John Watson was making tea. Nice, ordinary, boring, mundane, British tea. It was a perfectly ordinary early spring morning; at least it would be if it wasn't for his perfectly extraordinary flatmate.
Said flatmate had not slept all night but that was nothing new. Sherlock did not sleep until the waves of exhaustion crashed over him, then he would be out for days. Nor had he blown up the kitchen overnight, so John supposed he should consider himself lucky really. The milk had even been a safe distance from any strange experiments taking place in their fridge.
John had his back to Sherlock and so could not see the look in his eye. Sherlock was bored. Neither did John see the spark of light the flickered across Sherlock's eyes or the upwards twitch of his lips. Sherlock had an idea.
John did however feel the presence of Sherlock behind him; he felt the gaze of Sherlock's eyes wandering over him and smiled. They had begun a tentative relationship a few months ago; it had just seemed to be natural progression. They complimented each other so well that it was logical for them to evolve into something beyond friendship. Sherlock had never failed to surprise John over this time, providing the perfect balance of danger and excitement, and comfort through the nights.
Often John would be awoken by nightmares, memories and flashbacks of his time in Afghanistan, he would involuntarily cry out on these nights and Sherlock would be by his side in an instant. The simplest gesture, such as Sherlock slipping his hand into John's or pressing a feather-light kiss to his boyfriend's forehead, would calm John and he would drift back to sleep with ease. Just dreaming of Sherlock could keep the demons at bay, that had worked last night.
Sherlock stepped up to his boyfriend slowly, knowing that he could react to sudden movement and not wanting to alarm him. He slid a hand across John's dressing gown and around his waist, resting it on the tie of the belt. His other hand came to rest upon the doctor's left hip. He pressed a kiss to the back of John's neck, firm and promising.
"Morning," he murmured into the skin, his tone as low and gravelly as usual.
John grinned, tilting his neck ever so slightly to allow Sherlock better access.
"Hello," he answered softly.
Sherlock trailed his lips up John's neck, skimming over his jaw, placing a final kiss to his earlobe. His lips now rested practically inside John's ear, his breath ghosting heavily over them with every word.
"I have so much planned for you today John."
"Sherlock, I..."
"I'm going to make you weak at the knees John, I'm going to knock you down and build you all the way back up again."
"Sherlock..."
"Shhh John, we have so much to do. You and I are going to make the walls shake John."
John spun in his arms, his back now pressed against the kitchen counter, his palms were pressed flat against Sherlock's shoulders.
"Sherlock, I have work."
Sherlock frowned.
"There are more important things than work John."
"Never thought I'd hear you say that."
Sherlock made calculations.
"You still have time," he concluded.
He re-attached his lips to John's neck, tracing across it until he found John's pulse point which he sucked, punctuating his argument with a short, sharp bite when it seemed John might protest.
John sighed. He opened his mouth as if to complain but found that a moan escaped him before he had a chance to think about it. His protests grew weak in his own mind, after all he was up slightly early, if he took a cab rather than walked he could make it to work on time...
"Stop thinking," Sherlock complained. His hand worked at the tie around John's waist, opening the dressing gown enough to slip his hand in and explore the flesh of John's chest. He ran a thumb across a nipple experimentally and grinned into John's neck as the doctor gasped and bucked his hips forward. He would have to remember that reaction.
Sherlock was pleased to discover that John was entirely naked beneath his dressing gown, as made evident by the hardness he felt pressing solidly into his hip.
Sherlock started to trace his lips lower as he pushed John's only item of clothing from his shoulders, bending to catch John's collar bone, licking a stripe across his left nipple whilst running his palm across the right. Eventually Sherlock came to rest on his knees, the cold hard floor met them with some force but that was fine, Sherlock had plenty to distract him.
He pressed a kiss to John's thigh, grinning up at the older man.
"Sherlock... what are you-"
Sherlock answered with action. He answered by taking John's cock into his mouth, swiping his tongue across the head, collecting the drop of pre-come that lay there. He hollowed out his checks, sucking on the first inch or so determinedly.
"Oh God Sherlock..."
Sherlock held back his amusement at John's surprise, fixing his eyes upon his partner as he took his cock deeper, bobbing his head at a frustratingly steady pace.
"Fuck, Sherlock, don't stop." John gripped one hand on the counter behind him, his knuckles turning white, his head thrown back in pleasure, his other hand was nestled in Sherlock's curls, tugging on them lightly with the movement of Sherlock's head. John could not recall ever feeling so much bliss in his life.
Sherlock brought his free hands up to John's balls, cupping and stroking them lightly, encouraging him to let go even more. He sped up his movements. The hand in his hair tightened in response and Sherlock hummed with his own pleasure, sending vibrations straight through John.
"Sherlock, I'm going to..."
Sherlock pulled slowly off of John's cock his lips pressing against every inch as he did so, just in time for John to come, straight across Sherlock's face, spoiling those perfect check-bones. He didn't even blush, he just smiled.
He stood back up to level himself with John, his adorable, spent John. He pressed a hard kiss against John's lips and whispered against them.
"Hurry back. I'll be waiting for you."
A/N: So there you have it, a little rushed maybe but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Thanks for reading.