Title: The social network
Summary: John and Sherlock go abroad for a case. Sherlock Decides to hack into John's facebook page. What he finds prompts him to do something that will change his relationship with John for the foreseeable future.
Chapter 1- The getaway
'Sherlock, I really can't. My patients, I can't leave them for three weeks!'
'All of your regular and indeed semi-regular patients have been notified of your departure and returning dates. Sarah has agreed to take charge at them and hold open your job, curtacy of a fee payed by our client.' I state, who new John would take so much persuasion to embark on what is essentially an all expenses payed vacation.
'It's all well and good that your client is paying for our trips and stay, but is he also paying you an additional fee for your time? How will we pay the rent here at Baker Street?'
'Worry not Watson, our client is not short of cash. I have arranged a fee that will more than cover not only our rent, but will also ensure that the good land lady, Mrs Hudson keep Baker street inhabitable in our absence.
At my last comment, I see John's eyebrows effectively knit together as he attempts to think of another reason not to accompany me. He seems stumped. My deductions were correct. Thank goodness for that. For a moment there I thought that I would be forced to fly and stay alone.
I have recently come to the conclusion that companionship has its benefits, and John Watson seems to have all the correct qualities to make an excellent associate. Loyal, fearless, excellent medical training, intelligent, friendly, kind and looks very sweet in the jumpers he insists upon wearing.
Besides, the plane journey from London to Spain is a whole two hours! That would mean two hours without my violin or BlackBerry, two hours with limited leg room, surrounded with idiots.
I deduce that John will make the whole ordeal much more bearable.
'Besides, the client has already payed for our tickets and hotel rooms.' I add for good measure. John can never bear to appear ungrateful.
'Indeed. But how could you possibly know that I would agree to accompany you?'
Ah, I see. John wishes me to appear to beg. I can do that. 'Please John' I say, adorning the puppy melt in your mouth eyes. John never can resist those eyes.
'Yes fine. I can see that there's no possible way for me to win this argument. When do we leave?'
'Flights at 8 o'clock. I consulted Lestrade, and apparently the airport has a ludicrous rule about being there 3 hours before our flight. The time is currently 3.55. We must leave 30 minutes for a taxi ride to the airport. We have precisely 35 minutes.' I say. Just over half an hour is enough time to pack a bag, isn't it?
'You're kidding! Half an hour?' Apparently not. Note to self: In future, inform John of any flight plans at least an hour in advance.
'35 minuets' I correct.
To this John throws a cushion in my face. It hits me squarely on my nose. Perfect aim as per usual. But rather unnecessary!
Before I have a chance to recipicate John's childish behaviour (and honestly, ive been informed that I am the resident 5 year old), He dashes out of the living room, and into the bathroom, forgetting to lock the door behind him. Perhaps he's finally listened to my point that there are only the two of us in the apartment. Locks are not necessary.
A moment later, I hear the shower run. Hum John in the shower. Naked, covered in soap suds. Drenched hair sticking to his face. Droplets of water dripping down his body, hair lathered in shampoo. How easy would it be for me to walk into be bathroom. Sneak up behind him, trace a line down his back, softly with my finger, and watch as his hair stands on end and goose bumps begin to emerge. He'd turn around. Swiftly, soldier instincts. He'd be shocked and about to say something, but I would place my middle finger on his lips and a second later, place my own lips on his. The first kiss would be soft, chase even. At first he won't respond. I place another kiss onto his lips. It only last a couple of seconds. I then draw away and look into his dark chocolate eyes.
He stairs back at me and pulls me fully under the torrent of water, soaking my clothes until they cling onto me and my shirt appears almost see though. He moves his head towards mine and I instinctively meet him half way. Our lips crash. Moving in sync with each other. His hand his twisted in my hair, pulling me closer still. I nudge his mouth open and slip my tongue into his mouth. Instantly my scences are filled with warmth, his mouth is so warm on mine. So delicious. His tongue joins mine and our mouths slowly move in sync with the other. I abandon his tongue and take to sucking on his bottom lip, watching in ore as he responds with such vigour.
After god knows how long, I pull away, much to the disappointment of John; if the look in his eyes is anything to go by. Smirking at him, I begin to lick and nibble (for want of a better word) at John's collar bone, slowly blowing air at his skin. While I continue my 'assault' on John, he hastily attempts to remove my sodden shirt, slowly undoing the buttons, making me gasp as his fingers touch my bare skin. Then my trousers and boxes, undoing the button and zip and edging them down my legs, forcing me to hitch my breath as his nimble fingers come into contact with my thighs.
Not one to be outdone, I lower my mouth, licking my way down to John's nipples, licking and sucking at them one at a time, until they turn to hard little pebbles in my mouth. I place a kiss on each of them, and then continue to lick my way down his body.
While I do this, john focus's his attentions on placing harp hazard bites around my neck, leaving what im sure will be bruises, or love bites tomorrow.
As my kisses go lower down John's stomach and abdomen, I notice John's breathing become noticeably faster, and his heart rate noticeably increase, I smile to myself, relishing in the fact that I am the cause of the good doctor's loss of control.
I continue my journey downwards until I come face to face with John's penis. By this point the water is running luke-warm but neither of us cares. John' wrapped up in pleasure and I am relishing in what I am about to do to the Watson I had thought to be heterosexual.
I place a single kiss to John's penis, and begin to worry about how to proceed, as despite my earlier confidence, I am indeed a novice at acts of a sexual nature.
John apparently scences my unsurely, for he strokes my hair comfortingly, and ushers me in the right direction. Unsure of my actions, I stroke john with my hand, surprised at the lack of contact it takes for john to groan and squirm. I then take a chance and take the first couple of inches of John's penis into my mouth. He groans and takes hold of my hair, urging me to take more of him into my mouth.
'Oh god John' I moan unconsciously.
I run my tongue up him, causing him to spasm in my mouth and groan my name…
'Oh god Sherlock!'
'Sherlock!'
'Sherlock!'
The voice of John really is rather persistent. I open my eyes and find m top half fully clothed and lying on my bed, mercifully covered with a blanket, so john cannot see any evidence of my rather embarrassing dream.
'Sherlock, I've been calling you for 2 minutes! Were you day dreaming?' He asks. Thank goodness for that. He doesn't appear discsusted at me. He mustn't be aware of my dream.
'Yes I believe I must have been' I confirm before I actually look at John. He's not wearing a shirt. Calm down Sherlock. This is perfectly normal. Lots of flatmates walk around shirtless. I doesn't mean anything.
'What can I do for you John?' I ask, when I finally come to terms with the fact that John is standing at my bedside looking genuinely worried.
'I heard you moan my name. I thought you were having a nightmare.'
'Oh' of course. A nightmare. That would explain everything. Now, what to be dreaming about… 'I uh dreamed about the night at the pool' I say, knowing that will require no further explanation.
John's face turns white at the memory. 'Are you alright?'
'Perfectly. Now, go and pack. You have…. 23 minuets' I say after consulting my watch.
John then walks out of my room. When he reaches my door however I call out 'John?'
He turns to look at me so I continue 'Thank you for being there for me.'
'Any time.' He says as he walks out of my room, shutting the door behind him.
The second he leaves the room, I leap out of bed, clean myself with a stray tissue, and remove my dirty clothing. I step across a whole array of experiments (most of them failed or inconclusive) to reach my wardrobe. I throw on a shirt, purple in colour, a pair of dark blue skinny jeans (the pair mummy bought me), socks and shoes, and grab my trade mark back coat and blue scarf to put on when we leave. I reach up to the top of my wardrobe and pull down my pre-packed suit case, heavy and back in colour, and a travel bag complete with tickets, money, insurance papers, relevant case files, passport, BlackBerry, iPod, and books, and place it next to the case. I double check I have everything then look again at my watch. 4.21, 9 more minutes. In order to stop my mind from dwelling on my 'dream' containing John, I mentally attempt to recall every detail I can about the case I have been hired for.
This tactic appears to work, as when I suffice, I hear John calling me, alerting me that it is time to leave Baker Street.
To cut a long story short, a little under an hour later, we arrive at the airport and the check in desk.
'Doctor John Watson and Sherlock Holmes to check in.' I say to the young woman at the desk, while john hands her our passports and other bits of apparently relevant paper.
Deductions:
.mid to late 20's.
.married 10 months unhappily- has nothing in common with husband.
.Husband is older. Has 1… no 2 children
.Woman doesn't get along with children.
.Clothes dishevelled. Been thrown on in a hurry. Eyes slightly puffy at the corners. – Family member ill, sleeping at hospital. – Most likely mother. Terminal patient.
Conclusions:
Married because she wanted companionship with mother ill and father dead. No siblings. Regrets getting married. Doesn't get on with husband, works despite having no real reason too, wants to get out of the house -air ports command long hours. Husband has 2 children, both young teens, both resent woman.
'Alright gentlemen, if you'd like to place your bags that you wish to check in on the conveyor belt. Now, does either of your bags contain any sharp objects, explosive devices or potential weapons? She asks, bored look etched on her face. She is obviously not expecting John or I to say yes, so it comes to quite a shock to her and myself when john says:
'Um... Yes. My companion no dought does. He's an um... scientist. You might want to check his bag?'
Author's note: My first 'M' rated fic. What do you think?
TBC?