A/N: I got some requests for an epilogue to this story, and this started percolating around in my head. BE WARNED: THERE BE SMUT AHEAD, NOT INCREDIBLY GRAPHIC SMUT, BUT SMUT NONETHELESS...
3 months later
They stumbled into the front hallway of Baker Street, laughing hysterically. John leant against the wall, head thrown back, tears streaming down his face. Sherlock braced himself against the bannister, trying to catch his breath.
"Oh God, that was brilliant," John gasped. "Anderson is such an idiot! God, I love you."
Sherlock grinned, his eyes shining at John. He surged forward….
Their hands plunged into each other's hair as their lips met in a heated kiss. The post-case-snogging-session-in-the-hallway tradition had started the case after that monumental dinner at Angelo's. True, that first snogging session hadn't been quite so passionate as this one, but it quickly became the norm for them to embrace (and more) upon arriving home after solving a case.
In the days after John had told Sherlock that he wanted them to try, that he was more terrified of losing Sherlock without ever finding out if it could work, John had told Sherlock that he truly regretted turning him down so flat after that first kiss.
"I want, no, I really need, to make it up to you," John had haltingly explained. "I'll never forget the look on your face when I pushed you away that day. You were shattered, horrified. I can't imagine how you felt. I did that to you. I put us through those weeks of agony because I didn't even try to think about the possibility of being with you. I'm sorry. I promise you, next time I won't push you away."
As luck would have it, at the next crime scene Anderson had once again proven his lack of competence. Upon arriving back at the flat, John had commented on his idiocy. Sherlock's gaze had snapped to John's and John had barely whispered "God, I love you."
Even with the promise heavy in the air between them Sherlock had hesitated, so John took that first step toward him, and the new tradition had been born.
Now, scarves were cast aside, shirts were being unbuttoned, and Sherlock was nipping lightly along John's clavicle. John's head was thrown back, giving him more access, his hands running over Sherlock's shoulders, pulling him closer. Sherlock's teeth sank in, marking his lover and eliciting an embarrassingly loud moan. Sherlock pulled back, reluctantly.
"Upstairs," he panted against John's neck. "Before Mrs. Hudson comes out and catches us. Again."
John laughed weakly. "That would be what, three times? She'll kill us."
Sherlock pulled John forward off the wall and gave him a gentle shove towards the stairs. John raced up to the landing, then turned back while Sherlock was still one step below him. It was the only time he had a height advantage on Sherlock, and even then it was only a half inch or so. Oh well, he'd take what he could get.
He slipped a hand around Sherlock's nape and pulled him in for another kiss. Sherlock, in his haste to get into their flat, kept backing John up, around the landing and to the next flight, where they nearly went sprawling when John's heels caught on the first step.
"Keep moving, John," Sherlock muttered against John's lips. " You know the stairs are off limits too. "
"She was so happy when we got together." John chuckled, his eyes smiling up into his beau's. "Didn't take her too long to start making rules." John got his feet under him and continued backing up the stairs, dragging Sherlock with him.
"Maybe if her sister hadn't been with her when she walked in on us that one time... "
They crashed into the sitting room, Sherlock backing John towards the sofa.
"Oh no, love. You forgot rule number three. Again."
Sherlock sighed, releasing his hold on John, but not taking his eyes off of him as he backed away.
"'Boys, you really must close your door! What will your clients think? Or that nice detective inspector?'" He mimicked their landlady with surprising accuracy considering his deep voice. He shut the door with slightly more force than necessary, then threw the bolt as well.
He approached John in a manner that could only be termed as predatory. He shrugged out of both the Belstaff and his designer suit jacket and dropped them unceremoniously to the floor. His hands moved to undo the buttons at his cuffs.
"No more stalling. Clothes. Off."
"Stalling? Who's stalling?" John dropped his shirt to the floor as well and met Sherlock halfway. He grasped Sherlock's shoulders and now began backing him across the sitting room.
He spun them slightly and pinned Sherlock against the low back of his chair, pushing down on his shoulders firmly until Sherlock gave in and sat on the back of the chair, evening their heights somewhat.
"That's better," John growled. "It's the only way I can reach that ridiculous neck of yours." He trailed kisses along Sherlock's jaw, back to that sensitive spot just beneath his ear, and nipped at it lightly.
Sherlock groaned and wound his arms around John, drawing him closer. As John worked his way down Sherlock's neck, Sherlock reached down and slid his hands into the waist of John's jeans, his long fingers seeking the rounded flesh and digging in.
John shoved the fitted shirt off of Sherlock's shoulders as his kisses trailed down that ridiculous neck, nipping lightly until he got to the top of his trapezius, where he bit down firmly and sucked.
The reaction from Sherlock was electric. He nearly fell off the chair when his hips shot forward to grind against John, his hands pulling John forward to increase the friction. After a gasping breath, Sherlock lowered his mouth to John's neck and returned the favour.
There was no telling which one of them was moaning in such an undignified fashion. Likely it was both of them. Hands were fumbling between them as they each scrabbled at the fastenings of each other's trousers. In short order, trousers were opened and hastily shoved down to their thighs, along with accompanying pants.
As their cocks brushed against each other, both men pulled back slightly and gazed down between them. Sherlock reverently wrapped a hand around them both, inhaling sharply at their combined heat.
"Oh, God, yes," John fairly growled, placing one hand over Sherlock's and increasing the pressure, just slightly. His other hand he plunged back into Sherlock's curls, tipping his head back to ravage his mouth again.
Sherlock began to positively claw at his trousers where they were bunched close to his knees, seeking the pocket. He managed to shove his hand in and retrieved a small tube of lube.
John rumbled out a laugh. "What, you carry that with you everywhere?"
"Complaining?"
"Not in the least," John gasped at the sensation as Sherlock applied a copious amount to his hand and began his fevered movements again.
"Oh, Christ," John's breath accelerated to pants as he began to rut furiously against Sherlock. He dropped his forehead down onto Sherlock's shoulder and closed his eyes, trying to draw out the pleasure for them both. Sweet Jesus, this wasn't going to last long….
It was with relief that he heard Sherlock begin to let out a high, keening whine, tension making his whole frame rigid.
John lifted his head and took in the glorious sight of Sherlock coming undone. Seeing Sherlock's eyes wide, pupils fully dilated, mouth open, breath rasping hoarsely, was always enough to send John over the edge…
Sherlock came harshly, ropes of semen landing on his stomach and chest. John cried out as he began to orgasm before Sherlock even finished. Seeing their ejaculate combined on Sherlock's torso made him want to come all over again.
They collapsed together, heedless of the mess, kissing lightly and letting their breathing calm.
John began to chuckle and Sherlock quirked a brow at him.
"Are we ever going to make it to the bedroom after a case?"
"A post-case shag? Occur in the bedroom? I thought that was against our rules…" Sherlock ran his gaze over his lover and shuddered inwardly. His still had a hard time believing that this was actually his life now. Having John. All of John. As many languages as he knew, and as exhaustive as his vocabulary, there were not words.
"Let me get something to clean us up," John sighed happily against Sherlock's shoulder. He untangled himself from Sherlock's grasping limbs, hitched his jeans back up to his waist, and leant back in for a quick peck. "I'll be right back."
He sauntered off to the bathroom, grinning like an idiot. If anyone had told him six months ago that he would be absolutely mad for his arrogant, genius, male flatmate- he'd have thought they were completely off their rocker. He had been worried about being intimate with a man, feeling awkward about it, maybe not being able to be aroused at all, but he had quickly come to a realization. Loving and hating? They had nothing to do with a person's gender and everything to do with the person. He loved Sherlock, that didn't mean he loved men in general. He couldn't stand Irene Adler, that didn't mean he couldn't stand women. As much as he had alway identified himself as straight, someone like Sally Donovan would never have stood a chance. He should have known when he ditched date after date for Sherlock, that his feelings deserved a second look.
He was still smiling to himself as he ran warm water over the flannel. He glanced up at his reflection, relaxed, happy, and...
"Sherlock! You did it again, damn you!" John hollered as he stormed back into the sitting room. "At least you can cover yours! How the hell am I supposed to cover up this?" He gestured to the bright purple mark, high on his neck.
Sherlock smirked.
"I didn't hear you complaining at the time." His eyes crinkled in amusement. He waited for John to connect the dots…
John spluttered, fumed, and stomped around the sitting room. Then, realizing he still had the now cool flannel in his hands he threw it at Sherlock, who began to wipe himself up, wincing at the temperature. After getting the worst of it off of himself, he too pulled his trousers up, leaving them open. Hopefully, doing them up would have been a wasted effort.
John stopped suddenly, and spun to face Sherlock, a look of dawning creeping over his face. His eyes narrowed, and he began to stealthily moved toward his partner. Sherlock felt his pulse quicken.
"You did it on purpose, didn't you? You love marking me, but you know I get cranky about it. You know it makes me want to pin you down and mark you where everyone else can see it too. You would just love that, wouldn't you?" He could practically see Sherlock's pulse jumping in his neck as his lips parted and his respirations picked up. "You can't wait to show up to the next crime scene with us with matching love bites. Look at you, look how much the thought of that turns you on…."
"John-" Sherlock swallowed convulsively.
"You really want that, don't you?" John ghosted his fingers along Sherlock's ribs. "You want some public declaration that we're together. The most important people already know, but you want it public, don't you?" He paused as the mood changed between them. John spoke softly, but seriously. "Can you tell me why?"
"I- John," Sherlock stammered, looked down at the floor, all his earlier bravado gone. He took a deep breath, keeping his eyes downcast. "When you show up with a hickey, no one thinks anything of it. It could be from any girlfriend, any one night stand, it's no big deal. It doesn't necessarily mean anything about me. Maybe it only indicates that you are still seeking affection elsewhere. But-" he stopped there, embarrassed at wanting, needing this so much.
"But if you show up with one too, the same day as me, then maybe they'll draw the right conclusion, yes?" John finished for him. Sherlock nodded, still looking at the floor. John slid a finger under his lover's chin and tipped his head up until their eyes met. "You know I'm not ashamed of you, right? That I'm proud to be with you? Yeah, the whole PDA thing makes me uncomfortable, but that isn't as important as your feelings. It really bothers you that it's not general knowledge?"
Sherlock hesitated. In for a penny...
"As long as most people don't know, it, well it makes it look like you are still available." The last portion of that statement came out in a rush.
John's mouth dropped open in shock.
"You know I'd never do that, don't you? I'd never just drop you for anyone else? That I'm not even looking? Hell, I don't want to look, looking is the farthest thing from my mind!"
Sherlock winced at John's protestations. He knew he shouldn't have said anything, now John was upset with him.
"No! Stop that train of thought right there. I am not mad at you. I'm mad at myself for not realizing this was so important to you. You're right, everyone should know. Maybe then the witnesses will stop flirting with you. Sends me 'round the twist that does."
Now it was Sherlock's turn to be shocked. John was jealous? Of what? No one was ever interested in Sherlock, at least not once he spoke to them...
"You don't think it makes me crazy? Watching you flirt with them right in front of me? Watching them flirt back?" John let out a full belly laugh. "Lestrade told me once that when they flirt back with you was when he would check to see if I had brought my gun."
"But you know that's just for a case! It means nothing! Less than nothing! I wouldn't even bother to deduce those morons if it weren't for a case!"
"Of course I know that, you tit. But it doesn't change the fact that, well, you don't flirt with me like that, not where anyone else can see." John cleared his throat. "Not saying I want us all over each other, and I know sometimes the flirting can help get information, but maybe we both need to loosen up a bit."
Sherlock wound his long arms around John and pulled him in, nuzzling his hair. "How did I get so lucky? To find you in the first place. To have the chance to get to know you. To fall in love with you. To have you love me back. I have never been so happy." He sighed, and softened his voice even further. "Or so afraid."
"Of what? Losing me? Good luck with that. I've never had a relationship mean so much to me. I thought I had been in love before, but I've never felt anything close to this. You are well and truly stuck with me Sherlock Holmes."
John tipped his head up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Sherlock's chin. He sighed and pulled back a bit. "Let's get ourselves decent and order a take away. We'll cuddle on the sofa, watch some crap telly, and go to bed early." He winked up at his beau as he continued. "And then we'll see about that hickey of yours…"