Chapter 1: The Virgin

Fuck me, James!

Those exact words were hunting Sherlock and they been for months now, more or less. They drove him insane like literally. The man was dead he saw how James killed himself he blew his head off, on the roof of Bart´s. That made the whole thing even worse.
The nightmares no more like the naughty dreams he had about him, a dead man was affecting Sherlock to the point where John left and now Sherlock left London at least for a while. Deep inside of him, he had a sinister feeling, his deducing couldn´t even be used here. He did try to focus but he failed at each attempt, that thing alone was close to breaking him. Break him, Sherlock narrowed his eyes a cold chill went down his spine, breaking him would be so much fun for James, he could hear his voice, his laugh.

He unlocked the door to the flat he borrowed from a friend one of his contacts in the homeless network had. The friend has been so kind to let him stay there, for as long as he wanted. After entering the flat he locked the door behind him in a hurry, Sherlock you are acting like you are being chased by a ghost or James himself, who happens to be dead. Somehow he had to relax no one knew he was there so it should be possible for him to do.
He went to the bedroom to unpack the things he brought with him, the minute he placed his suitcase on the bed he heard "Fuck me James" immediately. He sat down on the bed hiding his face in the palm of his hands. Why did he hear those words repeatedly each day, and why did he have such naughty dreams about James? If they meant something then what was it he had to figure it out, but how to do that? The whole situation was absurd, as his dear brother would say and it was. It made no sense at all. Sherlock, it´s all nonsense and it shouldn´t affect you at all, James had been his enemy no 1 since the day they met, same the other way around.

There he was leaving London and all his clients behind he even lost John or it felt like he did. John never said he left for good but needed some space away from all the mess. He never told him about the dreams simply because he felt embarrassed by having them. He lifted his head staring out into the corridor, letting the dreams enter his mind he felt disgusted by having to do so. The episodes entering his mind was how he woke up from them, having erection an unknown area for him. Sitting there alone he felt something unexpected a teasing chill went along his spine and it continued to his crotch, he blushed squeezing his leg shut. Human nature clearly played its own game with him trying to catch the virgin that he was, no one ever touched him and he never touched anyone. Now sitting there all by himself he admitted he was being sexually teased by those dreams he had. How could he even let such an area get to his mind what did he know about sex, the word teased his crotch causing him to bite a soft moan back. Sherlock, you have to find a way to stop it, this is not who you are or stand for. The detective the untouched virgin who let some absurd dreams affect him, it was all ridiculous, James is dead Sherlock.
A thought hit him while having the discussion, what if his death been a hoax? The thought alone was freaking terrifying, he never gave it any thought. Did you trick me James and if so, then where are you? How did you manage to pull it off? Where are you now then? Are you waiting for me to figure it all out by myself, or are you waiting for the right moment to contact me? A new chill teased his spine but in a new and stronger way, the urge to know for sure grew on him. He stood up from the bed if he, in fact, did trick him James had a purpose he wanted something. "Or someone" he mumbled knowing who that someone could be, him!

Many questions missing an answer, he had to know the answers to his questions. He would do his research as he always did, but where to start the digging. Not exactly a case he was on for the Yard. No it was all about him and James, a place to start the digging was him and the dreams. Was there, in fact, something hidden in them some sort of message waiting for him to notice. He had to clarify it before he would break; he went to the window trying to focus on the very first. No good to him so he went back to sit on the bed, why don´t you go back to when you woke up having your very first erection, what did you do –nothing at all, it confused him so he let it subside feeling disgusted by having James provoking him in such a rather personal way, it was being a virgin or not. Moving on to the second time, which first had him glare down at his own body still feeling disgusted, as the next he found necessary to do was having a peek. For God sake, he knew how that body part looked like after the little peek he barely touched it outside his pants. That action from him felt pleasant but still left him insecure on what to do next, it made him feel stupid and annoyed in a way he didn´t expect. Go on Sherlock what did you do next, he heard his cry for James the fuck me, James. It was a need for him to actually fuck him senseless, he was begging for it, him inside his virgin ass, in the dream, he had right before he woke up had him beg for it. Thinking about it now going deep into finding a reason for them, made him feel the need, a need that would never happen unless James was, in fact, alive and wanted the same.

A pleasure rolled directly to his male part making him shut his legs it went on to his ass. He bit his lip roughly focusing on that morning, as disgusted as he felt he choose to slide his hand over himself before he went one step further by slipping out of his pants. There he was naked in his own bed being so ashamed, but he continued. For the first time ever he gently and slowly started to stroke his length, teasing his tip. At first, he found it awkward and wanted to stop letting it subside like he did the first time, but he continued finding the right rhythm suitable to him. To his own surprise, he liked the new sensation filling him soft moan filled his bedroom his body felt differently, the tingling he felt or be honest the lust he felt was nothing but pleasing to him. He brought himself to his very first climax during it he found himself moaning James name.
After the private séance he went to take a shower he felt dirty and he needed to wash it all off him, he told himself it would never happen again. Like he could control his own dreams as deducing people and things, he knew such a thing wasn´t possible to do.
Go on but skip how many times you woke up ending up pleasing yourself, in every dream James and him had sex, in some he begged then in others he was the one starting hitting on James. No oral was being included; they did lick each other's hole.
Sherlock felt disgusted again or did he try to ignore how he really felt, by pretending to ignore it? He was, in fact, the only one who knew how it all made him feel. Ok so how do you feel, be honest instead of lying to yourself. It´s not doing any good to you, you have to deal with it.
He went to the kitchen making a cuppa, he needed it right now. He felt cold so confused and somewhere it all made him sad. After making the cuppa he sat down in the living room, the flat was actually pretty nice and comfy, it made him feel safe.

He glared at his phone a new discussion started whether taking it or not, he huffed and took it. His fingers scrolled through the numbers until James showed up. There he was considering to text a dead man or not, if he is dead, that is. The situation made him end up in such a doubt he could hardly think, he stared at his number.
"Sherlock, stop it. You can´t be serious about trying to contact Moriarty your enemy no 1, what is wrong with you. He doesn´t hold the answer to your dreams in the palm of his hand, he would probably end up laughing his ass off. Perhaps he is waiting for you to actually text him being so desperate getting in touch, do you want him to have that victory? He paced the floor again honestly he was close to giving a damn about if he waited or not, Sherlock needed him. Need him, stop right there. Need him to what, fulfill your dreams? Sherlock blushed and there it was again, the pleasure teasing him in a way he couldn´t keep on handling on his own. As a matter of fact, he had a need as the human he was, what do you need Sherlock? Penetration is that the word you are searching for, it was the exact word. More than ever that was exactly what he needed and shouldn´t be anyone doing it. Say the name out loud you know who you want to penetrate you, say it, Sherlock. He inhaled deeply closing his eyes.
"James Moriarty" he whispered. Not satisfaction enough in how it came out. "James Moriarty," He said loud and clear. He was the one he needed more than anyone else; he wanted to feel him penetrate him. How frustrating was that and how to make it happen.
"Are you really alive Jim? If so I need to find you I need to speak with you" his conversation continued "Are you in love with Jim? In love how dull is all of it like love was his area. But it is Sherlock you want him sexually and more than that" He stared at his phone, no he was not texting him at least not now. Something convinced him not to do it just yet, he felt more and more how he was still alive.
For the rest of the afternoon and evening, Sherlock tried to ignore every detail of his dreams, he went to bed a little past midnight. For the first time in weeks, he fell asleep without any problems and slept through the night