Title: Protective and Possessive – Part 2 of 3

Author: ismira_daugene

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Romance/Drama

Word Count: 2,750

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Warnings: None

Prompt: From the Sherlock Kink Meme… Nobody's ever gotten really protective or possessive over John. He finds he enjoys it when someone does. (Bottom John)

It had been nearly a week since the flashback episode and John was really starting to worry about Sherlock. He'd been acting peculiar of late. For example, he'd made breakfast everyday for the past week (alright, it had been only tea and toast, but still). Something nearly unheard of! He didn't always eat with John, but there was always a plate of toast and a cup of tea waiting for him when John woke. John still had to do the growing pile of dishes in the sink. That bit certainly hadn't changed. However there were other things. Like when he'd tried to stretch up to get a teacup from the top shelf of the cupboard and suddenly Sherlock had been right behind him, pressed up against him, reaching for the cup and bringing it down for John. That event had left him breathless for a moment and frozen in a stretched out position until Sherlock had said his name and John had unfrozen, taken the proffered teacup, and gone about making tea, trying to keep his head from flying off at the memory of Sherlock pressed up against him. John shook his head a little at the memory. Sherlock was just trying to be nice. For what reason was yet to be determined.

"John! Are you coming?" Sherlock yelled up the stairs to 221B.

John let out a sigh and pulled his jacket on before walking down the stairs. Lestrade had called about ten minutes ago and asked if they could come in. Sherlock of course had said yes, not even bothering to check if John had anything going on. The fact that he didn't was beside the point. "Hang on, Sherlock," John called out as he locked the front door.

Sherlock was already on the curb, a taxi pulling up to him. John shook his head. He couldn't figure out how he did that. Every time John tried to hail a cab, it took several tries and a couple of choice words depending on the weather. Luckily, Sherlock had realized that John wasn't right behind him and held the door for John. The ride to New Scotland Yard was uneventful, unless you counted Sherlock trying to suppress the urge to tell the cabbie that his wife was sleeping with his son's piano instructor. John had firmly told him 'no, at least not until after we get out of the cab'. However Sherlock hadn't even told him then. Perhaps it was because they were finally at the yard and the new case had taken over his concentration.

"Ah, there you are!" Lestrade greeted them. He looked particularly relieved to see them. "I was starting to wonder…" he trailed off. "Doesn't matter. I asked you in because there's a witness being held here and we can't get her to say a word… about the case that is. She has plenty to say about… other things."

"What 'other things'?" Sherlock asked.

Lestrade rubbed the back of his neck and John noticed that his cheeks were a dull red. "You'll see in a mo. I've arranged for you both to speak with her. Perhaps you can gain some information that we couldn't."

Sherlock hitched one eyebrow up questioningly, but didn't say anything as Lestrade led them to the interrogation room. The dull grey door shone dimly in the florescent lighting. Lestrade reached forward and pulled it open, gesturing for them to enter. The woman sitting at the table was petite, blonde, had a fake tan, and wore a shade of lipstick that was unbelievably red. She wore a short (John gulped at how short) black dress that dipped down indecently to her navel. Stiletto heels tapped against the floor impatiently. Upon their entry, she turned her blue eyes on them and a lascivious smile crept over her painted lips. "Hello, boys," she greeted them.

Sherlock moved farther into the room, but did not sit at the table. John followed, but chose to take a seat. He always felt better about talking to someone when they were on the same eye level. "So, they sent you in to see me then?" she asked. "I suppose the others weren't quite man enough to get the job done." She smirked and John felt his ears heating up. This woman hadn't said anything particularly suggestive, but the way she said it brought to mind images of hot sweaty bodies moving against each other with an urgency that made John suck in a deep breath.

He tried to ignore his body's reactions as he opened the conversation. "Can I ask your name, Miss?"

"Christina," she said in a whisper. Her silky dress made a slithering sound as it shifted over her skin when she reached across the table to draw a manicured fingernail down John's jaw line. "You can call me Chris though, luv."

John was frozen in place as she retracted her arm back across the table. In fact, he was so frozen in place, he didn't hear the growl behind him, but he did feel it when Sherlock pulled him up from his chair roughly and tugged him behind Sherlock's long lean form. Christina chuckled. "Oh, I didn't know you… and he?" She continued to laugh. "That's alright, luvs. I've got a big bed. We can all fit."

With that, Sherlock pushed John out the door, making sure to keep himself between Christina and John at all times. Lestrade was waiting for them out in the hallway. His cheeks were an even brighter red and it was obvious he'd been listening in. "She didn't do it," Sherlock growled at the Inspector. "She's clearly a nymphomaniac and it wouldn't suite her purposes to kill your victim. As to if she witnessed anything, I highly doubt it. She was most likely either asleep or with her next victim. Now if you'll excuse us."

With that, Sherlock wrapped his long fingers firmly around John's wrist and dragged him down the hall completely oblivious to the stares and murmurs they were causing. "Sherlock," John tried getting his attention once he'd cleared his head a little. Sherlock didn't answer, unless you counted a tightening around John's wrist. John recognized the look on Sherlock's face as one of determination. It was that look he got when he was in the middle of an experiment or really deep thinking and no amount of shouting, yelling, or hollering could reach him.

John allowed Sherlock to pull him along the hall, out the door, and into a cab. He felt confident that he could have broken the hold at any time, but there was obviously something going on here that he didn't know about and right here and now was not the time to talk about it. He'd wait until 221B. The ride back to Baker St. wasn't quite as uneventful as the trip to the Yard, but then John was preoccupied with how tightly Sherlock's grip was on his wrist. At one point he shifted slightly and Sherlock loosened his grasp fractionally, just enough that it wasn't quite so painful.

When they arrived at Baker St., Sherlock still didn't release John. They slid awkwardly out of the cab and John paid the fare before allowing Sherlock to pull him in the door, up the stairs, and into 221B. The second the door was shut, John opened his mouth to ask Sherlock what the bloody hell was going on, but he had barely uttered a syllable when Sherlock whipped around and pressed his mouth hard against John's. John fell back against the closed door; Sherlock followed, relentlessly plundering John's mouth the entire time. A low groan was heard, and John wasn't sure if it was him or Sherlock. However the moan that followed when Sherlock cupped the back of John's head with his free hand was definitely John.

A second later, Sherlock pulled away gasping. John could feel himself panting as well. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but kind of wanted it to happen again. "Sherlock…" he started.

"I'm sorry, John," Sherlock blurted out and stepped away from John, finally releasing his wrist.

"For what?" John asked. As far as he could see, Sherlock had just snogged him senseless and they'd both quite enjoyed it.

"I – I know you don't… you prefer women. I shouldn't have done that." He turned and began pulling his coat off.

John stood flabbergasted, still leaning heavily against the door. His brain was having a difficult time jumping tracks. It wanted to stay on the 'Give me some more of that!' track, but he needed to switch to the 'Explanations are important' track. "Sherlock," he started again. "What makes you think that I'm heterosexual?"

Sherlock didn't turn to face him as he hung his coat and scarf. "It's obvious, John, you've only ever had female companions here. Unless you've been meeting other men outside of the flat, which I doubt."

John pushed himself off of the door and took a step towards Sherlock who still refused to look at him. "You're right, Sherlock. I have only been with women since I've lived with you, but we've lived together for what? Just over a year now? That constitutes less than five percent of my life." Sherlock finally turned to look at John. He studied the man intently for a moment. "Look at me, really look at me, Sherlock, and tell me what you see."

Sherlock did just that. He took a full minute, about fifty seconds more than usual, to study John and every scrap of detail he could gain off of him. "You're bi-sexual," he said hesitantly after a moment.

"Right in one, as usual," John smirked. "Which means –"

"Which means you wouldn't object too terribly if I did this," Sherlock interrupted and finished his sentence by pulling John against him and slanting his mouth back over John's. Sherlock's hand once more came up to cup the back of John's head and he pressed his body close against the former army doctor. John murmured something unintelligible and wrapped his arms around Sherlock's lean torso. He was fairly sure that if the door weren't at his back once more that he'd have a difficult time staying upright.

After an indeterminate amount of time in which Sherlock snogged John until he couldn't remember his own name, they pulled away breathing heavily. John stood still in Sherlock's arms, supporting the detective as much as the door was helping him. Sherlock tugged at him then, pulling him away from the door and towards the sofa in the living area. They collapsed onto it, Sherlock pulling John onto his lap as he stretched out his legs along the length of the sofa. It took a bit of negotiating, but John finally found a comfortable position leaning against Sherlock's chest and the back of the sofa, Sherlock's arms wrapped around him. It felt… right. No one had ever held him so gently, so carefully as Sherlock did. He'd had his fair share of relationships, but John had always been the one to give comfort. This… whatever this was, he liked it… he liked it a lot and would do most anything for it to continue.

However that line of thought brought to mind questions, things that he had to know. He shifted slightly against Sherlock, tipping his head up to look at his flatmate who was staring down at him. "So what brought this on?" he asked.

Sherlock, who never showed emotion; Sherlock, who thought that caring was not an advantage; Sherlock, who was so pale and never gave outward sign of what he was thinking unless he wanted to, blushed a deep rose colour. John's eyebrows rose in surprise, but he waited for Sherlock to speak. "It was the last time you had a flashback," he mumbled, his baritone rumbling beneath John's ear pressed against Sherlock's chest. "I didn't want you to wake up alone and frightened, so I made tea and waited for you to wake." He paused for a moment. "After you kicked me out, I spent the rest of the night deducing my feelings for you and decided to conduct an experiment."

John pulled away slightly, a frown on his face. "Sherlock, you had better tell me that this isn't one of your experiments that you'll forget about a week later."

A perplexed look crossed Sherlock's face. It was the look that John had come to recognize as when Sherlock couldn't believe that they weren't on the same mental train. "John," he said in a serious tone. "I would never… my experiment ended approximately sixty minutes ago in the Yard."

John's face took on a confused look. "With that woman in the interrogation room? I was going to ask what happened with you in there?"

Once more, Sherlock's high cheekbones took on a rosy colour and he took a second to compose himself before answering. "It was how she was speaking to you. Something… I couldn't stand the way she spoke to you and the implications she was making. I am sorry if I caused you any harm," he said gently grasping John's wrist, and turned it to see that a bruise was starting to form. He raised John's wrist to his cupid bow lips and gently kissed the inside.

A shudder ran through John and Sherlock smirked at the reaction. He pressed his lips against John's wrist again, this time using his tongue to lightly lick at the bruises forming there. "Sherlock," John gasped out. He didn't know why this was so arousing, but it was and if Sherlock kept it up, he was going to have a problem.

Sherlock shifted and pulled John tighter against him, effectively caging him with his arms while his kisses shifted from John's wrist to his neck. In between kisses he was murmuring something in a deep rich voice, but John was far too preoccupied to listen. He shuddered as Sherlock bit down lightly on a particularly tender spot on John's neck and sucked at the flesh. "Oh – Oh God, Sherlock," John cried out. Sherlock stopped and instead nuzzled against what John was sure to be a fantastic love bite. Both were breathing heavily, John more so than Sherlock. "We… We need to slow down, Sherlock," John breathed out against his flatmate's chest.

"But I was just getting started, John," Sherlock whispered into John's ear.

Another chill shuddered its way through John's frame. God! That voice! he thought to himself. He was starting to wonder if he could get an erection just from Sherlock's voice when he felt a hand snaking its way down his torso towards his waist. "Sherlock!" he cried out in a higher pitched voice than normal. "Really, we need to take this slower."

Sherlock's hand stopped and he turned his face towards Johns, a full out pout on those beautiful cherubic features. "Why?" he asked petulantly as though he'd been denied something he really wanted.

"Because we need to make sure this isn't just some fling. If we're going to be together, Sherlock, then I want it to last."

"John," Sherlock said, his tone serious once more. "While I respect your desire to proceed at a slower pace, I wish to dispel this ridiculous notion that I would forget about you as soon as we've been intimate." John felt his ears turn a flaming shade of red, though he wasn't sure if it was because Sherlock had mentioned being intimate with him or if it was because that's exactly what he thought would happen. "This isn't exactly my area," Sherlock continued. "However I believe I know enough about relationships to know that there needs to be a certain amount of trust between the participants. Do you trust me, John?"

Without an ounce of hesitation, John answered, "Yes."

Sherlock smiled down at him. "Then believe me when I say that I would not run."

John nuzzled his way back under Sherlock's chin against his neck. "I trust you, Sherlock. I really do, but I'd still like to take this slowly."

"I could be persuaded to be amenable to that," Sherlock replied kissing the top of John's head.

It was shortly thereafter that they both fell asleep and were blissfully unaware when Mrs. Hudson entered the flat only to find them asleep and cuddled in each other's arms. She didn't say a word, but she did snap a photo on her mobile phone before quietly leaving again. Wait until Mrs. Turner next door saw this.

o O o O o O o

A/N: So for my one extra day this year (that's right, it's leap day people!) I'm uploading Johnlock fluff! lol... I hope you guys enjoy it! There's still one more part to come! (*facepalm* wow... no pun intended for that last bit.)