Established Johnlock – obvious M/M so you are warned. Just a few ideas of what their honeymoon would be like.
I don't own any characters, etc, etc.
Walking off the plane rather stiffly, John and Sherlock headed to get their luggage. As they waited for the carousel to bring their bags to them, John tried to hide behind a pillar to avoid the annoyed gazes from the other passengers. The first part of their honeymoon had been lovely, but now John was having second thoughts about letting Sherlock arrange it all.
Sherlock stood beside him, leaning on the pillar, not bothering to notice the looks their fellow passengers were giving them.
"John, don't be so touchy."
"Sherlock," John hissed. "I'm not the one who got bored enough to start 'deducing' every single one of the passengers before we left the runway in New York City."
The detective huffed. "I can't help it. I'm not the one who decided to have exactly the same movies and music on the flight from New York to Knoxville as they did from London to New York."
"And that's another thing. Why are we even here? I understand going to New York for our honeymoon, but why Tennessee? I mean, from what I've heard, the southern states are not as understanding of our type of union."
Sherlock grabbed their bags. John took his, raised the handle, and began dragging it behind him. Sherlock followed close behind and continued to talk.
"Oh, ye of little faith. John, we here for the amazing autumnal colours – for the lure of the Great Smokey Mountains," Sherlock paused leaving the one he held in highest esteem for last, " – for the Body Farm."
John stopped abruptly making Sherlock plow into him. The doctor turned around and glared at his husband. "I'm sorry. For the what?"
"The Body Farm, John. The affectionate name that the Forensics Department of the University of Tennessee have given to their study of decomposing bodies in various outdoor environments."
"And, you're taking me to this Body Farm as part of our honeymoon?"
"Yes, Mycroft's wedding present was a sizable donation to the Body Farm which essentially gets us a full day's uninterrupted tour."
"Couldn't he have just given us tokens?"
Sherlock stopped and looked at his new husband's body language – shoulders squared and head slightly bent down. Quite a bit of not good. He started back peddling quickly.
"Well, I have arranged other diversions for you on that day if you choose to not come with me."
"What diversions would those be?"
"The University hospital is nationally known for its work in respiratory illnesses."
"And, you think that I want to spend a whole day of our honeymoon in a hospital?"
"There are other things to do in Knoxville. They do have a rugby club. I've arranged a tour and there is a match on that day."
"Really?" John's face turned a little hopeful. He had played rugby in his youth and still followed it regularly. This diversion to Tennessee might not be as bad as he thought. "What are they called?"
"Oh. Uhm. I have it here somewhere." Sherlock rummaged around in his pockets before pulling out a piece of paper. "They're called, The Knoxville Possums."
"Sherlock?"
"Yes, John."
"What the fuck is a possum?"
The drive from Knoxville to Gatlinburg was breathtaking. The mountains were beautiful and the colours on the leaves held a motley combinations of vivid golds, deep reds, and bright oranges. The warmth of the colours made the mountains welcoming and seemed to have a positive effect on John's mood. Although he didn't want to let Sherlock off that easily for dragging him all this way to look at rotting corpses, John had to admit that this section of Tennessee was beautiful.
Once in Gatlinburg, John also had to admit that Sherlock had made a good choice on their hotel. While it was nothing fancy, the room had a private balcony overlooking a river coming down from the mountains. The freshness of the air added to its coolness while the sound of the river running over rocks and down little waterfalls was relaxing and stimulating at the same time.
John stood on the balcony breathing in crisp air and watched nightfall descend on the town - his hands resting on the railing. A multitude of shops and amusements kept the town lit up. John noticed the light in their room go dark before feeling Sherlock's hand snake around his middle to hug him from behind.
"You're still wet!" John complained.
Sherlock had just emerged from the shower in his blue dressing gown. He still had his normal Sherlock smell because he'd insisted on bringing his usual shower gel with him. It contained maple sap and cypress nuts and left Sherlock with a woody and natural scent which was only enhanced by the scent of the woods and river around them.
"Well, it was your turn for a shower next anyway. Thought you wouldn't mind." Sherlock lowered his head to slowly plant kisses along John's neck. John leaned back into Sherlock. At this point he didn't mind about getting wet any more.
John let out a sigh of want and need, "Let's continue this inside."
John tried to turn around to kiss Sherlock, but the detective placed his hands on top of John's - also grasping the railing.
"No. I want you right now in this spot. Right as you are."
John gasped at the words but tried to hold on to some sort of propriety. "People might see us, love."
"As ever, you see but do not observe. I've already turned the light out behind us. There are no other lights illuminating this side of the building. And the street on the other side of the river is quiet. And, to be perfectly honest," Sherlock leaned in and nibbled on John's ear, "I really don't give a fuck who sees us."
"Oh, god!
"Keep your hands on the railing, soldier."
"Yes, sir!" John hissed.
Sherlock's hands went underneath John's jumper roaming anywhere and everywhere at the same time. He could feel John's toned flesh beneath his hands and couldn't get enough of squeezing his sides. He teased himself and John – not allowing his hands to reach his nipples until every other inch of him had been touched.
"It's a bit chilly, so I'll let you keep your jumper on. Besides, it's one of my favourite's."
"Always knew you had a kink for my jumpers." John turned his head trying to steal a kiss. This time Sherlock did not disappoint him. Their lips meet in a flurry of heat, need, and passion. Tongues fought and teeth clashed for an age before they broke apart.
Sherlock let out a groan that was half lust, half pain. Impatient now, Sherlock's arms surrounded John's waist unbuckling his trousers fiercely. Bending down quickly, he took trousers and pants down in one swift movement. Although desperate now, Sherlock still had the restraint to slowly move back up John purposefully pressing the length and hardness of his cock into John's thigh and arse.
"Jesus, Sherlock. Please." Hands still clutched to the railing, John shifted his position to allow Sherlock better access.
John heard Sherlock opening up the bottle of lube. "Oh, you bad, bad, man."
Sherlock's breath was hot on his neck. "And, you love it."
BTW - certain elements of this story actually exist. The rugby team is called The Knoxville Possums and the Body Farm does exist. I've never seen either but they are real. Please read and review. Cheers!