The blackness vibrated as John Watson woke up. He felt stiff and tired, but as he started to move he found he was restrained and opened his eyes. The light felt blinding though he was sure it wasn't from the large round opening at the end of whatever place he was in. He could hear the water pouring out now and there as a black smug in the middle of the light. John blinked until his vision became clear. He was in some sort of underground tunnel, sewer probably, and there were thin bars or metal that ran the height of the opening at the end. He let out a sigh of disappointment as his escape route was taken from him and looked to the dark center to see….Sherlock?
"Morning, John," Sherlock as he sat on a stool his legs spread apart with a hand on each knee as he was bent forward some but kept his face on the ground.
John was completely confused now. This situation and place gave him the chills but Sherlock's voice had sounded warm, or as warm as it ever did and he could swear he heard a bit of sadness in there somewhere. He couldn't really make Sherlock out just his dark form against the light. The picture was oddly beautiful and menacing at the same time. The round light with its dark bars reminding him he was trapped and the man's dark form with legs at either side knees bent at perfect ninety-degree angles with arms that led to another set of ninety-degree angles and the crown of his curly flat mate's head. It made him feel like a fly trapped in a spider's web, and the spider was sitting four meters out. The constant sound of trickling water made his nerves feel on end. "Blood hell, Sherlock, where are we?"
Sherlock swallowed, "This is one of my meeting rooms. I bring people here when I need a word with them and I need a word with you, John. What do you remember about last night?" He asked in a soft calm voice.
At the question John's vision seemed to shake and he closed his eyes against it as he tried to remember.
John walked out of his room dressed to go to the pub and looked at the couch to find Sherlock spread across it with an irritated look. "Look, you got the guy, you should be happy," he said putting on his coat.
"Not fast enough," Sherlock said sharply with a glare.
John walked up to him with a frown. He hated to see his best friend torture himself about the one's he couldn't safe but it was also the biggest proof of how human the man was. "You only had the case eighteen hours before you solved it. The way I look at it that death is on the police's hands, if they had brought it to you sooner then she would be alive."
Sherlock glanced up at John and nodded, "Thanks," he said in a soft hushed tone.
John let out a little sigh of relief, "Hey, you want to go to the pub with me?"
Sherlock looked at him with calculating eyes, "No, John, I don't want to go to the pub with you. Why can't you just stay home?"
"I need to unwind," John said with a smile as he walked toward the door. "Goodnight, Sherlock," he said over his shoulder before leaving.
"Jesus, John, at this rate we'll be here all day! Just get to the part where you came home!" Sherlock demanded looking up at the man.
John was getting more annoyed by this whole situation and opened his eyes to see more of the curly hair against the light. "How the fuck do you know where I am in my own memories?! I've had just about enough of this. Now you can either let me go or I'll get out on my own."
Sherlock stood at those words and his voice as harsh and crisp like a whip though the cool silent space. "After what you did last night you are in no place to demand anything. I welcome you to do your best to get out of your restraints but I can promise you that it will be fruitless."
John did try though and Sherlock was right, as usual, "I swear by the Queen, Sherlock, that when I get out of here I'm going to…"
"WHAT!" Sherlock demanded walking up to him.
John pulled back as the man approached with venom and anger like he'd never heard from the man. His eyes widened as he could finally see some of Sherlock's face from behind the popped collar of his jacket and it had been thoroughly abused. "Dear, Lord, what happened to you?" John asked breathlessly with concern to see the man back away from him and turn to look out at the light.
"It's time to remember, John," Sherlock said in a quiet broken little voice.
John swallow hard, that voice concerned him even more than the bruises. He closed his eyes again and tried to remember.
He could remember clumsily climbing the stairs to his flat. He was mad and horney and completely hammered. He opened the door to see Sherlock playing a beautifully tragic piece of music on the violin. Sherlock's mouth moved into a set frown at the sight of him and his eyes went cold. John raked his eyes over the man's form and found himself hating whoever invented clothes. He was suddenly much closer to the man and he could feel those eyes trying to cut into his skin and laughed. "You're beautiful when your mad," John said reaching out to touch Sherlock but the man evaded his hand as he put down the violin and glared at him.
"Not again," Sherlock said in a tight voice, "we agreed, remember." He said as he faced a drunken John.
John laughed and there was a menacing tone to it, "But I neeeeed you, Sherl," he said as he rubbed his hardening penis though his trousers.
Sherlock's face blanched as John molested himself in front of him and took a step back, "No! Not again! You promised!"
John smiled as the memory filled him from 7 months ago –
"What are you doing?" Sherlock whispered as John had drunkenly fell on his bed.
"What are you doing in my bed?" John asked to see Sherlock under a white sheet, and if his shoulders were an indication of the man's clothing then he was naked. That brought a smile to his lips and blood to his hips.
"This is my bed, you tosser!" Sherlock said irritated to be waken up in such a manner.
John laugh and rolled on top of Sherlock, "You ever think I wouldn't have to be a tosser if you'd just stop being an utter twat," he said in soft voice as his hips rolled against the other mans.
"John, get off me," Sherlock said as his voice hitched at the movement.
"Oh, Sherl, don't be that way," John said as he unzipped his trousers to free his cock, "this could be nice if you don't struggle." The sentence had ended in a dark tone as he eyed the wide blue-green eyes in warning.
Sherlock moved quickly and slipped out from under the man and out of the bed. He started to run when his arm was yanked hard behind him and he fell. John gritted his teeth, "You're a daft twat, aren't you!" he said kicking the man in the stomach.
Sherlock didn't make any noise as he was kicked and instead stayed on the floor breathing hard as he tried to think of a way out of this where neither of them got hurt. Obviously John wasn't himself right now and would never do something like this if he wasn't hammered.
John let his eyes linger on the cream white skin of his flat mate as he stroked himself slowly. He wished that Sherlock was hard so he could really know his size but even soft the penis was very long. He bit his lip as he saw that razor-sharp hipbone and that glorious bum. He bent down and pulled Sherlock to his knees by his hair, "Get to it then," he said with dark eyes as the man shook his head, in refusal or pure shock John wasn't sure. He back handed the man hard across the cheek to which he fell over again and he set him up once again, "I said suck me off before your ass starts to look any more appealing to me," John said angrily. Why did he have to do everything himself?
Sherlock tried to stop the tears but they came despite him as he opened his mouth but refused to do anything more than that. John didn't seem to mind though as he pushed his way in, "Oh, sweet mother of God, I don't think your mouth has ever been so delicious," John said as he looked down at the man's eyes and gently wiped away a tear with his thumb. "It's okay," he said as he licked his lips and used the mouth.
Sherlock felt cold and sick as he allowed his mouth to be used for John's baser needs but after a couple of minutes he fell to his side and vomited. His whole body was shaking as it was too much.
John had been close and kicked Sherlock hard in the head for his time out. "You slag!" he roared pulling the man up tossing him across the room like a ragdoll. He stalked over to him and picked him up to throw him on the bed face down. "Spread those legs like a dog with two dicks," John purred as he pulled them apart and let his hard slobber covered cock slip on the crack of Sherlock's ass.
Sherlock shook as silent tears fell. He grimaced as John pulled his hips closer and started rubbing his dick down the entire length of his crack.
John could see the puckered little hole as he slipped up and down the crack. He thought about how tight it would be around his dick and the sounds Sherl would make and it took him over the edge. "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, you're good," he said through pants as he watched his cum spill down that lovely slick crack and swallowed as he suddenly felt exhausted. He slowly backed away admiring his work for a moment.
Sherlock looked at him and stood up. His eyes were red from previous tears and his cheeks were stained with those tears remains. "Never again," he whispered as he wrapped the white sheet around his bare body.
John was surprised to see those blue orbs surrounded by red and frowned in concern, "Oh, Sherl," he said with sadness in his voice, "okay, my love, never again," he said and placed a tender kiss on the blokes cheek and nodded before walking out and up his own set of stairs to his room.
John's eye widened in complete and utter shock at the memory and looked to see the dark figure of his best friend standing farther away and still not looking at him. He could see Sherlock's hand was shaking as a syringe fell from his finger tips and the sound of it hitting the ground was deafening to his ears. He could hear every thud of his heart as it reminded him that he was still alive after the violation he'd pushed on his best friend.
"Still romancing over the time seven months ago, hmm," Sherlock said in a shaky voice. "I disappeared for a couple days after that to save you from seeing what your drunken hands had done to me," he said wrapping his hands around his chest as he looked at the light. "I thought," he said and a sniffle escaped him as tears returned, "that it was a onetime thing then." Sherlock grabbed the side of the dark tunnel as he felt his knees weaken as the effects from several hours ago still affected him so harshly. "In a way… I was right. That night was a merely a lovely caress compared to last night."
John felt sick as the words pushed his back to the chair. What the hell had he done! He wasn't sure he could handle knowing, but he had to understand. His lips trembled as he closed his eyes again.
John licked his lips as he looked Sherlock over, "You're more prepared this time I see," he said flatteringly. "You stayed awake and dressed," he said nodding his approval over the man's attempts. "Only, I don't know if it will be enough, Sherl," he said mocking sadness. "Because it doesn't change the fact that I am a solider," he said in a cold harsh tone as he stepped closer.
"John, we mean more to each other than a shag and you would never do something to jeopardize our relationship," Sherlock said with calculating eyes.
John tightened his hand into a fist and punch Sherlock in the face. The man went down and looked at him with shock, "What relationship!? You prance around here half naked calling me stupid while I hide in my room tossing my spunk at the thought of you! I'm done waiting, Sherl, now I'm going to take what's mine," he said pulling a knife out of his pocket and grabbing the man's shirt to cut it off.
"NO! JOHN, DON'T DO THIS!" Sherlock yelled as his shirt was sliced through and pain seared his chest he looked down to see a five-inch-long cut angled on his pectoral muscle with a thin line of blood. He looked back at John in disbelief.
John tusked at the sight, "See what happens when you fight it, Sherl, now your bleeding." He said licking his lips at how beautiful the crimson blood was against the pale skin. He started to reach for the man's trouser when the blade was knocked from his hand with precision and he caught the man's wrist. "You want to fight this than give me your best shot," he said with a gleam in his eyes as he pulled the man to his feet.
Sherlock had to work to keep control of his breathing as he stood there bleeding without a shirt. "PISS OFF!" he said moving back from John.
John grinned as he punched Sherlock in the face again and held him up as he continued to drive his right hand into the detective's head. After several hard hits Sherlock focused and ducked the hit and slammed his palm hard into Johns sternum, making him step back some and took off to the still open door. John grabbed the knife and threw it with calculated hands and it drove into the back of Sherlock's thigh making him scream in pain. John didn't waste any time thought as he closed in on his prey grabbing the man's arm and twisting it until there was a loud pop and another horrible scream. "That wasn't much of a challenge for me, Sherlock, what a disappointment you are," he said as he let go of the arm and pulled the knife out of the leg. Sherlock fell into a pool of whimpers at John's feet. John took this time to unzip himself and piss on the on the man's face below him. "That's it, be a good boy now and it will be over soon," he said as he grabbed the man's wet hair and pulled him up to a sitting position against the wall. "Don't make me break your jaw," he said sweetly and smiled as the mouth opened and he made use of it. It was nice and hot but it was just a pitstop. After a couple of minutes he was raging hard on and he pulled out of the mouth and started to unzip Sherlock's trousers.
"NO!" Sherlock screamed pulling back from those hands as he's body shook. "Please, no!" he said as he tried to move and escape.
"Shut UP!" John roared back handing the man's face. He stopped a couple of minutes after that mouth had become silent. The face was bloody, maybe he'd started punching at some time, he thought casually and let go of his grip on the hair to see the man slump down with those wide glassy eyes still open. He finished unzipping the man and pulled the material down his hips then moved to the feet and started pulling them off.
"GET OFF ME!" Sherlock yelled as he kicked and fought but his action only got the trousers off quicker and soon the John was on him pulling down his pants and shoving a dry finger inside of him.
John basked in the glorious scream that issued from his lovers throat, "You almost made me lose my spunk with that sweet noise," he said with lust as he pushed the finger in knuckle deep.
Mrs. Hudson's lip trembled as her feet stopped on the step at the sight before her. She pointed the gun with shaky hands, "John Watson, get off of him!"
John pulled his finger out of the hole at the sound of Mrs. Hudson's voice and got off of Sherlock.
Sherlock saw little Mrs. Hudson standing on the step of the stairs with a shaking gun in her hands and with terror in her eyes and suddenly he didn't care if he had to KILL Watson. NO ONE was allowed to hurt Mrs. Hudson. He gritted his teeth as he saw John walk toward her in slow ominous steps and he was up running at his back. John reached out and slapped her while disarming her but before he could process it there was a arm around his neck hard and cold. It didn't take long before everything went black.
John coughed on the bile as it came up his throat. He turned his head to the side as he let the sickness out.
"Now you remember," Sherlock said in a sad voice as he was sitting down in chair only two meters away. "I'm truly sorry, John. I should have talked to you the first time. I… miscalculated," he said looking guilty and weak as he watched John.
John felt tears stinging his eyes at the apology, "You can't be seriously apologizing to me went I'm the one that attacked you! You have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one that went after you and I'm sick with myself over it." John said as he sobbed.
Sherlock walked over to John and hesitantly wiped his tears away with a piece of tissue. "Please don't, John, there has already been enough tears," he begged. "We have to talk now because you crossed a line."
"A line? Sherlock, I crossed every line," John said seriously.
Sherlock leaned back in the chair, "That might be, but the one I'm most worried about is that you went after Mrs. Hudson," he said and his voice sounded stronger.
John had to work to keep the tears back. He'd abused this man in every possible way and what concerned him the most was that he'd hit the landlady. Of course, it was obvious to everyone that Mrs. Hudson was a good deal more than a landlady to Sherlock Holmes even if the man himself had never exactly said it out loud. "How is she?" John asked with worry.
Sherlock glared at John, "She is okay physically but she is completely heartbroken, John, and it's all your fault. She trusted you! She cares for you and you put her in the worst kind of position! She can't stop crying and she saw me in a bad way and thinks she has to take care of me. I had to drug her to get her to sleep." He said with a frown and then glared back up at John, "Mrs. Hudson is a sweet lady who has done nothing to deserve such treatment by anyone but especially by you!"
"Yes, I completely agree," John said looking in those cold eyes. "Kill me, beat me senseless, turn me into the police. Whatever you decided is fine. I hurt both of you and I deserve no mercy." His heart was beating hard in his chest.
Sherlock shook his head, "Don't be over dramatic, John. An apology to her and your undying devotion to never harm her or let her be harmed should be adequate."
"No, I deserve more of a punishment than mere words or future loyality can provide. I deserve.." John's sentence was cut short as Sherlock spoke over him.
"John, I will not allow you the dramatics of turning yourself in to some martyr over a drunken night! Now if you need to feed the poor or cater to Mrs. Hudson's ever whim for the next several months to sooth your ego, then do it but that is it. This is not up for discussion, it is an order," Sherlock said flatly.
"Yes, sir," John said with military precision.
Sherlock nodded his acceptance and moved to get more comfortable in the chair when a hiss of pain escaped him.
John felt that sound like a stab in the gut, "Sherlock! You need medical attention," he exclaimed with concern and guilt.
"I've already had medical attention," Sherlock snapped, "this is important I need to get through this," he finished calmer and more focused as he used his mind palace to control the pain. He let out a heavy sigh and looked back up at John. "I need to explain some things to you before we talk. There are some things that I have never told you because I never thought they were prudent to our relationship but now they are. John," he said in a deep soft tone, "I don't want a lot of questions about these things I just need you to listen."
John swallowed hard, "Okay, Sherlock," he said as is heart seemed to beat slower in his chest anticipating that it would be bad.
Sherlock chewed his bottom lip a little before beginning as he was nervous. "I am a virgin, that is to say I have never had an orgasm or been penetrated," he said as he eyed a rat as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. "I know you heard Mycroft say it and others but you never asked me and I never talked to you about it. So, there it is. I've always been a bit weary of sex which is probably due to the fact I was… molested fairly frequently at a very young age." Sherlock glanced to see shock and fear on Johns features before looking back to the rat. "I don't really know how young I was I just know that my Uncle Barney always touched me and had me touch or… lick him. Well, that is until Mycroft found out and then he killed himself and left a suicide note apologizing to me along with leaving me everything he owned." Sherlock said with a frown, "Speaking of Mycroft, he can never know about anything that happed last night or the one time before. As much as those events brought up some rather well repressed memories for me I'm quite afraid that they would bring back some rather nasty acts for him." Sherlock said with a deeper frown and then shook his head a little. "Now, of course, is the big question. Why did you do it? I could only deduce two reasons for such actions, which is that your either hate me or you love me."
John's heart was beating so slow as he feared what Sherlock would say about the truth and yet he couldn't help but eliminate the wrong answer. "I don't hate you, Sherlock," he said with emotion.
Sherlock glance at him with searching eyes before looking away. "If you did hate me I would understand. I'm a jerk and hard to put up with, I know that. I could also understand that over the years you may have grown fond of me. We put our lives on the line for each other and we have killed to keep the other safe, so it isn't impossible that something more could have developed. If you did love me, then naturally you would feel resentful over my lack of interest or affection. Of course, this is where my blame comes into place, because even though I didn't give any indication of it, I'm really rather fond of you," Sherlock said with flushed cheeks as he looked in John's astonished eyes. "I should have told you a long time ago but I was afraid to be rejected or that even if you felt the same way that my lack or experience and information would mean that it would end in disaster. I never thought that ignoring it could lead to the same path," he said in thought about how it all had went so wrong. "The only good thing from all of this, is that there is nothing more to fear. If you hate me, then you can leave, and if you love me as I do you, then we can give it a shot knowing it can't be any worse than this." Sherlock said trying to hold his head up, "This is where you come in, John. Which will it be?"
John blinked as he tried to process this turn of events. He had for all practical purposes just tried to rape Sherlock and now he was being asked if he would date him?! "YES!" He startled himself at the volume for which he'd yelled his answer. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes," he said after some of the echo finally faded.
It was Sherlock's turn to blink in complete surprise as he processed that. He slowly nodded, "Right. Okay. Well, see that syringe over there?" He asked to see John nod with a look of disappointment. "That was my last shot of heroin and I NEED to know that last night was your last time getting drunk," he said seriously.
John couldn't stop a few of the tears from falling, "God, yes, no more drinks ever," he vowed as he watched Sherlock give him a soft smile as he rose and started undoing the restraints.