Hi guys! So this is a little strange actually. Me uploading a fanfic that's not Naruto, not even anime! BBC Sherlock (or should I say JohnLock?) right here, for my best friends - Sara and Olivia. They're lovely. Anyway, this is both for them and for you. It's hastily done, but I guess it works. I'd love some feedback, so send a review if you'd like to! Thank you guys, hope you'll enjoy! ~ (and oh, sorry for being a comma freak)
There will be a continuation. Rated M. Just T for now, but it will escalate - I promise. (HEHEH)

Sherlock Holmes & Doctor J. Watson (c) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC UK, Steven Moffat & Mark Gatiss

"Sherlo-"

"Schhh."

His attempt to speak was cut down abruptly by the tall, dark haired man.
John couldn't move a muscle.

The sound of police sirens, car doors that shut close, people who ran on the streets, yelling everywhere made his brain dizzy and he didn't even try to figure out what his flat mate could possibly have done to create the chaos out there.
Just the fact that he was pushed up against the brick wall by the man was comical.
Sherlock didn't look at him. His eyes were focused on the main street, just a few meters away.

"For god's sake…" he tried again, but the dark eyes he quickly met made him swallow every word he ever considered telling.

"Shut it. If you don't stay silent, I'll tell Mrs. Hudson to move the fingers in the fridge to your bed instead…"
It was a quiet whisper, but Sherlock surely meant every word he said. "If you talk or if you move they'll notice us, so please stay still. You can stay close to your girlfriends, so this shouldn't disturb you."

It was a sarcastic please, but John didn't actually care. He rolled his eyes but relaxed a bit – the explanation was okay for now, even though he was planning to interrogate the man later.
So now what?
In fact – it did disturb him that they were this close.
He couldn't point out exactly what it was, but it felt wrong…

He eyed the face, the high cheekbones and the concentrated eyes that still were focused on the outer street.
John closed his eyes. Listened.
Sherlock's breathings were regular and calm, but his pulse was probably twice as high as usual, excited over the life out there. As always when something happened…

"HEY! There's someone there…"

A quick look in Sherlock's eyes and he knew exactly what was going on.
At least he thought so.

In a second, the other man had moved his hands from the brick wall to cup around John's face instead, and he leaned in closer to slowly smash their foreheads together, causing a dull sound. He didn't even have time to blink before Sherlock had pressed his warp lips against his own.

The sudden move shocked him.
What?!
What the hell was going on?

Adrenaline rushed through his body, and he tried to push the man away. Hands grabbed the collar of the coat, but before he even could do it, his body was pressed even harder up against the wall.
His mouth fell open by surprise, and…

"Ah-"

It wasn't just Sherlock's lips this time. Hard, sharp shaped teeth caught John's under lip between them. They pressed together, and…

He bit me! That bloody man just bit me!

For a second, their lips parted and he could hear the taller man mumble something to him, so quiet he had to read his lips to understand. It took a couple of seconds.

"They're-coming. Play-along."

And for the first time, he could hear the footsteps to the left. Someone came closer. Someone was looking for them…

Oh.

So this was his escape plan.

Oh…

Even though he understood now – and actually, it was pretty smart - he still wasn't prepared when their lips met again. A feeling he wasn't really comfortable with crawled up inside him, as he reluctantly kissed back, and tried to imagine Sarah's face there instead.

Alright… It's okay, they'll not think about us if we're busy with this kind of… Thing…

Seconds passed. People ran by, ignored them, and it actually felt pretty good… They didn't see, they didn't hear. It was just like they were a part of the brick wall behind them.

Somehow, he had started to relax and when Sherlock moved his hands from John's cheeks up to run them through his hair instead, he shivered.

A cold sting pierced his heart as he realized:
I'm actually enjoying this…

Closing his eyes, he ignored the thought.

I'm doing this for him. It's his work, goddamit… I'm just helping him out. As soon as those suspicious guys have walked by, we'll stop. It's over soon…

Judging from the taller man's motions, the people they were "hiding" from were closer. He opened his mouth and let a warm tongue lick on John's lips, asking for entrance.

There it was again, the shiver.

How could he possibly say no?

Since he still was gripping the collar of the coat, he used it to drag Sherlock even closer. He liked it. Fingers played with his hair, teeth nibbled with his lips and he could feel how the man was smiling as he kissed him.

What was so funny?

He raised one of his hands, slightly touched Sherlock's cheek.

Their tongues circulated around each other.

"John…" the tall man whispered. To be honest - it sounded more like a quiet moan.

And John liked it. Oh, how he liked it… His whole body screamed for more. It didn't disturb him that it was Sherlock anymore – in fact; it only felt good that it was Sherlock.
He wanted it to be Sherlock.
And the worst part was that he didn't even feel bad about wanting him!
It was all so confusing; he decided not to think about it at all. It was hard enough focusing on something other than the soft, warm lips that so eagerly brushed against his own. A warm, willing tongue, attached to his.

It was way more passionate than anything he'd ever experienced.

Suddenly, Sherlock's lips froze right in its motion. First thought that flew up to John's mind was that they had been caught, but then suddenly – the man started to giggle.
He didn't stop, no, instead it escalated to a laugh – a pretty loud one too, which made his dark hair curls bob around on his forehead. Dark eyes squint as he gasped for breath and took a step back; let the man go from his recently so harsh grip.

John felt a little offended… What was he laughing for? And why so loud?! Just a minute ago, the man had bit him and threatened to put human fingers in his bed – for whispering! And now he stood there himself, laughing and giggling about something unknown! It was totally inappropriate, and yet so typical Sherlock.

"What is it?!"
John almost spit out the words. He felt mad, and somehow… A little used. "They'll hear you!"

It took a second for the man to gather himself. When he was done, he wiped away an invisible tear from the corner of his eye, still smiling.

"Exactly who will hear me, Dr. Watson?"

It was so like him. John wanted to rip his bloody eyes out, but resisted the temptation.
Instead he looked around them and found the street completely empty. Not a single cat was out, not even a shadow on the wall.

"They left…"

"…Minutes ago, correct."

He stared. Stared at the man's face, couldn't possibly think about one thing to say.
Hopeless.
Why did he even…
He was hopeless! Completely… Done! With everything! Why did he even start to follow on these "missions" or what to call them, why did he even…

He turned around and started to walk, Sherlock quietly just a few steps behind – although he knew that the smirk still was stuck on his face.

"Don't ever touch me again."

The man walked up beside him. Laughing ironically.

"But John…"

He didn't look at him. How could he?
His stomach burned, fingers itching.

"… I got this funny impression that you actually liked it, am I wrong?"

This man was way too much.