A/N: Hello guys, finally I'm back once more. :-) You know the drill: Don't own Sherlock, not making any profit etc…
Have fun reading and leave me a review, they are a writer's lifeblood!
—
John was nervous. Ever since he'd moved back into Baker Street after the Mary disaster and helped nursing Sherlock back to full strength after he had been shot by her something was... off. That much he knew even if he couldn't quite put the finger on the why. The easy rhythm they'd had almost from the moment they had met was no longer there, instead there were those awkward moments when neither of them knew what to do or say. The few quiet evenings they'd had so far had been filled with tension, unease and too many unspoken words. Had Sherlock even noticed? John brows furrowed with frustration.
When it came to the Consulting Detective his feelings were so tangled up it seemed as if he'd swallowed a too big bite which he could not chew. It was suffocating and simply overwhelming. Adding to those irritating feelings: Today had been one of those days when Sherlock had had to go off alone to face a dangerous criminal. Without John, without backup, without the police, without anything! Once more the blonde had arrived when there had already been a gun pointed at Sherlock and had managed to save him just in time. It made John simply furious, a vicious blind rage taking over his thoughts. Did that man have no regard for his life? Did he not know people cared about what happened to him? That John cared.
The army doctor had managed to keep his mouth shut during the cab ride home. But once the door of 221b had closed behind them, he unleashed his temper. Before Sherlock could react John's hand had squeezed around his throat, slamming him hard against the door.
"You stupid git! You could have died today! DIED! Do you realise that? Do you not care? Do you not see how much others care? How much I care? I already lost you once! I won't lose you again!"
Once John realised his hands had moved Sherlock's arms gripping him tightly enough to bruise and that he was shaking him violently, he let go, still breathing heavily, still angry, but mostly back in control. Enough to become aware of the fact that his friend hadn't even tried to fight back. They stared at each other in silence.
"John…"
Sherlock whispered, his voice so full of emotion it almost broke. And it was that simple sound forcing John to admit what lay beneath his rage: fear. He had been terrified of losing the Consulting Detective, a man he loved. That fear had broken through the surface now and before John could stop himself he'd closed the distance between them and thrown his arms tightly around Sherlock. When he felt the warm body against his and breathed in the familiar Sherlock-scent, he started to tremble. Sherlock's arms which had already circled his waist drew him even closer. For a while they simply stood like that, holding on to each other until they had both calmed down.
Without intention, pure instinct taking over, John strained to capture Sherlock's lips with his own. He simply needed more than that hug and it seemed so natural… Totally surprised Sherlock froze. Immediately the blonde pulled back, trying to step back. But the arms still fastened around him prevented it. He barely had time to catch Sherlock's eyes before the Consulting Detective kissed him fiercely. His eyes fell shut and a moan escaped his throat as he surrendered to his friend.
That night was the first night they made love to each other.
The first time was in a frenzy, the events of the day making them needy for reassurance they were still there and still had each other. And yet all the love they felt shone through. It would not be voiced for a while, neither of them being to vocal type, but it was as clear as if it had been.
Only the second time they went slow, each touch and caress as soft as a feather. It was then they started learning just which spots to touch to make the other one crazy and cry out with pleasure. They took their time discovering every inch of the other's body, to trace each and every birthmark or scar. Only when they couldn't stand it anymore John pushed himself into Sherlock, granting them release.
After they were spent for now John drew him close, letting him rest against his side, head pillowed on his chest. It wasn't long until both quietly drifted off to sleep, unbothered by worries or nightmares.
It would be the first of many nights spent that way.
- The End -