The door was unlocked, an unfamiliar key slotted into the lock on the inside. The quiet 'clink' of china echoed down the stairs for the first time in three years. John frowned. He started walking up the stairs, as quickly as possible, skipping the creaky ones. The door to the flat was closed, but the light from the street shone through the double glazing. A dark figure was framed by the window.
As John raised his hand to push the door open the figure turned, silhouetting an all too familiar profile.
No. It couldn't be. This wasn't happening.
John panicked. This had to be some kind of sick joke. He barged through the door at full speed and punched the intruder.
He winced and nursed his knuckles, then looked down. The man was sitting up, holding his badly bruised jaw in one hand. He looked up at John and smiled sadly.
"I'm sorry." the deep voice reverberated around John's head, shaking him from his thoughts and making him stumble. He felt a firm grip on his shoulder and blinked his mind clear.
"No, you- NO!" He shrugged off the hand and tripped across the room. His leg hit the arm of the sofa and he collapsed onto it, breathless. Before he could move, two long legs were straddling his hips and his protests were cut short by a passionate kiss. He gasped and pulled back, staring into the piercing blue eyes. He leaned forward again, gently pressing their lips together and pulling the thin body closer. "I've missed you," he murmured against the soft lips, "So much."
Sherlock moaned, and the noise went straight to John's groin. He grunted and thrust his hips upwards. He could feel Sherlock's own erection growing through both men's trousers.
His hands slid down the smooth back and underneath the waist of Sherlock's trousers.
"These need to come off," he muttered, "Too many clothes."
Sherlock shifted slightly, unwilling to break the kiss and move. Instead, he pulled on the hem of John's jumper, tugging it up and over his head. His shirt quickly followed suit.
Sherlock's long fingers traced his skin, hovering lightly over the pale scar tissue on John's left shoulder.
John shivered under the touch, gasping against Sherlock's lips. Sherlock took advantage, invading John's mouth with his own. John relaxed into the kiss and blindy reached up to unbutton Sherlock's own shirt. The taller man rotated his hips slightly, forcing yet another lustful moan from the man beneath him. Sherlock's shirt fell open, and John's hands found their way to the slim chest and down, tracing the lines and contours until his fingers once again found the waistline of the tailored black trousers. His fingers dipped teasingly under the belt buckle, undoing it with ease, before popping open the button. The zip slid down smoothly to reveal the tight pants and soft skin beneath.
The kiss broke once again as Sherlock shifted backwards off John's knees to slip his trousers off. He dumped them on the floor and turned back to John. "Damn, you look hot," he said. The sparkling blue eyes glanced first down to the bulge in John's trousers, then up to his face, and the look he gave nearly made John climax then and there. It'd been far too long since Sherlock left, and he hadn't been 'with' anyone since. He'd known, of course, that he loved Sherlock, and although others thought Sherlock loved him too, he'd always doubted it. There was no way that this man, usually so obsessed and absorbed by his work, could ever love him. As far as anyone knew he'd never even been in a relationship, and yet here he was, stripping off in the middle of the lounge!
His thoughts were interrupted by a deep kiss, and he relaxed into it. Two spidery hands wound their way down his body, stroking his chest and ghosting over his dick through the soft polyester. The zip and the button were short work for the nimble fingers, and John's trousers were soon crumpled at his feet. The thought of a mere two thin layers of cotton between the detective and his blogger sent John's mind spinning. He would NEVER forget this moment.
A draught of cold air blew across John's suddenly bare skin and he gasped. He pulled back from the kiss reluctantly, one hand reaching down between their bodies. He looked into the blue-green that were Sherlock's gorgeous eyes.
"Wait." his voice was low and husky from the kiss. He cleared his throat as Sherlock reached down again. "I said 'wait'." the dominance in his voice sent a visible shiver through Sherlock's body and he did as he was told. Confusion and worry flashed across Sherlock's face, so John pulled him in for yet another passionate kiss. He gripped Sherlock's hips tightly and rolled. He knelt between Sherlock's knees, lips still connected. He broke the kiss and sighed, before planting another chaste peck on Sherlock's lips and grabbing his hand.
"I'm not doing this in the lounge. My room or yours?" Sherlock grinned and kissed him again, "Yours, I think."