This is a two part one-shot written with Winterimperfect (Who role play Sherlock)
John sat comfortably on the couch with the evening paper, reading over a rather fascinating article when a sound from his companion, seated at the dining table on his laptop, distracted him. He glanced up to see Sherlock studying the screen with a perplexed expression, one finger pressed to his bottom lip, an obvious sign of confusion.
"Sherlock, what is confusing you?"
Sherlock glanced up at the blonde before gesturing to his screen, "What the devil is 'Johnlock' and why is it all over the internet?"
"You and I. Together."
"Really? People have too much time on their hands." He clicked something and was silent for a short while before he snorted and glanced up at John, "They also seem to have their hands in their pants. Where do they get this stuff? I only know about it because I got a message asking if I knew what 'Johnlock' was. This is because of your blog, isn't it?"
"My blog? You think this is because of my blog?" John asked, putting the paper down.
"Clearly. How else would such romanticism come off of our cases. You always romanticise our cases when you embellish them for your blog, pepper them with photos of you and I which, clearly, is how this came about," Sherlock muttered, turning his laptop around to display a shocking piece of art that had the two of them in the throes of passion, "I must say, they do seem to make me far more attractive than I truly am."
John looked at the photo for a second before looking away, "I don't romanticise our cases I just blog about them." He grabbed his paper before muttering, "You are attractive."
Sherlock cocked a brow, "Flattery will not change the subject. You do add elements of romance and bravado. I would much prefer it be a clinical representation of my methods, but instead you create fodder for these... strange people."
John put the paper down again, "What elements do I add to make my blog have romance and bravado in them?"
"Everything that's not explaining how I come across the evidence through process of elimination and my intellect and focusing more on heroics that simply aren't there."
"Why would I write about that?"
"When I gave you permission to write about the cases, I was assuming it would be a collection of scientific analyses on my methods, not a harrowing adventure."
John let out a sigh, "I can write them any way I choose to."
"You know, I can very well ban you from writing about us."
"Really? How are you going to do that?"
Sherlock straightened and got into John's personal space, bracing his hands on the wall either side of the blondes frame. He leaned in rather close as he whispered, "Tie you up."
John froze in shock, briefly, before he realised he was speechless, he took a deep breath, "Are you serious?"
"Very." Sherlock breathed, his voice dropping an octave as he stared into John's eyes.
John's heart skipped a beat as he looked into the glasz eyes of his flat mate, he could feel his growing erection. He was trying to think of something to say. "Um… I don't see how that would help."
"You wouldn't be able to write those silly posts about us if you're busy being restrained to your mattress, John." Sherlock replied, straightening up and dropping his arms, turning to walk away.
John tensed up as he saw Sherlock turn around, obviously about to disappear into his room, and- without a moments hesitance- grabbed the tall mans shirtsleeve and spun him around. Sherlock's expression of surprised deepened as two large hands found their way to his face and John's lips were on his.
Sherlock stiffened at first; his mind going a mile a minute as he tried to understand what was happening. His hands came to rest on the others hips, uncertain as to what he was expected to do. He knew John had... Romantically inclined feelings towards him- had for a while really- but he wasn't a man of emotion, he was a man of science and logic. But, he was still a man with needs; needs and wants that he knew John could fulfill and that he got an intimate fondness for the man. For all he knew this fondness was the only way he could 'like' a person. With that revelation, his mind stalled and John was pulling away with disappointment shining in his eyes. That was the last straw and Sherlock's hands flew up; grasping at the sandy hair and slamming his lips to John's- albeit painfully and inexperienced- but he did so in hope of getting the message across.