Chapter 2: Denial

The next day John shuffled out from his room and into the kitchen, needing his cup of tea before he was fully functional. As he sipped the hot tea, he planned the whole day out. He'd call up a girl and go out, head back to her place and shag her until the confusing feelings Sherlock had stirred up settled. If porn won't work, a willing girl will.

Sherlock sat on the couch in his usual thinking position. When John passed him, he said one thing before going back to being silent. "It won't help." What John was going to do was obvious since Sherlock knew simple porn couldn't out do the mental images that were most likely in the doctor's head.

John paused at the door and considered playing dumb before deciding against it and walking out. Sherlock would tell the truth and John didn't want to hear this words. He called up the staircase. "I'll be back later today."

The detective didn't go after him. John would find out soon enough that what he had planned wouldn't help. In most cases, he found that it made it worse. Sherlock moved to his violin and began to play. John would be back soon enough.

John met up with a very nice girl with beautiful overflowing tits. He charmed her easily and lead him back to her place. She knelt right inside the entryway and started sucking him off. And yet, the entire time he found himself remembering the jolt Sherlock gave him with just his words. "Ohh... Shit."

Sherlock listened as the music swirled through the air as he played on of the pieces that he recalled John being quite fond of. The notes filled the flat as he stood by the window and continued to wait. He let his mind dance around John and what he would do when he returned.

After banging the girl, Sarah? no.. Rachel? Whatever, John walked out, feeling worse than before. He was going to march home and demand Sherlock to behave so he can go back to his normal life.

Sherlock packed up his violin slowly after he finished another piece. His mind was cranking away with what would happen when John got home. He was well aware that the doctor would want this to go back to normal and Sherlock was not going to give him what he wanted. Well, what he thought he wanted.

As he walked down their street, John looked up at their window, as he always did when he went out alone. There he was, standing by the window. A soft warmth filled John. He liked living with Sherlock, it was exciting. As he walked up the stairs he shrugged. Surely Sherlock was just messing with him last night, he did say he was bored. It'll all work out if he only acts normal. He walked into their flat. "Hello Sherlock, you moved from the couch. Not bored anymore are you?"

"Acting like nothing happens isn't going to change the fact that something did, John." Sherlock moved about as he put his violin away. "How did your attempt to get what I said out of your head go?" The detective took a glance at John before turning to the window. "Not well, it would seem if your posture has anything to say about it."

He stood stock still in the doorway, cursing the man in his head. "I... I had a lovely time with... Deanne?" He thought he heard a snort of laughter. "Oh shut up Sherlock, can't I even sit down before you start confusing me again?" He grumbled as he took off his coat and puttered around.

"You don't even remember her name." Sherlock said as he turned back to John, the gears turning in his head very quickly. With a course of action decided, Sherlock crossed the room in two strides and had John cornered against the wall. "I'd like to know why you think you can't remember her name." He was close enough that if John moved, they would touch but as long as he didn't there was a small space between them.

John pressed back against the wall, breathing hard as Sherlock trapped him, filling the area with his scent. "I.. Well." He looked away from sherlocks amazing eyes. "I imagine its because she was fairly boring. She talked to much and... And I recall her talking about her cat for half the date, but I tuned out." He swallowed again and glanced back into those steely blue eyes. "Not that it matters one way or another."

Sherlock leaned so that his lips brushed John's ear as he spoke, his voice dropping an octave. "It's because your mind was else where, John. When you were shagging her, what did you think about the most? Me, hand cuffing you to my bed and having my way with you for days? Or perhaps how I could so easily arose you with words alone? I bet that left you wondering what it would be like if I actually did all those things."

John stared at nothing as Sherlock spoke into his ear, painfully aware of how close the handsome man was to him, shame filling him as he slowly got aroused "Sherlock... Please... If you're bored we'll go find a case."

"Answer me, John." Sherlock said firmly as his warm breath ghosted over the doctor's ear and neck. It would be so easy for him to just take what he wanted, but this was a lot better. He would ultimately get the same result and when John gave in, Sherlock wouldn't have forced him into anything.

He shuddered softly. "Fine you twat. Yes. I couldn't get you out of my head." He shifted his gaze to the other mans. "Happy?"

"Not quite." Sherlock's face moved close enough that his breath would warm the doctor's lips, his blue eyes locked on John's. "What exactly were you thinking as you shagged that nameless woman? What was going through that head of yours?"

John felt weak in knees as Sherlock pressed for details and slowly shook his head. "Please..."

"Tell me." The detective demanded in a low tone that left no room for questions. "Now."

He looked down and muttered softly. "All of it. I couldn't get any of out my bloody head. The handcuffs and all the rest" He closed his eyes. "Please let me past now."

"I'm not done with you, John. Not anywhere near done. I will have you on your knees begging for me to just /touch/ you and when I finally do, you will never be satisfied with anyone else ever again. You will be mine, John. You can't avoid it because you already are." Sherlock backed up and walked away, heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

John let out a shuddering breath and watched the man walk away. As the door closed he leaned against the wall and slipped his hand into trousers and stroked himself wildly until he came in his pants. "Oohh fuck.."

Sherlock stripped and turned on the shower to as cold as it would go before stepping under the spray. His body shuddered at the icy water but he didn't turn it off until he wasn't as aroused. Then he turned the heat up and just stood there under the warm water for a while.

John shuddered and swiftly wake to his room, his cheeks burning with shame.

After a while, Sherlock got out and dried himself off with the towel before wrapping it around his waist and walking into the living room. He didn't bother getting dressed as he laid down on couch and stared at the ceiling.

John slowly walked out of his room in a different pair of slacks and stared at the half naked and still slightly wet form of Sherlock. He dropped his eyes. "Would you like some tea?"