When Sherlock was showered, he faced a dilemma, what do ordinary people do to ensure 'the event' went well? Never before had he worried about something so dully trivial. The difference now was that he cared. He wanted John to enjoy himself, he wanted it to all go smoothly, and he wanted John to be happy with him.

Sherlock sighed at the thought of his brother seeing him like this; he would laugh, and then probably educate him in the ways of the Human Condition – most assuredly telling him that feelings were the start of downfall.

Sherlock looked at the soiled clothes in a sorry heap on the floor and glanced up at his blue dressing gown on the back of the door, finally he looked to the bathroom mirror; surveying his unusual appearance. He walked towards the sink and fetched his razor; he should ensure himself stubble free at least. Once the task was done; not usually a daily task for the tall detective, he allowed himself to look at the selection of products John kept on the windowsill, deodorants, aftershave, hair product and talcum powder. Sherlock sniggered, how could the ex-army doctor not have realised his own orientation before now?

Sherlock used the deodorant and added a dab of cologne. He paused to smell his new aroma, he smelt of John. He took the moment to carry out a brief experiment and reached up to the cupboard above the sink, extracting his own cologne; adding a sandal wood flavour to his current hint of 'John musk'. He paused once more; this is what they both smelled like, together.

He combed his hair and wrapped himself tightly in his silky dressing gown before opening the bathroom door and heading nervously towards the living room.

John sat on the couch watching the telly with the food nicely laid out on the coffee table. Sherlock suddenly felt very underdressed.

"Ah, come on, foods getting cold. I got your usual, hope that's ok" John said as he spied an awkward Sherlock in the doorway.

Sherlock nodded curtly and sat beside John, careful to leave a gap between them, he carefully reached for the take away box and began to eat as directed.

"You're wearing my cologne…and yours" John stated with a small smile.

Sherlock felt the heat rise on his cheeks as he stared into his food carton.

"It smells nice" John said quietly with a wider smile as he watched his flatmate eat silently.

Sherlock tentatively looked up at John to see his kind smile and replied with a small one of his own.

They continued to watch the television, neither actually taking in the information on the large flat screen facing them. When all the food had gone, the pair sat in comfortable silence, just enjoying the proximity and the warmth of each other before John moved slightly up the couch towards Sherlock. The eagle eyed detective surveyed John at a sideways angle and smiled smugly when he felt John's arm wrap around his shoulder. It was slightly awkward, the height difference between them becoming an obvious issue. Sherlock continued to watch the television stiffly and surveyed an advert for a sofa sale wearily; the woman was lying across the rather mundane sofa with her head resting in her partner's lap. That looked comfortable. Sherlock began to slide down and tentatively rested his head on John's warm leg, the jeans were soft beneath his skin, and as he brought his hand up to assist his head upon John's thigh; John had let his hand fall onto Sherlock's hip, feeling the soft silk under his warm hand. The doctor smiled; he recognised Sherlock's complete un-education of the situation and knew he had to take things very slowly. The last thing he wanted to do was scare the detective off now.

They stayed, rested in this position until John's leg began to feel numb.

John smiled; this must have been the longest he had ever seen Sherlock consciously still, it was nice, he felt a strange sense of honour at being the cause.

"Sherlock, are you tired?" John asked tentatively.

Sherlock sat up and faced John with a deductive stare; "If you are asking if I feel tired because you think I may be fatigued after the case, the answer is no. If you are asking if I feel tired because you want to move to my bedroom, yes." He rolled off, not moving his gaze from John's face.

John laughed; "This is going to be one hell of a strange night" he said looking up at his partner. "Come on then, no subtlety with you, eh?" he asked rhetorically.

"I would prefer you were plain spoken, John" Sherlock said blankly, looking down at John with an 'I don't understand' expression. John smiled appreciatively and stood from the couch, switching off the television and walking slowly toward Sherlock's room, the taller man caught the hint and swiftly bounded after him.

Sherlock closed the door behind him with a slight click, he observed John as he stood beside the bed; he had already discarded his cream coloured jumper and was holding himself in more of a Military way than the detective had ever seen.

Sherlock slowly made his way to the shorter man, his face straight, his eyes wanting. John gazed back into the husky-like blue eyes, transfixed by the sharpness of his features and the height of his stance approaching him with intent in the dark bedroom.

John leaned up and in to Sherlock, who was standing less than a foot away now, John paused; hovering over the pale lips of his companion;

"Sherlock, close your eyes" John whispered, his voice surprisingly raspy and sending a shiver down the taller man's spine, he did as he was told and was instantly focussing on his other senses; feeling the hot breath on his face, feeling weak in his lower legs, the slight draft from underneath his bedroom door across his feet.

John leaned closer, his lips just touching Sherlock's; "Move your lips with mine, don't be afraid, I'm here, and I'm staying here" John whispered against them.

Sherlock felt limp, he felt a fire erupt in his lower abdomen and he could think of no medical condition that could have started it.

John's fingers wrapped themselves into his hair as he guided Sherlock closer and gently pressed his lips to the pale pink pair that were, unusually, closed and awaiting attention.

Sherlock opened his mouth tentatively when John moved against him, soft and chaste, warm and moist. It was the best feeling he had ever had, and it didn't take long for it to grab hold and become addictive. Sherlock kissed John ferociously, a true proficient; he learned and executed the new activity with precision, rendering John weak-kneed.

John dropped his hands from the black curls atop Sherlock's head and blindly loosened the ribbon on the metallic blue dressing gown, letting it fall open. Sherlock was too distracted to notice his apparent nakedness until John's warm hands found skin that Sherlock had never allowed another person to touch. Sherlock halted the kiss at the feeling, standing determinedly, trying not to run away.

"Sorry, is this ok?" John asked, looking carefully up at Sherlock's closed eyes.

Sherlock nodded affirmatively, his breath heavy and his eyebrows furrowed. John hesitantly rested his hands on Sherlock's hips, taking in the view of his melamine skin and his surprisingly well built muscles.

Sherlock mimicked John and blindly placed his own hands on John's waist, his eyes remaining closed, his face expressing his concentration. John smiled and kissed Sherlock again, smoothing his hands over untouched skin, feeling the muscles ripple under his touch, standing closer to Sherlock than any other Human ever had.

Sherlock had the sudden desire to feel John's skin, he knew John's shirts by expert sight, and the buttons were dealt with efficiently.

Sherlock and John simultaneously gasped as Sherlock's long fingers danced over the shorter man's chest, mingling with the dusting of hair he found at the top, finally travelling his sides to span his back and hold his shoulder blades, pulling the doctor to his own chest.

Sherlock felt unusually warm and he could feel his palms were sweaty as he held the soldier; neither seemed to mind though as hands still travelled and lips still battled.

Eventually, John broke the kiss;

"Sherlock" John said in a husky voice Sherlock had never experienced from his flatmate before. "You ok?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded, nuzzling his nose blindly into John's, resting forehead against forehead.

"Do you want to lie down?" John asked tentatively, nuzzling his colleague back.

Sherlock didn't need to answer as he twirled them lightly and gently manoeuvred John to the mattress, quickly following blindly, only an inch away from John's face guiding himself by John's breath ghosting across his chin.

"Open your eyes look at me" John ordered gently. Sherlock did as he was told, looking down at John from where he had been on his hands and knees poised over the good doctor. John gasped, taking in Sherlock's black eyes and swollen mouth, he leaned up and over, turning them on the bed. Sherlock lay on his back and looked helplessly up at his new mate.

John quickly stood and removed the remainder of his clothes, returning to Sherlock, holding back the gasp as skin met skin. Sherlock sighed contentedly as John settled his body weight on top of him before resuming their kiss.

John was very aware of Sherlock's arousal and was avoiding touching it just yet, he did not want to overwhelm the detective. However, he did not take into account his own arousal and without warning; the two touched, sending shivers through every nerve in both bodies.

"J-John, do that again" Sherlock pleaded, wanting the feeling to last – wanting to study it.

John did as he was told, nudging his hips into the younger man's, they both moaned simultaneously before John decided to repeat the motion over and over.

The two were grinding on one another, their eyes open and focussed only on each others.

All too quickly John felt the crescendo building, an unstoppable force pushing him to his limit, Sherlock being tugged along with him evidentially as the man beneath him began to wriggle and writhe uncontrollably.

"John, John, what is happening? I feel strange" Sherlock said, his voice panicky and small as he clung to John, allowing himself to be rocked back and forth repeatedly.

John knew just how to talk to him; "Its physical release Sherlock, trust me, I'm here, I'll get us through it ok? All you have to do is relax and let go."

At John's words and sealing kiss, Sherlock's back arched and his eyes rolled, every nerve in his body filled with fire, he saw bright colours flash before his eyes and felt a hot wet sticky substance land on his chest. He let his mouth part as he breathed heavily, enjoying this almost 'out of body' experience that followed, a thought crossed his blank mind and he lifted his head with a sense of urgency;

"J-john, did you...?" Sherlock asked, his breath escaping him as he felt his head fall back into the pillow.

"Shh, yes, I did" John shushed the taller man, resting his forehead against the pillow beside his companions' head.

The pair did not move for several minutes until John felt the stickiness between them really couldn't wait, he awkwardly untangled himself from the detective, dropping a kiss to his forehead as he did. He grabbed Sherlock's dressing gown from the floor and went into the bathroom. Sherlock instantly hated the absence of his partner. He felt cold, his own and John's release congealing against his quickly cooling skin.

Then he felt a soft warm and wet cotton material rubbing at his stomach, he opened his eyes to see his doctor cleaning him up with a kind smile across his face. John swapped the wet flannel for a dry towel and dried off Sherlock's clean skin. He dropped both to the floor and fetched the duvet from the bottom of the bed. He pulled it up and over Sherlock before clambering in beside the detective, throwing the dressing gown back to its place on the floorboards.

Sherlock slowly entangled himself with the shorter man, wrapping himself around John, resting his head on John's chest, listening to his steady heart beat.

John smiled and brought an arm lazily around his detective.

"So, did that go as well as it could have?" John asked the silence.

Sherlock did not answer straight away; he simply turned his head on John's chest, looking up at him.

"Could it have been better?" He asked eventually, furrowing his brow.

John laughed; "Well, for me, no, and I suppose you don't know yet." He mused "Guess what I was trying to ask is; is it something you would repeat?"

Sherlock blinked and stared up at the ex-soldier; "Of course" he stated firmly.

John's arm tightened briefly around his new partner, sighing contentedly.

"John." Sherlock started "I will be unbearable, you know that I already am, but this won't change anything. I will still be 'impossible' as you say." He said with a hint of worry in his voice.

John smiled; "I know." He looked down at Sherlock pointedly, touching his long nose with a finger and saying; "And I wouldn't change you for the world."

Sherlock smiled widely and lifted himself, moving over to John's neck, nuzzling it gently.

After a few more minutes, Sherlock suddenly raised himself on an arm again to look closely into John's eyes;

"You must understand, John, that I will not appear like this outside of this flat, either." Sherlock said plainly.

John smiled again; "I knew that too" he said calmly. "And this is enough for me."

Sherlock smiled again before resting himself on John's shoulder once more.

"Thank you, John" Sherlock said quietly into the skin of John's neck.

John's smile extended into a stupefied grin as he wrapped both arms around his consulting genius and let himself drift off into a dreamless sleep.

0000000000000000

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

~ Jess