A/N: I have been working on this story for what seems like ages. I had intended to post it sooner, but I moved recently and that took up all of my time. Oh, and Comic Con was last weekend...and that was incredible! Anyways, this is the story that I had promised when I finished my story Pushing Boundaries. They aren't related, this is a new idea I've been toying with. The song is My Gun by Tove Lo from her CD Queen of the Clouds. I am obsessed with this CD and I realized the story arch would make for an interesting JohnLock story. I'd like to say I will post regularly, but be patient with me. Enjoy!

Part 1: The Passion.

Heads turns your body burn, rip off your clothes for me

Make out, lash out, keep dancing naked, feeling free

That's my gun, that's my gun, that's my gun…

Last night you were who you prefer because of me

Wake up messed up but you're still happy as can be

That's my gun, that's my gun, that's my gun…

John Watson was not gay, this he was certain of. He had never had sex with a man, and had never thought about having sex with a man.

Sherlock was an attractive man, John was secure enough in his sexualtiy to admit that, but that didn't mean he wanted to sleep with him. There were puzzling moments when he would catch himself thinking of Sherlock in more than a friendly way. When Sherlock was bent over to examine something John frequently found himself appreciating the detective's backside though he told himself it was simply because Sherlock really did have a nice physique. When Sherlock invaded John's personal space John got distracted by the scent of the detectives skin, and began to wondered if it tasted as good as it smelled. And on more than one occasion John had wondered what kissing Sherlock would be like; whether he would overthink everything and it would be awkward, or maybe his expansive knowledge would make him an extraordinary kisser.

This was not a phase he was going through, he was much too old for that, and so he began to wonder. Sherlock occupied John's thought often, keeping him awake most nights. He had started to wonder whether he needed to move out and just get some space, but couldn't bring himself to even discuss it with Sherlock as he would need to offer up a reason for his moving out, and he couldn't imagine admitting his inner struggle to Sherlock.

So John didn't move out, Sherlock continued to be oblivious to John's feelings (or at least he acted as if he didn't know) and life continued on much as it always had for the occupants of 221B Baker Street.

John watched Sherlock work on one of his experiments on one quiet morning, his eyes tracing the movements of those long, graceful limbs. He was supposed to be preparing tea, and to be fair he was, but while he waited for the kettle to boil he admired his flatmate.

"Do you need something?" Sherlock asked looking up from his microscope. John was taken by surprise and only coughed as a reply. "You've been staring at me for the past two minutes, either you're lost in thought or you need something and just haven't asked yet. So, John, which is it?"

Sherlock turned around to look at John, his eyes flicking over John and absorbing every detail. John cleared his throat, aware that Sherlock was analyzing him. "Just lost in thought." (About your arse.) The last part he thought to himself, wondering just how much Sherlock had figured out. The kettle started to whistle and John went about preparing tea. He set a mug down next to Sherlock and then took his own into the living room, where he sat down to work on his blog.

While chasing down a murder suspect Sherlock sustained a mild laceration to his right hip, which was inflicted by a small knife. Naturally he refused to let anyone take him to the hospital instead insisting John patch him up when they got back to the flat.

John went to fetch his medical kit and when he came back into the living room Sherlock was sitting in his chair and had already discarded his shirt. Sherlock stood up and watched as John began to clean the wound, his fingers working swiftly to wipe away any blood. He discarded the bloody cloth and began to apply antiseptic, dabbing the ointment on as gently as he could though he could hear Sherlock's sharp intake of breath as he did so.

"You really should try and be more careful," John said as he put the cap back on the ointment.

"I was trying to solve a case, I was rather focused." John chuckled as he began to put gauze over the area. Sherlock closed his eyes and put one hand on John's shoulder for support. Once he had finished John stood up, but didn't step back. He realized how close they were and he found himself unable to think clearly, he also found himself unwilling to step away from Sherlock.

"John," Sherlock breathed out his name, his hand slipped from John's shoulder to his waist, gripping him tightly. After a few long moments Sherlock sighed then sank into his chair. John sat down in his own chair and they sat in silence for a long time, both unsure of what to say to the other.

Do you think I'm easy?

Boy if you gonna shoot me down, do it gently

I'm not easy

But go ahead and touch me now

Do it gently

When John informed Sherlock the next morning it was time to change the bandage Sherlock seemed a bit too pleased about this. He pulled his grey shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor and stood still while John took care of the wound.

As John was putting the ointment on again Sherlock gripped both of John's shoulders and John had to struggle to focus. Finally he had redressed the wound and was washing his hands in the kitchen. He had started to make tea when Sherlock came into the kitchen.

For a few moments he just stood back and watched John move about. When John stood on his tip toes to reach a box of tea that was on the top shelf Sherlock rushed forward to get it. He pressed his body against John's and effortlessly grabbed the tea. He didn't back away from John just then. Instead he put one hand on John's hip and put the other on the counter, effectively blocking John in.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" John asked. His voice shook slightly but he didn't try to break free of Sherlock.

"I know what you want John, even if you are too afraid to admit it." Sherlock pressed his lips against John's ear as he spoke; the feeling of his breath on John's skin sent a shiver down John's spine. "Take what you want, no one has to know. We can call it an experiment, or a one time thing. Whatever you want to call it is fine by me, just do what you have been thinking about."

John closed his eyes and gripped the countertop. He could feel Sherlock's steady heartbeat against his back, and he hoped his own rapid heartbeat wouldn't give him away. Sherlock had already taken John's pulse, he had felt John's heart racing the moment he reached for the tea on the top shelf.

For what seemed like ages John stood silent, willing himself to push away from Sherlock and flee to the solitude of his bedroom. John did not push away from Sherlock, instead he turned so he was facing Sherlock, he bit his lip to keep from groaning at the feeling of his body dragging along Sherlock's slender frame. John knew that Sherlock was waiting for him to make the first move, and after a few more tense moments John put his hand on the nape of Sherlock's neck and pulled him in for a rough kiss.

Kissing Sherlock should have been awkward, it should have been like kissing his flatmate, instead it ignited a fire in John. There would come a day when John wished things had progressed differently, that he had been stronger, but on that day in their kitchen John wanted only Sherlock.

Sherlock ran his hands up and down John's back, and in one swift motion he had plunged both hands under John's shirt and was running his fingers along bare skin. At this John did groan against Sherlock's mouth, earning him a smirk from the detective. John knew Sherlock was analyzing everything and using it to his advantage. He stopped caring and instead let himself be consumed with passion and desire.

"Do you want to move to the bed?" Sherlock whispered. His lips were red from the snogging and his hair was a mess from John running his fingers through it. When John didn't respond Sherlock backed up, taking hold of John's hand and pulling him into the bedroom after him. Once inside he stripped down to his pants and John did the same.

Sherlock backed John up, pushing him onto the mattress and climbing on top of him. John had never imagined Sherlock would be so bold in bed. Though he had been thinking of his flatmate as more than just a friend, he had never imagined this. In his fantasies Sherlock was so willing to please, but he wasn't overbearing. The real Sherlock wanted to control John and the situation, and at the moment John wanted nothing more than to be under Sherlock's control.

Sherlock kissed his way up John's chest, nibbling at his neck hard enough to leave a mark, and then he brought their lips together again.

"Is this what you want, John? For me to take control?" Sherlock ran his tongue along John's lips, thrusting it inside John's mouth as soon as he was granted access.

"I want you, Sherlock. I haven't thought much farther ahead than that."

Sherlock grinned mischievously and then ground his hips against John's.

When John woke up the next morning the first thing he became aware of was that he was not in his own bed, the second was that Sherlock was snoring next to him.

He hadn't stopped at any point the previous night to think over how they would handle this new change in their relationship. A part of him wanted to just go back to how things were, as if nothing had happened. A much louder part of him wanted to continue on this new path and see where things lead.

Sherlock rolled into John, he rested his head in John's chest and slung an arm across John. In the end the passion won out, though they had both known it always would.

You're fine, you're mind

I'm the mistake you wanna make

Hey-ho let's go

It's one more mistake you gotta make

I'm Ace in space

And, oh, I know you want to fly

My tune, you're moon

Jump on my cloud and we go high

A/N: Let me know what you think! Until next time!