A/N – This is the sequel to "Curiousity leads to Truths" and follows "The Holmesian Denial"

It is Sherlock and John slash fiction and all action and events from here on are according to them. Enjoy! (I wonder what they have in store for us)

I do not own the characters and nor can I get them to do something they do not wish to do.

A few weeks had passed since Sherlock had forced John to admit to feelings towards men, and he was feeling a lot happier with life. Mrs Hudson had made the odd comment in passing on how he looked happier in "open love", which he dismissed, of course. People at work kept asking if he had a new girlfriend, and whilst he didn't feel ready to tell them he had a thing with a guy, they knew he was taken and didn't pry.

"A thing with a guy..." he thought, still unsure how it had happened; he wasn't sure what the correct term was and he wasn't sure he wanted to group them under anything specific.

He was lying on the sofa listening to Sherlock banging around in the kitchen, dreading what he was going to find when he finally forced himself up after his quick nap. A nap that hadn't been intended, but Sherlock had kept him up most of the night after exploding the microwave, again. Normally John would have left Sherlock to clear up the mess, but somehow he had caused the glass to shatter and a strange brown/green substance to cover every surface. Sherlock himself had only been wearing a normal shirt and trousers, and when he had been blasted by the glass, he had managed to cut himself quite badly. John had had to stitch up a small arm wound with a special to hand first aid kit that John had personalised for Sherlock. Sherlock refused hospital treatment, unless he was unconscious with no note or bleeding copiously and needing additional blood. John was glad Sherlock had ended up with him as a flatmate; he was much less likely to accidentally die now.

So, John had ended up lying on the sofa, discovering that the only way to get Sherlock to lie down for a while was to coerce him on to the sofa and hold him down. Which had worked, until John had fallen asleep and Sherlock had carefully wriggled free. He had woken up to more banging and he hoped nothing big had happened again. Sherlock was bored; so was John as a matter of fact. Sherlock was bored of no cases; John was bored of not being able to use the kitchen without worrying.

John's phone beeped- Mycroft. "Stop him combining the second test tube with the fourth test tube, with haste. Mycroft Holmes."

John immediately jumped off the sofa shouting "Sherlock!"

Sherlock looked up from the kitchen table, the exploded mess had mostly vanished and Sherlock had abandoned his shirt as the Bunsen burner heated up the kitchen unbearably. He also had long rubber gloves on as he carefully held a test tube over another.

"John?" Sherlock replied calmly, slightly annoyed at being disrupted.

"Please stop." Sherlock look surprised, glanced at the test tubes in front of him and then at the phone in John's hand.

"If I must." John relaxed slightly. "Tell Mycroft to stop spying on me." Sherlock walked over to the fridge, pulled a magnet off and chucked it in the bin. "That's better, no more Mycroft."

John stared, "How long has that been there?"

"About two weeks, Mrs Hudson gave it to us, I obliged her by putting it on the fridge, and the bug has been there for eleven days. Must he always interfere?"

"What would have happened?" John was worried but curious.

"Just a small reaction, though I wonder if the test tube would survive." He looked grumpy. "Interfering little –" He walked into his bedroom and John was glad he hadn't heard the end of that sentence.

John decided to voice his worries before Sherlock created a diversion again. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?" came the bored and disgruntled reply.

"How much did Mycroft see with that bug?"

"Does it matter? Mycroft has levels of self-discipline. I'm sure he doesn't want to have the image of us performing acts on each other," He stopped to smirk, very aware how awkward John was now feeling due to his carefully worded sentence. "engrained on his retinas." He reduced his voice to a low purr like drawl and continued, more directly, slowly and measured. "I mean, he wouldn't want to watch me push you against the wall, carefully kissing your neck grazing your hard nipples with my teeth and slowly licking and kissing down to your navel. Then slowly cupping your balls and teasing that sensitive flesh underneath. Before finally giving in and releasing you from your restricting leg wear and taking your hot, red, hard, ready cock in my mouth and sucking hard and sudden, licking the top with a flick with my warm, wet tongue and making you come, hard and fast." As Sherlock had been talking, his eyes had been trailing the areas he was talking about.

By the time Sherlock had finished saying teeth, John had started reacting. He had closed his eyes and imagined it happening as he tried to block the same image. He was panting slightly as Sherlock finished talking, the pressure building in his cock, begging for release, begging to be touched. His eyes were still clamped shut when Sherlock lazily traced a line down his body starting by his neck and stopping just above his waistband. He only had a thin t-shirt on as the flat was so hot thanks to Sherlock, so the lightest touch was all that was needed. He gasped at the touch and moaned as his finger had drifted by his waistband. He hadn't heard Sherlock move, but suddenly he was behind John and stroking his buttocks, skimming the sensitive area and causing him to buck forward.

He loved these moments, when all of Sherlock's attention was on him, causing reactions in new and exciting ways. John's role was to hold out as long as possible and Sherlock's was to make him come before the appropriate time. It was a fun game even if it was very experimental and he was sure Sherlock was making notes somewhere.

"Sherlock" John moaned as Sherlock's hand had moved from his buttocks. "Sherlock!" he shouted gasping as Sherlock firmly massaged his painfully hard cock.

"Yes John?" Sherlock breathed in his ear "Should I stop doing this?" He squeezed and John thrust forward as Sherlock pulled his hand away.

"No!" John panted "No!" his eyes bursting open.

"Given in then John? Given in?" Sherlock allowed John a split second of annoyance at his words and no longer being touched before he lazily lifted up Johns T-shirt, drawing slow circles before roughly pulling it up. Sherlock finally had John bare-chested so he started to kiss at John's neck, grazing at his nipples with his teeth before nudging down to John's waistband and using his nose to drag along the top. John was biting his lip knowing what was coming next and trying desperately to not let the thought dissolve his resistance to the impending orgasm. Sherlock licked his lips as he started to undo John's trousers and John thrust, but Sherlock grabbed his hips and held him still. John was sure was going to draw blood, it was taking all his military training to stop himself freeing his cock and shoving Sherlock on to it.

"Sherlock," he moaned as he was finally freed. Whenever Sherlock thought John was gaining a hold, he would stroke a random part of John's body. He had smirked at Johns pants, the precum making them wet and slightly sticky. He slowly pulled the pants free, carefully dragging the material, slightly cruelly; John was now unable to resist bucking at the slightest movement on his body. Sherlock knew that if he didn't hurry then he would get an early release from John and it would end up on him. He didn't mind swallowing it, but he wasn't so keen on it smeared over his face and chest.

Sherlock stuck his tongue out as John involuntarily thrust as he was freed from his pants and as it neared his face, gave the end a small prod. John shouted as the sensation flooded him. "Sherlock!" he gasped warningly, informing him urgently that he was about to get a sticky face. Sherlock grimaced slightly and then calculatingly stared at the almost bursting cock in front of him. He carefully slid on, moving with Johns thrusts and sucked once. Johns hand clamped down on to Sherlock's hair and he came hard and fast.

After a moment to collect his thoughts, John glared down at Sherlock, who was sitting back on his feet a slightly disappointed look on his face.

"Bit quick there John, I knew that talking it over was effective, but that effective?" he looked up at John thoughtfully, "Was I in your dreams at all? After all, you fell asleep holding me. I suppose that could have raised chemical levels and speeded up reactions." He didn't look convinced, "Or maybe the panic of being spied on bolstered your adrenaline, which brought you closer the orgasmic edge."

John stared at him in slight disbelief.

"Sorry John, I'll keep my observations to myself. I thought these might intrigue you too. I need to do some research."

"Am I research Sherlock?" John demanded suddenly.

Sherlock looked up at him blankly, "Yes John, but research so I can improve your experience." He stood up and John saw that he hadn't gotten hard at all. He looked up at Sherlock and then stormed off into the bathroom. Sherlock watched him go, rather confused. Honesty was good, John had said. Experiments and research were just how he made sense of things. John was provoking a lot of questions that only John could answer by letting Sherlock continue.

He was still trying to work out what he could say when he heard the bathroom door open. He started towards it but heard John running downstairs, so he crossed to the window and stared thoughtfully at John as he crossed the road and headed for a tube.

Behind him his phone beeped. A text from Lestrade. Sherlock glanced briefly in the phone's direction, and then went back to watching John walk away.

A/N – So, thanks for reading. What did you think? How will things proceed from now?

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Thanks to CrypticNymph for being my BetaReader.

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