. John lay there in a cloud of confusion and ecstasy. The detective straddled John with his legs on either side of him and leaned in.

"Not gay" He whispered at the doctor's chin. Sherlock smirked as he stood up and left the room. John laid there in humiliation as the color returned to his cheeks.

"Nope."