Anote: Apologises if you have gotten duplicate emails regarding this story. I think I finally have the hang of uploading chapters
Chapter 2- to be happy again
John blushed furiously when he realised that not only had he lost track of time, but that Sherlock had been gently holding him upright, while he swayed on his feet like a love sick teenager.
He was too mortified to even ask how long they had been standing there, in the dark.
'There is no need to be embarrassed,' the detective murmured as John tried to avoid his eyes, 'Does it help if I tell you that I am flattered that you find my physical transport so appealing?'
John shook his head, trying to pull away from the man's arms and scramble back to some sort of mental reality. Was Sherlock really offering to be his lover, just so that he would be happy again? Who in their right mind does that? This was insane. Besides which he wasn't gay, he was…dear God…now he understood why people said they are confused.
In the meantime, the detective scowled in displeasure as John pushed against his chest; silently asking to be released.
'Oh, I understand,' Sherlock hissed, 'You wish to go back to denying everything. Perhaps a demonstration is in order.'
The doctor stiffened in delighted horror, as the detective unexpectedly reached out and threaded his strong fingers through his hair; gently angling his head to the side, before pressing his lips firmly against his neck.
'Can you deny how this makes you feel?' Sherlock whispered fiercely along John's suddenly, super sensitive skin. 'Tell me that you don't like it. Tell me!'
John closed his eyes and fought not to groan out loud as the combination of Sherlock's frustrated anger and his touch, lanced through his body like a fiery whip; making his blood boil. He threw out his hands trying to maintain his balance, but of course the only thing left to hold on to in a world that was rapidly spinning out of control was Sherlock's coat.
'Don't,' John managed to strangle out, but if his flatmate heard him, he was ignoring it.
Instead, Sherlock slowly bent him over the side of the car while continuing his blistering assault along the column of his throat. The poor doctor couldn't help but whimper with pleasure as he gave himself over to the pure primal sensations of the man's kiss. However, when the detective decided to use his tongue to lick his neck in one long leisurely stroke, John flinched so badly that he accidentally knocked the man into a nearby hedge.
By the time the tall man extracted himself, with some muttered curses directed towards the thorny branches, the doctor had walked off and seated himself on the porch swing.
From across the driveway, Sherlock cautiously observed the doctor's defensive posture and with an anxious cough, he cleared his throat.
'Look, I could have tried to make that point in a different way,' the detective said in a low voice of apology, 'I just didn't want you to go back to pretending and denying what you feel. I hope you know…..I hope you know that I wasn't trying to force myself on you.'
John's relaxed his tense shoulders, so thrilled that Sherlock appeared to still be his friend despite this whole mess, that he felt as though he was floating, 'don't be ridiculous Sherlock. That last part never crossed my mind. The tongue bit just startled me, that's all.'
That, and the fact that I have a massive hard on, compliments on your exquisite kissing technique by the way.
'Good,' Sherlock replied in a relieved voice, 'Thank you. I came up here to Baskerville, just so that we could take a break from all the fighting. I couldn't sit there in the flat and watch you be so miserable. You following me out here, is our best chance to resolve to this situation. I would say it was fate, if I believed in such nonsense.'
John tucked his hands tightly around his body, hoping the other man wouldn't notice how they were shaking. He wanted to kiss Sherlock on the mouth so badly at this point; it would have been far easier to stop breathing.
Unaware of these lustful thoughts, the taller man ducked his head into the cab and wrestled his suitcases out of the car and up to the door of Henry's mansion, 'I am going to have a wash up.'
'I'll be out here. I could use a moment to myself,' John murmured breathlessly, glad for a little respite.
The detective opened his mouth as if to say something but changed his mind at the last second. John then looked on in surprise, as his flat mate stalked back to the car, opened the bonnet and removed the distributor cap, which he then slipped into his pocket.
'Don't give me that look,' Sherlock snapped, showing some of his characteristic fire that had been sadly diminished for the past few weeks, 'you know you were thinking it.'
John smiled faintly in amusement. Leaving before he did something really stupid had crossed the doctor's mind, but he had no idea how to hot wire a car, which Sherlock apparently suspected he was thinking of doing, the minute his back was turned.
Resembling his more familiar moody persona, Sherlock stalked through the door carrying his luggage, 'We faced down Chinese assassins, murdering cabbies, bomb wielding psychopaths, and the hound from hell together. This will be no different. Pull yourself together man!'
John sighed as the current man of his dreams vanished through the door, wishing he felt as confident as Sherlock sounded.
