It was 6:00 am on a Saturday. The morning sun was leaking threw the small window above the desk and gently landing on Jon's face. Sherlock hadn't slept all night. In just a few hours he was going to get to see John in barely anything, swimming. He knew he shouldn't go, but John had insisted. The idea of seeing so much more than he ever had of John was fantasy. Just a tiny little speedo. In a cold swimming pool. Sherlock couldn't even remember all the fantasies he had… exercised.
"Morning John." Sherlock said, seeing John had woken up.
"Morning Sher-" John started to yawn. "Sherlock. Have you taken a shower yet?"
"No. But you can go ahead. I put some towels in." Sherlock set down the book he was reading, The Ethics of Forensics, and picked up a new book, He's Lying: A Book on How To Read Body Language.
"Great. Thanks." John headed into the bathroom.
A second after John closed the door Sherlock jumped up and went over to John's side of the room.
"There's got to be something." He muttered to himself.
He heard the shower start and he started to lift up John's mattress. There was nothing underneath.
"Shit." He whispered. Sherlock paused for a second. "The desk!"
He ran over to it and opened the three drawers closest to John's bed. He pulled out a string of six condoms and a unused bottle of lube.
"Bingo." He smiled. Proof he could score with John Watson.
The shower stopped. He rushed back around the room cleaning it up as he went and landed back on his bed, book in hand as John emerged. In just a towel.
He stole a glance at Sherlock as he went over to his closet to get his clothes. Sherlock showed no evidence of ever looking John's way, though his slowly growing erection might disagree. John diapered back into the steamy bathroom and Sherlock exhaled.
It was 9:00 am and Sherlock and about twenty parents and kids were sitting on the side of the Tavyard School's 8ft deep swimming pool. The home team wasn't yet out, but the opposing team, about fifteen six foot tall guys were chuckling about something pointless.
"Everyone, to your marks!" The coach said after leading the swim team out from the locker rooms.
Sherlock couldn't help but gasp, John was amazing. Or rather his apparent lack of clothing.
"Your boyfriend is on the team, eh?" A elderly lady next to Sherlock said with a chuckle.
Sherlock scowled at her and shifted his gaze back to John. John, unlike the rest of the boys, didn't put on a swim cap. When he lined up at the edge of the pool, ready to race to the other end, he was standing with one leg elevated a tiny bit higher than his other, causing his cock to bulge, something Sherlock couldn't have missed if he were straight.
"On your marks!" The coach readied his pistol. "Set; Go!"
The Tavyard Swimming team took off, at least half a foot ahead of the posing team. It only took a little time, but Tavyard won. Sherlock saw John getting out of the pool. He saw a very wet, clingy swim suit lightly scraping on the side of the pool as John got out and the holder of the prize running past Sherlock and towards the lockers, with several angry complaints from both coaches about running by the pool. He just smiled and went faster.
Sherlock couldn't handle this anymore. He couldn't handle the ever growing pain eradicating from his crotch and he couldn't stand the old lady next to him chuckling every few seconds, so he got up, making sure to pass the old lady with his crotch forward to annoy her, and quickly retreated to his room.
John looked around, but his friend was no where. He thought that Sherlock would have at least stayed until John was finished. He started to think over all the reasons why Sherlock had left, the real one never crossing his mind.
"Ready Watson?" One of his team mates asked.
"Shut up fag."
"I never told you. I'm gay." John whispered to Sherlock in the darkened swimming pool.
"I know." Sherlock said. "I wanted to see how long it took you to spill."
Sherlock's lips were only a few centimetres from John's, their heavy breathing seeming to be the only sound in the entire pool.
"Kiss me." John breathed.
Sherlock pressed his lips roughly against John's, Sherlock put on hand behind John's head, running it through his hair, and the other under John's shirt, massaging his muscles.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted this." Sherlock said, grinning.
"Well you can have it." John pushed Sherlock down onto his back, and started to take off his own clothes. Sherlock mirrored him, the two naked in front of each other in a matter of seconds. John started to kiss down Sherlock's pale stomach.
"John!" Sherlock came. His hand and stomach were coated in his own come, his sheets were saved. "Jesus. I need to stop this."
He got up and stripped his clothes, started the shower and locked the bathroom door.
"This has really got to stop." He muttered to himself.