Chapter One

"John?"

John felt a tingle in his spine, and then in his left hand.

"Jo-hon."

Why was Sherlock so impatient? It was still early and he felt that he needed to sleep for much longer than he had. Ah, his arm had fallen asleep as he had rested his head on it when he had crashed last night. He pulled his arm away from under his face and pushed his face into the pillow. Lovely, soft, smelling of Sherlock - pillow, perfection. With a small smile he remembered that he had fallen asleep to Sherlock's lips on his arse. A familiar stirring in his groin made him sigh deeply. But really, he was so very tired, he couldn't do anything else but just lie there and hope to fall asleep again.

"John!" even less patient this time. That was when John could place the tingle on his spine. Sherlock's fingers were very lightly tapping up and down, counting his vertebrae for all he knew. Then he realised that Sherlock was actually using his arse as a pillow. How he had not realised that before was beyond him, but now that he knew, he felt the pressure, the curls against his skin, the breath streaming over the small of his back. He shuddered.

Sherlock smiled and lifted his head. "Finally."

"Don't move," John mumbled into the pillow.

"What was that?"

John dragged his head around, trying to catch a glimpse of Sherlock, who lay curled up next to him, his hand still on John's back, but his face nowhere near his arse.

"Don't move," he said, sounding drowsy and a bit sheepish.

Sherlock smiled and settled down again, pressing a kiss to his skin.

"I think I need more sleep." John wasn't sure whether he actually wanted to, and considering that the weight of Sherlock's head now pressed his erection into the mattress, he wasn't sure if he could actually fall asleep again.

"You said you wanted me to wake you up early."

"Did I?" Had he? Probably. He couldn't really remember anything at all other than that he had been exhausted and pretty much passed out as soon as he had hit the mattress.

"You did." Sherlock's hand moved up to his neck, pushing his fingers into John's hair. John sighed. It was incredibly good to feel Sherlock's fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp. It relaxed him instantly.

"John?" Sherlock was clearly impatient, and John was sure that he did not want John to go back to sleep. "I give you ten minutes and then I'll come and wake you up ... properly."

John nodded, too tired to get excited about the 'properly'. When Sherlock got up, he felt cold again, even though for all he knew he had spent the night completely uncovered except for Sherlock's face and hands.

It was much later when he woke up again, finding that Sherlock had covered him with a blanket. He was sitting cross legged on the bed, reading, wearing his dressing gown but nothing underneath. His hair was wet from the shower. John stretched and Sherlock looked up from the book. Instead of sitting up, John crawled the few inches until he could wrap his arms around Sherlock's middle from behind. He knew that with minimal effort he could move around him and bury his face in Sherlock's lap, but he wasn't sure that he was up for something so rogue.

"Hey," he still sounded sleepy but he felt much more awake now.

"Hey," Sherlock replied, smiling. "Tea?"

"What, you made tea?"

"Yeah, and hour ago, but it's cold now. I could make you a fresh one, though."

John smiled and slowly pushed himself up so that he could wrap himself entirely around Sherlock. "Thanks, but no," he said, pressing his face against Sherlock's shoulder. "Just stay here for a while."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm on holiday, I'm not going anywhere."

John giggled, causing Sherlock to put away the book and to take hold of John's hands on his chest. "I am," he affirmed, leaning back into John.

"Did Mycroft talk some sense into you?" John stretched and kissed Sherlock's neck.

"No," Sherlock answered, but John could tell he was lying.

"I'll go and take a shower."

"Hurry up, will you? I've been waiting for a long time for you to wake up."

John grinned and detached himself from Sherlock who turned around so that he could kiss him properly. John felt a bit self conscious about his morning breath, but when Sherlock licked at the corner of his mouth, John felt fairly sure that Sherlock couldn't care less. And then he remembered that Sherlock had kissed him multiple times after he was fished out of the river the night before and he hadn't cared either. Maybe Sherlock's priorities really got mixed up when it came to John. He couldn't help but smile widely, and Sherlock grinned back.

He did hurry and walked back into the bedroom, half expecting Sherlock to still sit there and read, but he was gone. John sat down on the bed, towel wrapped around his waist, and examined his right hand. The cut had closed, but he would put a new plaster on it, just to make sure.

He walked into his own room, looking for his medical kit when Sherlock showed up in the door, holding a cup of steaming tea.

John grinned at him, feeling slightly light headed. "I can't believe that you did that."

"Did what? The tea? Oh, come on, John, I am not completely inept."

"No," John wanted to make sure that Sherlock didn't misunderstand him, but at the same time he still wasn't sure whether he should introduce the word adorable to Sherlock. "It's just incredibly sweet of you. Uncharacteristically sweet that is."

Sherlock grinned and stepped into the room. "Do you need help?" he motioned towards John's hand.

"If you want to..." John pulled out a plaster from his bag and handed it to Sherlock, who put down the tea on the nightstand.

Sherlock carefully drew his finger over the tender skin before he applied the plaster. Then he looked at John rather earnestly. "Would you touch me, now that you can?"

John smiled and felt his heart flutter. Yes, adorable was definitely the word for this version of Sherlock.

John nodded, but stood up and walked to the door. Just as Sherlock wanted to protest, he closed the door and leaned against it. If Sherlock really was on a holiday and had already proven several times this morning that his defences were very low, he would savour that.

"Where do you want me to touch you?" he asked, trying to sound neutral. It would be very easy to slip and fall with this approach, but he felt that Sherlock might enjoy this as much as he would.

And Sherlock blushed. He actually blushed; from his neck up over his cheeks all the way to his hairline. John had to fight very hard to stay calm. He walked to the bed, watching as Sherlock sat down, looking up at him expectantly, but obviously not self conscious enough to let the blush distract him. "Everywhere," he said, his voice very low.

John took the mug and sipped on the tea, making sure to lick his lips afterwards. "That is very vague, don't you think?"

Sherlock huffed out a laugh. "Do you really want me to tell you every single place that I want you to touch me?"

John smiled and put the mug down again. "Yes."

Sherlock exhaled shakily. "Okay."

"Lie down," John interrupted him before he could start telling him where he wanted John's hands on him.

Sherlock did, but then he sat up again and pushed the dressing gown over his shoulders. Good thinking, John thought with a smile. He moved back on the bed and closed his eyes. John had to chuckle at not having to tell him to do it.

"My feet," Sherlock said, sounding calm, "start with my feet."

"Right," John grinned and sat down on the bed next to Sherlock, towel still around his hips. He gently took Sherlock's right foot into his hand, bending his knee a little so that he could comfortably hold it. Then he started to run his fingertips over the back of Sherlock's foot, watching in amazement how his toes stretched in reaction to his touch. When he pressed his thumb into the span of his foot, the toes curled and when he very lightly ran his fingers over the sole, Sherlock grunted and half heartedly tugged at his foot. "Definitely ticklish," John concluded, pressing a kiss to the foot. He repeated his action with the left foot, finding that it was even more responsive to his feather touches. Then he kissed Sherlock's ankles, biting now and then, drawing small delighted noises from Sherlock. Right, about that. "Sherlock?"

"Yes?" Sherlock sounded very relaxed.

"Could you do me a favour?"

"Anything," he said with a smile, but then he lifted his head and raised an eyebrow, clearly realising that John wouldn't bother asking if it was just something trivial. "Well, I'm retracting that statement. It really depends."

John chuckled and kissed his knee. "Well, I wonder what you think I am going to ask."

Sherlock dropped his head again. "I am not telling you," he said with a cheeky smile, "but please, tell me what I can do for you."

"Don't hold back," John simply said, kissing Sherlock's other knee.

"Don't hold back what?" Sherlock asked, waving an arm around to emphasise the vagueness of that request.

John grinned. "Just do what you feel like doing. Don't try to be quiet, don't try to stay calm, just go with it, okay?"

Sherlock dropped his arm, staying silent for a while, so John continued. "I know that you have tried to stay calm and in control previously. But I want to know how you are when you let go."

"I can try," he said quietly, and John knew that it might actually be a greater challenge than he had realised. Well, he would take whatever Sherlock was willing to give him.

"Thank you," he smiled, moving to run his hands over Sherlock's thighs. Sherlock spread them to give John better access and when John started to kiss his way upwards, he could hear his breathing becoming laboured. He enjoyed feeling the texture of Sherlock's soft skin under his hands, gently pressing his thumb into his flesh, feeling the lean muscles tighten and just loving the fact that he was allowed to touch him like this.

When he reached his groin, John avoided touching him there. Instead, he kissed along the line where his leg met his hip, drawing a whimper from Sherlock, followed by a groan when he bit his hip bone. Sherlock's skin was almost white and John wondered whether this part of Sherlock had ever seen the sun. He grinned and nibbled on his skin, drawing his hand over Sherlock's thigh, eventually pushing his leg up until his knee was at his shoulder. Then he experimentally drew his finger along the inside of his thigh until he came to his anus.

In the military he had done check-ups. He knew how things worked and he knew exactly how to find the prostate. That had been the point of the check-ups, really. He also knew that the feeling it produced was extraordinary, so extraordinary in fact that most men dreaded the procedure. John couldn't quite imagine doing it without a glove, and the thought of anything more than two fingers made him uncomfortable, but maybe that would go away once they experimented with it.

"John, are you okay?" Sherlock had propped himself up on his elbows, watching John as he had halted in his movement.

John looked at him and then shrugged. "I'm just not sure how to properly do this."

Sherlock smiled. "You don't have to do anything that you don't feel comfortable doing. You know that, right?"

John nodded. "But I'm not sure whether I am actually uncomfortable with this. Are you?"

"Depends on what you want to do."

"Give you pleasure," John answered, feeling himself blush.

"You're doing fairly well I would say, but if you think of ... entering me, I think you should use some sort of lubricant."

"That's the part that I am not sure about," John admitted, drawing his finger carefully over the tight entrance, making Sherlock squirm.

"I'm fine with whatever you do," Sherlock clearly felt the need to reassure him that he would let him know if he hurt him or made him uncomfortable in any way.

John looked at him, repeating the movement with his finger, a little more pressure this time. Sherlock squirmed again. "Have you ever had a prostate examination?"

Sherlock huffed out a laugh. "I didn't know you were into role playing games," he grinned.

"I'm not," John felt the need to defend himself, "I just want to know if you know what it feels like."

"It's been a few years, but I remember it being quite dreadful."

John frowned and carefully applied some more pressure.

"But then again," Sherlock continued, his voice slightly shaky, "you weren't my doctor."

"Right," he smiled, "do we have something?"

"Vaseline?"

"That's what I used for the check-ups."

"But John," Sherlock frowned as if not sure how to say it. "I do appreciate the thought but we do have time, and I would like it if you would ... actually touch me everywhere before you ..." he waved his hand around again.

"Sure," John grinned, feeling both relieved and disappointed. "Turn around."

"Hmm?" Sherlock looked at him slightly confused.

"Turn around."

Sherlock pushed himself up and then flipped over, wriggling his arse while he grinned at John over his shoulder. John laughed and playfully smacked him. The grunt that came from Sherlock surprised them both. With arched eyebrows, John carefully placed his hand on the spot where he had hit Sherlock and squeezed. Sherlock shifted, burying his face in the pillow. He had obviously not expected to be so responsive to John's touch.

John grinned and moved to kneel over him, shedding the towel and dropping it on the floor. Then he ran his hands from the back of Sherlock's thighs upwards and squeezed again. This time the pillow did not suffice to stifle the moan. John was amazed and decided that now was definitely the time for some teasing. Using only his fingertips, he drew small circles on Sherlock's skin, loving the shudder that ran though the body beneath him. He pushed down harder, feeling the muscles clench under his palms and moved up until he pressed down on the small of his back. He literally took Sherlock's breath away, as he pushed his face to the side, inhaling sharply.

"Do that again," he pleaded and John felt immediately aroused just by the tone of his voice. "Do what again?" he asked, intending to make Sherlock suffer a bit for his pleasure.

For a second he thought Sherlock would just turn around again and take matters into his own hands, so he tightened the grip he had on him and pressed his knees closer together. Sherlock grunted and pushed himself up on his elbows. John could only stare at the graceful curve of his back, the way the muscles stood out more prominently now, his shoulder blades sharp under his skin. He dropped his head forward, so all John saw of it were the sharp bump of the vertebrae in his neck and a few curls of dark hair. His eyes followed his spine down to the small of his back where two dimples were more visible than ever. He hadn't realised how endearing he found them, but now that they were standing out against the pale skin, he found that he was utterly in love with them. And then, there was that arse.

"Sherlock," he said a bit breathlessly, "you have the most beautiful arse I have ever seen."

That had Sherlock laughing, his whole body shaking under John and John was indeed grateful for the man below him who managed to make him forget everything that had been going on before. "I mean it, though," he insisted, experimentally pushing his thumbs along the deep lines above his buttocks towards his hips only to run his hands down and squeeze again. Sherlock's breath hitched and John decided that he wanted to see how Sherlock would react if he kissed him. He knew he was ticklish and he would have to be careful about that, but he loved the challenge.

Moving down Sherlock's body until he was kneeling over his calves, he placed his hands to both sides of Sherlock's hips and leaned down, kissing the small of his back. The moan made him smile and for a moment he had a hard time doing anything else than smile against the heated skin under his lips. But then he kissed his way down, feeling Sherlock shudder underneath him. When he playfully bit his buttock, listening to Sherlock's grunt and just knowing that he was hard but unable to do anything about it, John realised that Sherlock had given himself up completely. He trusted him with everything he had. There was no holding back, no snippy remarks, no deduction that would come in the way now.

For a moment he was overwhelmed with love for the man and he knew that now that he had allowed himself to feel so much for him, he would never be able to go back.

Sherlock turned his head to see why he had stopped and frowned. "Are you alright?"

John looked at him, unable to speak, fighting down the tears that suddenly blurred his vision. He could just make out the smile that spread over Sherlock's features. "It's not thatbeautiful," he chided him playfully, shaking his head.

John laughed and the tears splashed onto Sherlock's skin. With a sniff, John wiped them away and then leaned forward so that he was lying on top of Sherlock and kissed him. It must have been somewhat uncomfortable for Sherlock, but he happily kissed him back.

"I love you. I don't understand why I hadn't realised that sooner, but I know now. I am sure."

Sherlock smiled and took John's hand, pulling it around himself until it came to rest over his heart. He didn't need words to express what he felt and John pressed his face against Sherlock's shoulder, feeling the strong heartbeat against his palm and his ear.

After a few minutes of just lying there breathing and feeling in love, he lifted his head and reclaimed his hand. "Back to your arse," he announced with a grin, making Sherlock chuckle. He pushed himself up and resumed his sitting position, leaning forward again to kiss and bite and lick Sherlock until he started to whimper, something that turned John on more than he was willing to admit.

"John," Sherlock eventually lifted his head from the pillow. "John, please."

"What do you want?" John knew that Sherlock wanted him to move on, wanted to feel him touch the rest of his body, but he really enjoyed this and he was sure that he could make him come just by keeping up his gentle teasing.

Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair, trying to regain some control. "Back, shoulders, neck, arms, hands."

John chuckled. "Okay, I think I can do that." He leaned down again and started to lick his way up Sherlock's spine. He could feel him pressing his groin into the mattress, trying to find friction but not daring to actually do anything more than that. John smiled again and moved up until he was kneeling over Sherlock's arse. For a minute he was breathless, imagining making love to him like that. His hands came to rest on Sherlock's hips and he squirmed, causing John to tickle him just for a second. The impact was rather impressive. Sherlock arched up, breathless laughter bubbling up from deep inside him, his arms trying to take hold of John's to pull them away from him. When John stopped, they were both breathing hard.

"Definitely ticklish," John announced with a grin.

"If you ever use that against me I will have to kill you," Sherlock mumbled against the pillow. John laughed. "Your list is getting quite long. And I don't think that threatening to kill me will actually be very effective, because I know that you wouldn't."

"Right," Sherlock propped his head up on his hand. "I'll think of something more effective then. How about ..."

"Sherlock," John interrupted him, his hands coming to rest on his hips yet again, "before you start, let me just remind you that things like not eating, not sleeping and not talking to me cannot be used as punishment, because you do those things anyway." Sherlock inhaled and opened his mouth to speak, but John wasn't done. "And I know that you would not manage to maintain a no touching rule as punishment, no matter how determined you might think you can be."

Sherlock sighed and waited for John to go on. When nothing else followed he said, "well, we'll see about that."

"Alright," John smiled and gently poked him in the side, causing Sherlock to yell and squirm under him. Yes, having Sherlock at his mercy was definitely something that he enjoyed immensely. "John!" he sounded annoyed, but John could hear the smile.

"Yes?"

Sherlock didn't answer but stretched out on the bed, offering his back to him. So he went on with his exploration. He ran his hands along his spine and over his ribs, feeling how tense Sherlock was again. When he started to massage his shoulders, he could feel Sherlock's hips move underneath him. His breath grew laboured and eventually he started moaning, causing John to stop and take hold of his own erection if only to cause some friction for himself. "Fuck," he groaned, causing Sherlock to move faster underneath him. John knew that if Sherlock kept doing that he would just come on the sheets and he would probably follow soon and somehow it seemed too much of a waste. He let go of himself and moved off Sherlock, who grunted in frustration at the missing pressure that had helped him cause friction from above.

"Turn around," John ordered, causing Sherlock to stop moving. "I want to touch you."

"No," Sherlock moaned, clearly fighting with himself.

"Okay." John knelt next to Sherlock on the bed, watching him as he lay there, unmoving. "What do you want me to do?"

"Give me a minute," Sherlock sighed deeply and buried his face in the pillow. Again, John was overwhelmed with affection for him and he moved to lie next to him, running his fingers through his hair. Just the feeling of those curls between his fingers made his heart ache. He was so glad to be alive and so fortunate to be allowed to love this extraordinary man.

Eventually Sherlock moved his head and faced John, a frown expressing his frustration. "I'm not doing too well, am I?"

John didn't quite know what he meant. "Sherlock, this is not about doing anything well."

"But if I really let go, like you asked of me ..." he didn't finish that thought and John finally understood what this was about. Sherlock was pressuring himself in trying to let go when he clearly wanted to hang on for longer. He moved closer to kiss him, his fingers still in Sherlock's hair.

"Don't think about it, okay? Just do what feels good and tell me what you need. And if what you want and what your body wants are two different things, just do whatever you feel like doing."

"I don't usually listen to my body, but right now it is definitely hard to not listen to it." He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes as if looking at John confused him even more. "I'm just afraid that if I let go, I won't be able to go back anymore."

John smiled and drew his fingernails along Sherlock's scalp until his hand came to rest on his neck where he gently teased the soft hair, watching as goose bumps spread over his lover's skin.

"Don't worry about that. It's not going to alter the way you function. You know how it works, scientifically speaking, I mean. So you will know that you can always choose to stay in control, but you can also choose to let go. It will only last as long as you let it."

He opened his eyes again, the frown slowly giving way to a calmer expression. "And you're here."

"I'm here," he affirmed, smiling and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

"Okay," Sherlock inhaled, pushing his body up on his elbows again. "Can you go back to my shoulders?"

John smiled and kissed his shoulder and then moved up. This time he knelt beside Sherlock, and even though this position was less comfortable than sitting on him had been, he was sure that it was easier for Sherlock to not be too distracted by it. He reminded himself that Sherlock was not used to being touched like this, that he knew nothing about giving way to the waves of pleasure that would cross his plans sooner or later anyway. He didn't know that it really did not matter when he came and how and why, and that there was nothing to be ashamed or scared of. Kissing Sherlock's right shoulder blade he realised that Sherlock wasn't the only one who needed to be reassured of that.

He let his hands wander over Sherlock's shoulders, pushing down, hearing the air leaving his lungs. His thumbs worked their way up Sherlock's neck into his hair. He felt how tense he still was and remembered that despite everything that had been going on, Sherlock had been worried for most of the past week and hadn't really been given the chance to relax. He also knew that they needed to talk about what had happened after he had fallen into the river, and maybe, just maybe, Sherlock's tense muscles stemmed from his need to keep it in, to not talk about it and spoil their intimate moment. He had said he was on a holiday, and John was fairly sure that he didn't do such things. So maybe he was trying to win time, to distance himself from whatever had happened.

"John?"

"I'm sorry." He smiled, but he felt a little sad that even now Sherlock noticed that he was thinking about something other than about the here and now.

"Lie on me again." He sounded somewhat shy.

"What?" John didn't quite know what Sherlock meant.

"Like before, when you kissed me. Lie on me, it felt good. It felt safe."

John blinked a few times but the decided that if Sherlock wanted him to do that, he would. He pushed his hands along Sherlock's arms until he reached his hands while he lowered himself on Sherlock. It felt silly, but at the same time very intimate and rather lovely. He intertwined their fingers and tried to ignore the feeling of his erection trapped between their bodies. "Okay?"

"Perfect," Sherlock said, sounding content and a little sleepy.


A.N. So this is the next part in my series. I have finished writing this (23 chapters total), but feedback is always welcome. This story does not really have plot, but focuses on the relationship between John and Sherlock. So read this as a kind of interlude between the last and the next case fic :)