Okay, so here it goes, this is my first story co-written with a silent partner from Omegle, credit goes also to him/her for doing the parts of Sherlock, while I did John's. Hope you enjoy it and if there are positive review I'll most certainly continue it.
Sherlock suppressed a groan as he heard John and Mary giggling in the hallway. Just back from their date, and the excitement of it all seemed to still be in their minds, increasing the volume and pitch of their laughter. Sherlock was bitter, and even that was a huge understatement. And could all of his negative emotions boil down to something so simple as jealousy? Apparently so. He didn't allow it to show, though, as they stumbled through the door and into the kitchen, where Sherlock was sat in front of his microscope. They both had had two glasses of wine each. Sherlock hoped desperately that Mary would take a cab home, but knew there was a chance she'd be staying the night. He grinned up at them despite dreading the latter chance, glancing up from his microscope that didn't actually have any slides on it.
"Hello John, Sarah. Had a nice evening?" He asked, scratching down a few meaningless scribbles that looked just as good as any notes he'd take.
"Yeah, we did. We went to a fancy restaurant, she took me there" John said "You sure look a bit weird" the woman said looking oddly at Sherlock
John felt that his best friend was a bit off tonight, but couldn't bring himself to say anything, he awaited to see what Sherlock would say next.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John rather than his date, questioning his choice in women rather than her choice of words. His eyes flicking back to her, he grinned. "Lovely to see you, as always," he murmured, his voice thick with condescension.
Turning back to John, he perked up. "Lestrade texted, wants us over at the Yard early tomorrow morning, about something stupid, like evidence..." he trailed off. This was a lie, of course, but he only wanted to encourage John to stay at the flat, preferably alone, and thought that would be well taken care of if he was needed in the morning.
"Um...yeah, sure, we could go. How early do we have to be there? Around 6 a.m., you say, wow, that must be a hell of case" John said "Mary would you mind if I stay in tonight, Sherlock probably needs me so we can prepare for tomorrow" John said as nicely as he could
"What? Are you seriously going to ditch me for this... this...And wait a minute, my name is Mary, not Sarah, John you really have a rather unfortunate choice of friends" said Mary and slammed the door behind her as loud as she could. John was shocked, he thought there was nothing to be upset about "Sherlock, couldn't you for once not forget the name of the girl, I'm dating...?" John asked
Sherlock watched the row with vague interest, though he was giddy, his head nodding back and forth between them as if watching a tennis match. After she stormed out, Sherlock ducked his head, leaning feigning intense interest in the notebook set in front of him.
"Hmm... it's hardly my fault they all blend together," he murmured, sobering up and looking at John seriously. "I am sorry. You looked very happy with her," he said, and as he spoke, a bit of guilt did weigh down the glee of her having left the flat, seemingly to not return again. Not enough to have regretted causing it to happen, but apologetic nonetheless.
"And what's with the politeness today, are you sure you're okay, you're not acting like yourself" John said not realizing at first that while saying that he has unintentionally closed the distance between him and Sherlock. He stopped and looked straight into Sherlock's eyes, a strange mimic appeared on his face.
Sherlock grinned, assuming he'd been forgiven. "I find it's the easiest way you'll let me off the hook when I've upset you," he said, pushing away his microscope and turning to focus his attention on John. "Though, I must admit, she was one of the worst that you've dated," he pointed out, closing his notebook before John could get a peak at the nonsensical scribbles. He'd have to text Lestrade later, telling him to expect them, and to not ask questions.
"God, you sure are quite full of yourself, sometimes..." John remarked grinning, having forgiven him, despite the likeness he held for Mary. The sentence left unfinished with the end left only in the privacy of John's mind - and that's one of those things I love about you.
"Have I any reason not to be?" Sherlock smirked, sending a small wink towards John before standing up to turn on the kettle. He, of course, made rubbish tea, but hoped John would get the idea and do the rest. Sherlock considered it their silent agreement, that John would make tea so long as Sherlock didn't. He was hardly even allowed to touch anything hot, anyway. He let out a small, content sigh, wondering when his life had become so utterly mundane and, quite simply, wonderful.
"Let me make the tea, would you like milk in it?" John asked as if nothing has happened. But something had happened, something strange and different. John suddenly realized that when Sherlock did that - the attitude, the winking and the just slightly suggestive thing "I'm amazing, am I not John", John was torn into little pieces, by a feeling unknown to him before he met this man. He felt like he could bask in the light of the beauty that his flatmate possessed inside and out for all eternity. And that feeling scared him, but he absolutely loved feeling this way. He wondered if Sherlock, being observant as he is, would notice this realization of his.
"Ah, yes," Sherlock said, before adding "Please," simply because he'd confused John plenty that evening, with manners that he usually didn't bother with, and always did love pushing the limits. He leaned against the counter top, watching John move about the kitchen, somewhat admirably, though he refused to show it. In fact, he refused to acknowledge most of the feelings he had for John, merely because they were absolutely ridiculous things to be feeling towards one's flatmate, that would not be reciprocated, and would just be a mess of the mind palace to sort out. "You look awfully bright, with your girlfriend having just stormed out of the place," he observed, a quirk in his eyebrow the only sign that he intended for the statement to be a question.
John didn't expect this reaction. He supposed if Sherlock noticed, he would either say something brilliant or pretend not to have noticed at all. And this...this just felt like a suggestion of some sort, like he has already read his mind. Oh, God, what was he going to do? How would he cope if Sherlock figured out what he was feeling, even before he had the time to sort out himself. "Yeah, well... I try to. This has happened so many times - you being the cause of my love life suddenly ceasing - that I've lost count. " John said simply, feeling that a little part within himself was actually cheering, this time, that the girl left. John tried to push this thought out of his mind, things were getting beyond weird,why was that, what was happening to him?
Sherlock accepted John's answer easily enough, though there was something more in his expression. Something... relaxed. Sherlock took a single step towards him to get a closer look at his face, completely scientifically. It looked just a bit like relief, which would be contradictory to John's statement of just trying to move on. "You consider me to be the prevailing factor in all of your failed relationships, but have you ever considered that it was the women themselves that are the problem? If they won't tolerate your preference towards cases rather than dates, I don't see how they're worth your time," Sherlock rolled his eyes, though he knew he was stepping into dangerous territory, ridiculing John's dates as he was. He knew John got very defensive, in this area.
"How can you say that? I consider myself to have quite a good taste in women, thank you very much. And some of them may not be open to the things that I am, but that wasn't a problem, never was a problem... before...before I..." John answered, furious and yet trying to say something that didn't want to come out "Don't you see, Sherlock, I'm not even upset half of the time my dates storm out of somewhere or yell at me for no reason, and you know why? Because I'm willing giving them up for YOU, you big gid!" John said finally so loud, almost yelling.
Sherlock kept a steady face as John let out his anger, though he did feel rather badly for upsetting things. When he was finished, Sherlock waited a minute, considering what John had meant. Of course, he could have meant it only in a friendly way, Sherlock was sure he'd do the same for Lestrade. On the other hand, Lestrade didn't actively disrupt John's dates, only to be forgiven countless times. So when he spoke, he kept his own feelings vague, rather saying, with a small smirk, "You seem to have a good taste in men, then," before looking away from John's gaze.
As if being sarcastic isn't enough to tip me off, John said to himself and it all seemed so clear now. He decided that no matter the consequences, he'd dive into his impulse and closing the distance between him and his flatmate he simply said "I sure do." and with that put his right hand on Sherlock's cheek and kissed him.
Sherlock froze for a moment in sheer surprise, before leaning into the kiss, resting his hands lightly on John's upper arms. The kiss was chaste, but nicer than Sherlock had ever imagined previously. Upon pulling away, he just looked into John's bright blue eyes with a slightly dazed grin. He could hardly think of a sarcastic comment, his mind so occupied with John being so close. He let out a laugh of nervous energy, before kissing him again, because that was deemed acceptable at this point.
"Sherlock..." John moaned involuntarily against Sherlock's lips and still not caring if this might turn bad at some point pushed closer to him until there was barely enough space between them left to freely breathe. He moved one hand to Sherlock's hair and lightly squeezed a couple of the man's perfect dark curls. All John could think of at this moment was how beautiful Sherlock was and how much he wished he had done this amazing thing sooner. He had never kissed anyone with such want and need.
John was full of endless surprises. Sherlock had discovered this when he shot the cabbie. He was always, always so fascinating, a mystery that Sherlock knew he would never solve, though that didn't mean he'd give up. So, as to be expected, kissing John was a surprising experience. Sherlock was surprised by hearing his name in John's voice, so low and wanting. He was surprised when John pressed against him so tightly, but slid his arms around his waist accordingly. He was surprised to find his hand tangled into his hair, but nonetheless lowered his head to deepen the kiss, scrambling to close any gaps between them, and finding that not very many remained.
John seemed to lose track of time. Even if he intended to pull away at some point, that seemed an already distant thought that wouldn't happen. And just like that the kiss became almost fierce and with that John found he wanted more, more of this man, which may never be enough, be he sure would try to get the most of it. He pushed Sherlock to the door of the fridge and its contents made a clinging sound, Sherlock's body seemed to jump a little at the surprise of this action, but John was a soldier after all, what else could he expect. Then, John pulled away for just a second as to just look into Sherlock's eyes and say "I want you, Sherlock, all of you" John was surprised at how desperate that may have sounded but could be bothered with such thoughts at such a moment. He continued kissing the detective, even more passionately now that he knew he also liked it.
Sherlock let out a soft, slightly startled moan as he was pressed against the refrigerator. He was a bit disappointed, and very out of breath, when John pulled away, but he loved the words that came out of John's mouth though, and nodded in agreement. "Mmm... I am all yours," he responded nearly immediately, his voice barely above a whimper as he set his arms further along John's back. And then they were kissing again, and Sherlock had his hands tangled in the back of John's jumper, just trying to get him closer to him, though he already had him wrapped tightly against his chest as they kissed.
"God, why do you have to be so irresistible?" John asked in the heat of the moment, which was more of a remark of how amazingly handsome and sexy the other man was to him than a question. John was happy that today Sherlock has put on the shirt he loved so much - the purple one - that fit tightly to his upper body making him look even more appealing than usual, as if this was even possible. John wasn't surprised to think that Sherlock was a sight that not many could see, ever and certainly not at this angle as right now. And with that John unbuttoned the top two buttons of the other man's shirt and moaned again, even more loudly.
Sherlock trailed a line of kisses down the other man's jaw, his hands running up his body slowly, trying to memorise every inch of him that he'd not yet discovered. He allowed John to unbutton a few buttons of his shirt, watching John's face as he did so, feeling a slight blush cover his cheeks at how he looked at him. "You're perfect, John... beautiful," he murmured as he bit down gently onto John's ear, one of his hands snaking up to run through his hair, rumpling up the clean-cut look he'd had throughout the day. He slotted one leg in between John's, kissing down his collarbone, as far down as the cloth of his jumper was exposing, and sucking lightly, trying to gauge John's reaction to it all.
"Oh God, yes!" John couldn't bring himself to say anything more than this and he wanted to say so many things, but he was so turned on he couldn't think straight. He noticed Sherlock's leg move in between his and felt himself harden. He lost it all, right at the moment when the detective started sucking at his neck and collarbones, he grabbed his shirt and pulled it so fast that the remaining buttons jumped out and to the floor. "Oh, sorry about that..." John muttered, thinking his friend might be mad he ruined his shirt, but surely Mrs Hudson could fix it another day. "Take me, Sherlock..." was the last thing John said before he lost all perception of reality and completely gave in to the best feeling there could be - making out with Sherlock.
Sherlock vaguely remembered that the shirt was John's favourite of his- at least, John's eyes lingered on this one more than any other. But he couldn't bring himself to care that he was hearing its buttons clatter to the kitchen floor. He just knew that it was off of him, and he could more easily feel John against him. His lips returned to John gladly, moaning as he felt John's erection against his. He wasn't sure how long they stayed in that position, a tangle of limbs and tongues and lips. It could have been a minute, it could have been ten, he really didn't concern himself with such trivial things. He regrettably pulled away, only enough to speak. "Bedroom," he said quickly, not wanting to separate from John for even a moment, but also wanting more of him.
John took Sherlock's hand and followed him to his bedroom. He stopped a few times on the way to kiss him again passionately, not being able to resist. As they entered the room, John remember how soft Sherlock's bed was, but that wasn't something to be thinking about right now. Happy to have freed the detective from half his clothing, John removed his jumper, threw it on the floor, smiled and again pushed Sherlock gently but in passion on to the bed and laid on top of him. "You're the most amazing thing I've ever seen..." John said wantingly and lovingly at the same time and started exploring his flatmates body with his hands. He kissed him everywhere he could be kissed and at times he looked up at him, his expression more content than ever.