A/N: Thought of another chapter. It's tame, no real warnings, just a relationship between two men, no lemons. Kissing and stuff.
Chapter Two
Can't Take My Eyes Off of You
'You push me, I don't have the strength to, Resist or control you, So take me down, Take me down, You hurt me, but do I deserve this, You make me so nervous, Calm me down, Calm me down'
-Maroon 5, Never Gonna Leave This Bed-
John stood on the far side of the crime scene, speaking to Greg as Sherlock crouched down next to the body that was about twenty feet inside the tape line.
Greg was filling John in on all the semantics that Sherlock often dismissed while the detective studied the body and made his deductions.
As Lestrade talked John nodded his head in understanding though he wasn't sure he was actually comprehending anything Greg was relating to him. Instead his eyes were watching Sherlock work as his head kept bobbling and he would murmur affirmations.
John's eyes continued to stare and the man heard some vegery about Greg needing to go talk to Sally, at which time John just nodded him off some more and then turned fully to watch his friend.
It was a warm day for early fall and Sherlock had removed his coat and scarf, yanking on the blue nitrile gloves, rolling up his sleeves and scurrying about the body like a bloodhound. John watched as in the afternoon light the man examined every inch of the corpse, keen eyes intense and focused.
Sherlock was doing his best to hide his excitement and fascination, hands confident and sure as they searched and explored. John's eyes carefully studying the man's shoulders, arms, thighs and even his backside though that only lasted a second before his eyes jerked back to Sherlock's face.
In the back of his mind John heard faded conversations from two days prior and he brought fingers to his lips, nearly stabbing himself in the eye with his pencil as he mused on the words that had been swirling around in his head.
Mmm, do you like that?
I don't know do I?
You tell me-
A shiver runs up his spine as he shakes his head and tries to remove the sepia imagery of him and Sherlock naked on the couch, blanket pulled high to block out light and hands exploring in a rather timid yet hungry way.
Yeah, Sherlock, I can't- nope, not going to work for me-
You sure, doctor? I deduce your body says different.
Haha, no- Sherlock don't- hahaha, no, mate, I mean it- I don't think this is going to-
Come on, let me deduce somethings about you, Mm? Might as well feel it out. Was your idea after all, you so sure you don't want me to try and convince you otherwise- I have more brandy-
…..Yeah, alright, come on then-
"Bloody hell." John sighs as he feels heat come to his face and he looks away from his friend and instead glares across the street only to spy a cafe.
"Right." He says with relief as he wanders away from the crime scene and through slow moving traffic to get in line. Grabbing a coffee for both him and Sherlock, he turns back but stops, knowing the man hardly ever eats or drinks while on a case but seemingly wanting something to do besides stare at his friend. He doesn't want to think about the fact that at the ripe old age of thirty-eight he had explored his sexuality with his best friend and once again flatmate.
The discoveries had been startling and John wasn't sure how he wanted to handle or face them. "Bloody knob." John muses to himself as he shakes his head and wishes in this moment he could just forget what he had done.
Yet, every time he looked at his friend the only thing he felt was a warm burn of affection and fondness in his chest and a small smile would come to his face as his eyes watched Sherlock work.
Care for some tea?
Yeah? You gunna bring it?
Mmmhmm.
Sans the shirt if you please, I've had enough of watching your buttons strain for one lifetime-
Jealous?
What, of your broad shoulders and stick thin figure, hardly.
You wound me-
Yes, that I will do, just pass me the gun.
Someone's snappy this morning.
Always, don't go letting on, Sherl.
No! Absolutely not, I refuse!
Janine got to.
Not that again, for the last time-
For a case, yeah I know….Sherl...
He'd never flirted with a man before, perhaps it was easier with Sherlock because they had their own form of playful banter already. Flirting wouldn't be that far off from the jibes they usually slung at each other anyway.
Maybe that's why it was so much easier then he had expected. Sherlock and him had an established relationship already, had been through so much, had shared certain aspects of themselves that normally would be kept under the radar from those closest.
They had been like brothers, sometimes Sherlock acting the more petulant of them, the kid brother then. John the parental brother, yet now, it seemed that brother wasn't the right term and friend didn't seem like enough.
You know we are going to have to talk about it. I will need time to sort it. Make sure it's….okay. Yeah?
Yet, they haven't talked about it and Sherlock has been so well behaved. There are small things John has noticed in the last two days. In public it is like it never happened, Sherlock treats him no different even though John has been rather empty headed on this case and unable to focus the rest of the time.
However, when at home, while Sherlock does not pursue any intimate attention from him, the man does seem to touch him more. A lingering hand on the shoulder, lips coming closer to his ear when he leans over John's shoulder as the man types.
Otherwise, Sherlock has let sleeping dogs lay and John isn't sure whether he is happy about it or not. Doesn't know what to do about it actually. If Sherlock had been a girl, say a woman named Shirley…..
That's stupid a hell, John. But just, okay, yeah go with it….if Sherlock were a Shirley, still the same personality, just with… breasts and a vag…..different parts….and we had enjoyed a night of sexual exploration how would you be acting now?
"You'd be all over him...her….all over her." John muses softly out loud.
Cuddles on the couch, stealing kisses, maybe a nice smack to the behind on the way out the door….. and John chuckles before the smile drops from his face as he realizes he is coveting a woman who doesn't exist.
But it's not a woman named Shirley, it's a man named Sherlock, someone you have known for years and have a preexisting relationship with. He was the Best Man at your wedding….he is a bloke…..a dude….a male…..bloody posh boy with no experience…..
"Who says he has no experience, seemed experienced last night-" and John feels a presence next to him and looks to see a woman staring at him strangely as she adds some cream to her coffee.
John smiles and nods before saying,"Just my... dog trainer…..lots of experience with….dogs-" and he instantly starts walking before he makes a bigger creepy asshole out of himself.
"Christ." he murmurs as his eyes scan the street and watch for the cars that continue to move at a snail's pace passed the crime scene, cop cars and other such things clogging the roadway.
He makes it to the far side and realizes, as he moved closer to the tape, that Sherlock had replaced his coat and scarf and is removing the blue gloves.
John walks up, neither Sherlock nor Greg sparing him a glance as he stands there holding the coffees. His eyes stare at the space before him, not really seeing anything until finally he is addressed and he looks up between Sherlock and Greg, both staring intently.
"Hmm, sorry, what?" John asks.
"Your notes, may I see them?" Sherlock asks and John's eyes grow wide, "Huh, uh, noooo, no I don't think they will be….huh….helpful just now. Ahem, Maybe later, here, coffee for you….and I'll just wait over here, shall I?" and John moves away quickly, taking a swift drink from his coffee before he comes to a bench off to the side of the small park that is a colorful rainbow of green and yellow and stares off.
"He alright?"
"Hm?" Sherlock offers as he stares after his friend, John peeking a glance his way before looking off in the other direction.
"He's been acting strange all morning, like he's got something on his mind. Something happen with baby Rosie?"
Sherlock sighes, "Don't worry about it. I will have your murderer by tonight, you just go off and do whatever it is you do while you wait for me to solve the case."
"Right. Time for a beer." Greg says as he slaps Sherlock on the back jokingly before he turns and calls out to Donovan to start wrapping things up.
Sherlock rolls his eyes and then crosses to John, "Alright?" the detective asks softly as he comes to stand before his friend and look down at him, hands pulled tight behind his back as fists clench.
John seems to be looking everywhere but at him until Sherlock calls to him softly, "John."
"Mmm?" the man manages a glance up to him before looking away, he clears his throat and stands, sniffing and running a thumb under his nose, "Yeah, fine, just fine." and John continues to scan his surroundings and avoid eye contact.
"Look at me." Sherlock says softly and finally, after another few seconds of hesitation John meets Sherlock's eyes and in that moment of looking John's always stoic and rather indifferent face melts and a very small hidden smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Sherlock spies it but says nothing, gives no indication he suddenly understands why John has been avoiding looking at him.
"Is everything alright? Do you need to go home?" Sherlock asks as he glances around to make sure they still have their privacy.
"What? No, I don't…..don't need need to go...anywhere." and Sherlock sees John's slip growing as the affectionate smile takes a firmer hold and the detective realizes that John has been struggling to keep things professional, respectable and above all else, quiet.
"Hmmm, I'd not mention a thing if I didn't realize the problem, but.. you are smiling at me."
John instantly looks away and once again that stoic mask of indifference slides into place, "Yeah, I know, Sherlock, that's why I haven't been looking at you. Can't seem to help it. Don't know what I'm on about but, it's best if I just keep my distance until the case is done, until we are back at Baker street."
"Yes. Like I said, perhaps it's best if you go home. You are distracted-"
"Because we haven't talked-" John snaps suddenly before he stops himself and looks down, shaking his head irritably, "Right, yes, I'll just….go home."
"This is an open and shut case, all I need is the proof which I should be able to locate in the next hour or so given the trains are on time."
"They are never on time, save for the 2:30 to Lancaster, best hurry off….maybe I should come, I mean….only an hour...we can-"
"Look at me." Sherlock orders gently and John does reluctantly, his jaw setting hard yet when he looks at Sherlock the barest trace of a smile hits the corner of his mouth and he leans a little closer, "Best go." Sherlock suddenly says as he steps away and John instantly nods and rubs a hand down his face, "Yeah, best. See you at home."
"Right." Sherlock says as he watches John walk off, his own face remaining passive though he looks down to the coffee in his hand and shakes his head in dismay and then he is on his way to Charing Cross Station.
John enters the flat to spy a note on the door and he pulls it down to read.
John, took baby Rosie to Meena's with me for the evening, will return in the morning. Sherlock, I want more than an hours notice if a case is going to last longer than you told me. Hope you can work it out. Love, Molly.
John crumpled the note angrily before he pressed it to his forehead and groaned, "You cock." he grumbled as he realized Sherlock may have lied about the case only taking an hour or two.
Suddenly his phone makes a noise and he reaches into his pocket angrily before seeing it's from Sherlock. He hesitates before another text notice pings onto his screen and John reluctantly unlocks his phone and reads the messages.
Sorry. SH
We can talk when I get home. SH
John wants to respond with a rather crass comment on the man's behavior and handling of the situation but honestly what can John expect. It isn't like Sherlock has done this before, nor has John and in all honesty it really is his own fault.
Being unable to control his response when looking at Sherlock like some doe eyed school girl, showing an affection that is not only unexamined but also dangerous to their way of life makes it rather hypocritical for John to be angry at the man who could control himself.
John is embarrassed as well as uncomfortable with this turn of events but he decides to move on with his night as if everything was okay.
He elects to take a shower and allows the heat to wash away some of his stress and confusion. Going up to his room to dress in something more comfortable before coming back down, making a sandwich and a tea tray. He relaxes in his chair and eats slowly, musing on the newest chaos that has been introduced into his life.
John Watson and Sherlock Holmes, possible sexual partners or at the very least explorers of things better left unsaid.
His mouth grows dry as newspaper headlines run through his head and he realizes that he is not in the right mindset to have this discussion with Sherlock.
His head turns towards the couch, now vacant of two nude and exploring bodies.
I deduce, you enjoy when I touch you-
Mmm, yeah, I do- don't know...its nice...but I feel….uncomfortable about it.
Understandable….but I also deduce, you like when I kiss you….right here….
Oh god...heh...hell….
And stroke fingers along your-
S-Sherlock….
You like my voice too….and how I smell… it comforts you
N-not true….
Mmm, very true, in fact, you also like when I suck on your shoulder-
E-Enough….just….quiet.
But you don't want me to be, you like when I describe things I am doing-
Shite-
Just tell me one thing you like….I could deduce it all….but it's best you admit to something on your own.
Is it?
Yes, tell me, John, what do you like-
I l-like…..I like….
"Nope." and John stands abruptly, setting his half eaten sandwich aside and downing his tea before he heads to his room. He stops though, looking down the hall to the closed door waiting in the shadows.
He glances around and then slowly approaches, his eyes locked onto the handle. He stands outside it for a moment before he takes the knob and opens the door. The room beyond is dark and so he reaches a hand out and clicks on the lamp next to Sherlock's bed.
The wave of familiar scent that hits him crashes around in his head hard and he looks about the room, spying all his friends personal items, feeling how this room always tends to be warmer than the rest of the flat.
He takes a few steps in and when no alarms go off, the British Government doesn't show up and his phone doesn't chime with some all knowing text from Sherlock he sits on the edge of his friends bed with a huff.
"Jesus Christ. What are you doing? Get it together, John. Jussst-" but he trails off when he looks over at Sherlock's pillows and slowly reaches out a hand.
You like my voice…..how I smell…. It comforts you...
He takes up the pillow and pulls it into his lap, staring at it a moment before he closes his eyes, "Egyptian cotton, the posh bastard." John muses before he rubs down his face with tired fingers only to stop when he realizes his hands suddenly smell like-
John sniffs his fingers before he raises up the pillow and stares a moment longer and then brings it to his nose while inhaling deeply.
"Oh god." he murmurs into the pillow as he recognizes the smell of familiarity, of his friend. Its near overwhelming because now it isn't just the smell of Sherlock, the man he works with….it's the smell of the person he was last intimate with, the last person he kissed and touched…..the person whom he now looks at while smiling faint smiles of affection and warmth.
"Huh-uh, not good, so not…..gawd so good." and John is suddenly leaning over, pressing his legs up and onto the bed while burying his face in the pillow and sighing rather contently because with this familiar pull comes comfort. The comfort he has been missing since he lost his wife, the woman he loved so deeply, despite her past, her mistakes, her beautiful flaws.
His chest radiates a burning warmth and he smiles ruefully at his own flaws, his own mistakes and how cruel he had been, could be, how tired and…..not okay he was.
Though, truth be told, John was not altogether sure if he was not okay with what happened between him and Sherlock, or the fact that he was alone with a growing daughter, or the fact that he had enjoyed it, all of it, the rush that was his life seemingly growing more addicting the more out of control and unpredictable it became.
Yet, Sherlock was always a constant, so where his friends and his daughter. The only constants in his life and John wondered if he decided to expand his experiences with Sherlock would he really care about anything else aside from his constants.
Definitely not. All that matters is them, anyone else can fuck right off.
He presses his face more firmly into the pillow and lays there spinning through his thoughts and feelings on what has become of him over the last few long years. Sometimes smiling, other times frowning, but overall a face of passive contentment.
A lone tear travels down from his eye at some point, the result of such mixed and confusing feelings. Not necessarily over Sherlock, John can admit at this point as he lays on his friends bed, smelling his pillow that it's because he wants to, he misses him, he...wants him to be here.
It doesn't bother him, and the discomfort at the thought it less intrusive, but….he is…..scared.
It's not like you to be scared, John. Just relax, I don't hold any expectations, I just want to help you understand what you might want-
It's not that easy Sherlock, but I think I….yeah….I like this….here with you….just touch me, do what you want…. Quickly now.
We have time, John. No need to rush.
Do we?
Eventually he reaches out a hand to slide the radio next to Sherlock's bed towards him, spying the red numbers that tell him it is nearly ten p.m.
John sighs and realizes he should leave soon, but he stays in this spot on Sherlock's bed and presses the clock back to its spot, his finger accidently hitting a button and suddenly the thing blares to life.
You're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you-
John stills his movements and stares at the clock with a rather disturbed bend in his brow, "Hell no-" he whispers and smacks the thing with his hand.
The night we met, I knew I needed you so, and if I had the chance, I'd never let you go-
"Bloody hell, Sherlock. What stations are these." and John sits up and goes to grab the thing when he hears a deep baritone ring out from the doorway, "Old ones."
John jumps, look at his friend as his fist slams down onto the clock and he stares in terror.
Why do birds suddenly appear every time you are near, just like me, they long to be close to you-
"The hell is wrong with this thing!" and John takes it up and rips the card out of the wall, "Jesus." he breathes heavily as he feels heat washing across his face and his eyes stare near traumatized at the radio in his hands.
"Vile. Just, wrong." John says tossing the thing back onto the night stand before he glances up at Sherlock from under his brow and stares.
"You're on my bed." Sherlock muses and John looks around him, "Oh! Right, yeah, just came in to...make sure you had….sheets and….that your light….worked."
"I do and it does." Sherlock says, those pale blue eyes watching him with near amusement though his face remains neutral.
"Right. Course they do, just, Mrs. Hudson took my...sheets….and the bulb was….out."
"Really?" Sherlock asks with a rather lackluster belief.
"Must be an imp." John says quickly in jest, he instantly moves forward, shimmying past Sherlock and out into the hall before he feels a hand on his wrist and he looks back in surprise.
"I thought you wanted to talk." Sherlock says softly in a rather curious tone and John is slowly pulled back and pressed between Sherlock and the doorway.
"Yeah, I do, I mean...I did….but...well-"
"Well?" Sherlock asks as he leans a little closer and John clears his throat and tries to look away, not wanting to get caught by those eyes. The eyes that have suddenly become much to compelling.
Yet, Sherlock raises a hand to his mouth and uses teeth to remove one of his gloves, the exposed hand coming to cup John's cheek and he shuts his eyes hard, swallowing and going still, "Look at me, John." Sherlock near whispers, the glove having been dropped to the floor.
John hesitates before opening his eyes and meeting Sherlock's gaze, his stress filled face melts and that damn smile slowly slips its way onto his face.
"Thought so." Sher murmurs before he leans in and gently presses their lips together.
John's mind goes blessedly blank and he inhales deeply through his nose to take in the man's smell, a mixture of London's night air, sweat, cigarettes and cologne.
It was a smell John knew all too well, though now it held a whole new meaning and reaction in his mind.
"Run a bit, didja?" John asked as his lips rubbed against Sherlock's and a very focused heat rolled in his belly and ran up his spine and into the base of his brain.
"A bit." Sherlock mused before his lips slid away from John's and came to kiss at John's throat, the shorter man giving a rather desperate and throaty sigh, his head sinking back to rest on the doorframe behind, "S-Sherlock, mmmm, Sherlock- wait, mate, wait-"
"What?" Sherlock asks against his throat in a rather lusty tone.
"We need to talk." John manages though as Sherlock's fingers are still pressing up the man's shirt and running over his stomach and hips John's hands instantly come up to grip the man's coat and gently try to press him back.
Sherlock stills, save for his lips which continue to brush across John's throat as he talks, "Does the aftermath of this talk include me no longer being able to touch you?"
"I d-don't think so….no….why?"
"Because I wasn't going to partake in any conversation-" and Sherlock's hands run around to John's back, pulling him closer, "that would prohibit me from being able to touch you."
John's eyes press shut before he moans, "Oh, hm, Sherlock, we should talk….before….."
"After, we should talk after." Sherlock coaxed, "I've been thinking of that look you gave me all day-"
"Distract you?" John asks as Sherlock sucks and licks at the place between his neck and shoulder.
"Mmm."
"Sorry."
"Needless to say, we can talk-"
"After, yeah, alright, just….go on, move into the room, shut the door…..and the bed…. Need the bed now." and soon the two are falling down onto Sherlock's sheets and becoming twisted in each others legs and arms, John pressing Sherlock's coat off as the brunette tugged at John's shirt and they hummed into each other's mouths.
"Wait, Sherlock, waitwaitwait-" John started and Sherlock pulled back to look at him and John said quickly, "No sex, not yet anyway, I need more time to-"
"You mean, sex is a possibility?" Sherlock asked in surprise and John stared at him a moment before he cleared his throat, "Uh, well, I mean, ahem, I just assumed you would want-"
"Yes." Sherlock said suddenly and John stared at him for another second before he turned his head to look at the ceiling and stare, "Right. Alright…..of course….just….gotta wrap my head around having sex with another man."
Sherlock leaned in and pressed his lips to John's ear, "Not another man, sex with me, it's different and you know it." he whispers darkly as he runs a hand up John's stomach.
John's brow furrowed and he sucked in a breath, "It is. Somehow, I don't mind it, not with you."
"Mmhmm, now, stop talking, I want to see that face again." And Sherlock's deep voice drew John to look at him and as the lay there next to each other, eyes locking and both in the safety of their home, John's mask slipped away and that soft affectionate smile rolled across his lips, eyes shining a little and Sherlock felt his lips part in surprise.
"My good Doctor, I don't believe anyone has ever look at me that way before."
"What way is that?" John asked as he continued to stare into Sherlock's eyes and marvel at how quickly his thoughts and feelings changed when Sherlock was touching him verse when he was by himself and left to his own devices.
"With love."
The smile fades from John's face but he leans in and murmurs against Sherlock's lips, the brunette giving the softest moan at the contact, "I like….I like when you deduce what I want. Tell me, Sherlock. What do I want?"
Sherlock stares a moment and then says softly, "You sure?"
"Yes. Tell me what I want."
Sherlock smiles ruefully against John's lips, "You want this, with me."
"Well then, best give it to me."
Their lips meet, hands explore and in these moments of private silence, their body mold and conform to each other, becoming nothing but what they both want which is each other.
So come here and never leave this place, Perfection of your face, Slows me down, Slows me down, So fall down I need you to trust me, Go easy, don't rush me, Help me out why don't you help me out-
John's hands reaches out and smacks the alarm clock, the neon red numbers reading seven in the morning.
"Ass." John mused sleepily as he realized Sherlock had plugged the infernal thing back in. He snuggles back down into a more comfortable position and his hand presses across the sheets only to feel an empty spot next to him.
His eyes open and look at the spot Sherlock should be, only to see noone and John slowly pushes himself up as he studies the vacant spot and tries to recall why the man would be up so early on a Sunday.
A noise comes from beyond Sherlock's door and John instantly reaches for his pants, yanking out his phone and sending a text.
What's going on? JW
He waits a moment and then quickly opens Sherlock's text when it comes in.
All clear, just me and young Rosemund, Molly came early and Hudders is out. Breakfast and coffee, if you are hungry. SH
John lets out a sigh and then a small smile before he stands and puts on his t-shirt and pajama pants, exiting the room quietly and moving down the hall to find Sherlock laid out across the couch, young Rosie resting on his chest and reaching a hand to play with the man's curls.
"Morning." John says as he stands there looking at the two, the perfect picture of morning calm. A soothing pulse goes through him and the warm affection spreads through his chest.
"Morning." Sherlock murmurs as he cracks an eye and glances over at him, "Coffee?"
"Yeah, I got it." John says as he walks over and picks up Sherlock's empty cup. He hesitates a moment before he brings a hand to Sherlock's forehead, pressing the main's hair out of the way and placing a soft kiss on his brow.
"Thank you." he offers softly and Sherlock looks up at him with an open yet soft expression before simply giving a hum in acknowledgment.
John looks to Rosie and smiles before he stands and moves to the kitchen, "It was that little treat I did with my fingers wasn't it?" Sherlock called after him.
"Shut up." John says tartly as he walks into the kitchen, his face growing warm and his head shaking.
Sherlock smiles after him before looking to Rosie, "Yes it was, your father enjoys fingers in his-"
"Not another word or so help me I will put this coffee mug in the same place!"
Sherlock just chuckles before taking Rosie in his arms and sitting up, holding her close and looking into those big beautiful eyes, "Let's hope….that you don't wait so long to explore your sexuality as daddy did, hm?"
"What are you saying to her?" John calls from the kitchen and Sherlock just smiles and shakes his head, those blue eyes finding John when the man returns with two cups of steaming coffee, John coming to sit next to them, placing the mugs on the coffee table and then taking his daughter from his partner.
They look at each other and finally, they both smile, satisfaction, comfort and contentment alight in both their eyes.