Sherlock and John burst through the door of 221 Baker Street, Sherlock clutching John's face between his hands and John trying not to drop the keys.
"Sherlock, just wait a minute." John was trying not to lose his balance as he kicked the door shut, but Sherlock continued pushing them together.
They kept backing away from the door until Sherlock's back was pressed against the wall and John was pressed against him. "We've waited long enough," he said as he pushed their lips together.
Sherlock had been waiting since the crime scene to do that to John. It may have taken months and months but the heated glances and not so subtle comments had stopped being enough for either of them, and now here they were. The detective hadn't even waited until they were inside the building to throw himself at John.
"We should go upstairs," John suggested. He didn't exactly feel comfortable snogging Sherlock in the hallway. He much preferred doing that in one of their bedrooms.
Sherlock just ignored him and kept kissing him. He didn't want to separate himself from John for a single moment and it would be awkward walking up the stairs that way. "It's fine, there's no one here."
John sighed but didn't argue any further. Sherlock's neck was in his direct line of sight and he was more than a little distracted.
Sherlock moaned as John began licking his way down his neck. As much as John had fantasised about this moment he hadn't thought about how much he would love all the little noises Sherlock was making. He was delighting in the gasps and bitten off moans coming out of his flatmate's mouth as he bit into the pale flesh.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this." He kept his attention on Sherlock's neck and felt the detective tensing against him as he found a particularly sensitive spot. Encouraged by this John started biting, sucking and licking until he could hear Sherlock panting.
"That feels so good," Sherlock moaned. His legs felt like jelly and he was slightly concerned about how well they would hold him up if John kept going. So he grabbed hold of John's hair and pulled lightly, guiding John's lips up to his own once again.
Sherlock started exploring John's mouth with his tongue. He wanted to touch every part of John. He wanted to map it all out with his hands and his tongue and create a room in his mind palace dedicated to John's body. It seemed John had the same idea as he started undoing Sherlock's shirt so he could get to the detective's chest.
He was about halfway down when he felt Sherlock stiffening beneath him and push him away slightly.
"What-" he started to ask, but cut himself short as soon as he saw the look on Sherlock's face. He looked mortified.
John looked behind him and spotted none other than Mrs Hudson calmly walking out of her flat. He felt all the blood rushing to his cheeks and quickly tried to compose himself.
They both watched anxiously as Mrs Hudson shut the door to her flat and adjusted the big bag on her shoulder. "Don't mind me, boys," she said casually. "I'm just off to my sister's for the weekend. As you were," she said with a mock solute, winking at John. Before she shut the door to Baker Street she smiled at her boys. It's about damn time, she thought.
When they were alone once again John looked at Sherlock to find the detective gaping at the place where their landlady had been standing a moment before.
"Earth to Sherlock," he said as he waved his hand in front of him. "Sherlock?"
The detective shook his head, snapping out of his daze. "She wasn't supposed to be here."
"Right," John conceded, trying to hide a smile.
"I thought she'd already left," Sherlock continued. He still looked a little dazed. "She saw all of that, didn't she?"
"Well, maybe not all of it," John laughed. Sherlock had looked truly terrified when he had spotted Mrs Hudson. It was a bit like getting caught by his mum, after all. "Were you too distracted to deduce that she hadn't left yet?" John teased.
"Maybe," Sherlock admitted, "I had other things on my mind, after all."
John smirked, pleased that he had been able to distract the great Sherlock Holmes. "Why don't we go upstairs like I suggested earlier?"
John grabbed Sherlock's hand and started making his way upstairs. When they finally reached their flat they both took off their jackets. John had to make a conscious effort not to pounce on Sherlock when the detective laid down on the sofa and finished unbuttoning his shirt.
"Shall we get back to what we were doing?"
"God, yes." John carefully draped himself over Sherlock and started exploring the detective's chest. His hands roamed over every exposed bit of skin and his tongue followed closely behind.
Meanwhile Sherlock had managed to undo John's trousers and went straight for the doctor's arse. He squeezed, hard, and the response was a loud moan from John. "Do that again."
Sherlock did, and was rewarded with a playful bite to his nipple. "I want to touch you," he pleaded. His hands continued roaming under John's trousers, making their way underneath his pants. "Can I?"
John nodded eagerly. He could feel the progress Sherlock's hands were making around his body and he felt the thrum of excitement building up. He still couldn't quite believe this was happening, that after so long dancing around each other they had finally admitted that there was more between them than just friendship. And, God, was he glad they had finally given in.
"Fuck," he swore as Sherlock wrapped one hand around his cock. He stopped what he was doing so he could take a deep breath and concentrate on not coming right there and then.
"Did you like that?" Sherlock asked with a smirk. He gave John's cock one long, slow stroke and watched as the doctor's eyes practically rolled back in his head.
"Yes," John replied, "keep doing that." He held himself over Sherlock with one hand and pushed his own trousers and pants further down his legs, giving Sherlock more room to work with.
Sherlock delighted as John's cock sprang free. He was enjoying all the touching, feeling John's skin against his own, but it was even better now that he could see. He traced a finger from John's inner thigh, slowly, until he reached his balls. He heard John suck in a breath as Sherlock stroked and caressed them, taking them in his hand.
"Oh God," John groaned, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder.
Sherlock used his free hand to tip John's head back and kissed him passionately. John groaned into his mouth with each movement of Sherlock's hand. The detective was now languidly stroking John's cock and trying to match the rhythm of his thrusting into Sherlock's hand. "I want that in me," Sherlock pleaded.
"Not here," John replied breathlessly.
"Why not?" Sherlock complained. "It's not as if anyone is going to walk in on us again."
"I know, but I want to spread you over the bed and fuck you. And I can't do that here."
Sherlock couldn't contain the whimper that came out of his mouth at John's words. He gripped him by the back of the head and crushed their lips together. John barely had time to process what was happening before Sherlock was jumping out of the sofa and dragging John along with him.
"My room or yours?" John asked.
"Mine," Sherlock replied as he headed down the corridor. "My bed's bigger."
John decided to dispose of his trousers and shirt as soon as they reached the bedroom. He took them off and dropped them on the floor before turning around to Sherlock. "You're wearing way too many clothes."
"Do you want to do something about that?" Sherlock asked, grinning.
John matched his grin, and instead of replying pushed Sherlock down on the bed and crawled on top of him. He went straight for Sherlock's trousers, unbuttoning them painfully slowly before sliding them off the detective's legs.
He crawled his way back up Sherlock's body, his hands roaming over his thighs, and started littering his navel with kisses.
Sherlock threw his head back and moaned. He loved the feeling of John's mouth on his skin, but he didn't feel like he could wait much longer. They had drawn this out for too long already and he was starting to get a little impatient. "John, I can't wait much longer," he groaned.
"I know, me neither," John replied. He hooked his fingers under Sherlock's pants and started pushing them down his body.
Sherlock lifted his hips off the bed to help John and quickly took off his shirt as well. "Everything you need is on the top drawer."
Now that John had Sherlock well and naked under him he couldn't help but marvel at the detective's body. He had seen Sherlock partially naked before- he loved to walk around the flat in just a sheet- but this was different. This was Sherlock giving himself over to John. This was Sherlock trusting John Watson with everything that he was.
"You are fucking beautiful," John breathed, still kneeling over Sherlock on the bed.
Sherlock, who always reacted to praise, simply lay there with a nervous smile on his face. He was used to John complimenting his mind, calling him brilliant and amazing and a genius. But he couldn't remember the last time someone had called him beautiful.
John could see that Sherlock was feeling self-conscious so he hopped off the bed and went to the top drawer, quickly finding what he was looking for. Before he returned he slipped off his pants and looked up to see Sherlock unabashedly gazing up at him.
"Get over here," Sherlock ordered.
John did as he was told, crawling over Sherlock's body once again. He went straight to the detective's lips where he lay a surprisingly gentle kiss, his hand coming up to cup Sherlock's face. "Are we really doing this?" he asked.
"We're really doing this," Sherlock confirmed.
"Right," John nodded. He sat back on his heels and poured some lube onto one of his fingers. When Sherlock saw what he was doing he brought his knees up and spread his legs slightly but his knees were still joined.
"Is something wrong?" John asked, concerned.
Sherlock shook his head quickly, not wanting to worry John. "Nothing's wrong," he said, and watched as John visibly relaxed. "I just thought you should know, before we start, that I've never done this before."
John wasn't entirely surprised. After all Mycroft himself had announced it to the whole of Buckingham Palace to hear, but he had never asked Sherlock about it directly. "That's fine, Sherlock. Any time you want to stop all you have to do is tell me, alright?"
Sherlock nodded. "I trust you." He slowly pulled his knees apart from one another, fully exposing himself to John.
And for a second John was floored. Not because Sherlock had, literally, just opened himself up to him, but because of the look of complete and utter trust on the detective's face. Even if Sherlock hadn't voiced it out loud John could see that Sherlock trusted him unconditionally.
John leaned over Sherlock and laid a gentle kiss on his lips at the same time as his finger entered Sherlock. He felt the detective taking in a shuddering breath beneath him.
"Was that okay?" John asked. He wanted to make sure Sherlock wasn't uncomfortable at any point.
"Yeah," Sherlock nodded, "it's just been a while."
"We'll take it slow," John assured him as he carefully slipped his finger out for a second and then back in again.
But Sherlock seemed to have other things in mind. He rocked his hips slightly. "Not too slowly, I don't think I can take it."
"I don't think I could either," John admitted. He didn't want to rush things, especially with this being Sherlock's first time, but he couldn't hold out much longer when he had Sherlock spread open right in front of him.
But nevertheless he took his time in stretching Sherlock. He rocked his finger gently back and forth, waiting until he felt little resistance so that he could add another one.
Sherlock couldn't keep still. The feeling of having John inside of him was just too much and he kept rolling his eyes, trying to get John to go a little deeper, a little faster. He couldn't stop the broken little moans and pleas that were leaving his lips. "Hurry up, John," he moaned.
John took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was difficult enough as it was to stop himself from just thrusting right into Sherlock, and he was certainly not helping. "I'm not going to rush this and hurt you, I don't care how much you complain."
Sherlock pouted but acquiesced. He could tell that John was getting impatient as well but cared too much about not wanting to hurt Sherlock that he was not going to skip any of the preparation. Sherlock felt a rush of something warm passing over him. John, despite his usual protestations about Sherlock's behaviour, truly cared and worried for him. He couldn't say that about many people in the world.
Sherlock felt suddenly empty as John removed his fingers from within him. He was about to protest when he realised what John was doing.
John took a small foil packet from the drawer and couldn't keep himself from chuckling as he imagined Sherlock buying condoms. "When exactly did you get these?"
Sherlock tried shrugging nonchalantly. "I thought they might come in handy at some point." He didn't want to admit that he'd had them for weeks now, and had been hoping for this exact outcome.
John just grinned and finished putting on the condom. He looked very serious for a second, but didn't say anything. He just kneeled over Sherlock, looking deep into his eyes.
Sherlock could do nothing but look back at him. He didn't want to do anything to disrupt this moment. He was trying to deduce what John was thinking, worried that he was suddenly regretting everything they'd done so far and was trying to find a way to stop without hurting Sherlock's feelings. It had been too good to be true, after all.
Before Sherlock had time to really start panicking John looked down and held Sherlock's right hand, which had been laying stiffly by his side. He placed a gentle kiss on their intertwined hands before leaning closer to Sherlock and finally, painfully slowly, entering him.
Sherlock couldn't help the resonating moan that left his mouth. He had spent so long dreaming about this moment, wondering what John would be like in bed, thinking about every touch and caress they would share. "John," he groaned quietly, not even knowing what he wanted to say.
John's head hung close to Sherlock's, lingering closer and closer until he lay a quick kiss on the detective's lips. "You okay?"
Sherlock could only nod. John was gently rocking back and forth and the sensation was exquisite. All the drugs in the world couldn't compare to the feeling of having John Watson lavish you with attention, kiss you softly, stroke you, fuck you, love you.
He'd never felt anything like this before
"I have to say," John started as he delivered a particularly firm thrust- Sherlock moaned audibly. "I sure as shit am glad we're finally doing this." He chuckled and watched in amusement as the man beneath him rolled his eyes.
"Ah, fuck," Sherlock nearly screamed. John had wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock and was stroking him firmly. He knew he couldn't keep it up for long but it was priceless to see Sherlock reduced to a quivering mess right beneath him.
He watched as Sherlock tried to roll his hips and match John's thrusts, but John wasn't making it easy for him. Every time Sherlock tried to meet his thrust John pulled back just slightly. Sherlock's frustration was only turning him on even more.
Deciding that the detective had suffered long enough John let go of Sherlock's cock and instead grabbed his thigh and lifted it over his own shoulder. Now he really started moving, going as deep as he could manage and as quickly as they could both take it.
They were a panting, sweating, groaning mess. And if John wasn't sure Mrs Hudson was out he might've worried she'd come up the stairs to see what was going on. Sherlock was not holding back. He was moaning John's name and swearing every time John thrust into him. When John gave a particularly violent thrust Sherlock clenched around him and they both screamed.
The sensation was overwhelming, just on the verge of too much. John had to very vehemently stop himself from coming. "If you want this to last more than a few seconds I would advise you not to do that again," he warned breathily.
Sherlock only grinned and did it again.
"Fuuuck, Sherlock," John moaned. "I mean it." He took a steadying breath and tried to calm himself down, but they were both too keyed up.
Sherlock grabbed him by the back of the neck and crushed their lips together. As he did so he finally managed to meet John's thrust with his own and their screams of pleasure were muffled by the other's mouth.
John nearly lost his balance as Sherlock wrapped both his legs around John's hips. "Give me a bit of warning next time."
He couldn't help but notice the glimmer in Sherlock's eyes at the words 'next time'.
"I'll be sure to do that," Sherlock grinned.
A particularly deep thrust that reached Sherlock's prostate was all it took for him to fall apart in John's arms. His mouth opened wide and he groaned softly as his body went limp from the release.
John watched it all unfold in amazement. Sherlock had never looked so beautiful to him as he did now, completely stripped of the mask he wore on a daily basis. The look on his face was of pure and unabashed pleasure. And as he watched, he felt his own release building up until he could no longer hold back, and he came as well.
He fell limply over Sherlock, both of them utterly spent and covered in sweat, but completely content.
It was a few minutes before either of them said anything. John rolled off of Sherlock and laid on his side next to the detective.
"Cold," Sherlock complained, as he shivered slightly. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself to try to maintain some semblance of warmth.
John grabbed the duvet and, hugging Sherlock from behind, cocooned the two of them within. "Is that better?"
Sherlock tucked his head under John's chin and held his hand beneath the covers. He was starting to feel sleepy, no doubt a combination of great sex and a cosy warm bed with John Watson in it. "It's perfect," he replied, and moments later fell asleep in John's arms.