The front door of 221B Baker Street slammed shut and the two moderately intoxicated men shambolically clambered through the door, one distracted step at a time. The smell of alcohol was much more poignant in the close confines of the hallway and the dull buzz of late night traffic zoomed by the window, casting shadows and lights up the jagged staircase.
Their bodies slammed against the door as Greg ferociously devoured John's mouth, taking hold of his lips between his teeth and nipping at the reddened skin. John threaded his fingers through the short silver hair of the other man and massaged small circles with his fingertips, eliciting a small, barely audible moan from him. They parted lips and Greg sloppily kissed his way over to John's ear and licked up the length of the rim before delving his tongue into the shell over and over.
"Ooooooh God." John whimpered into the empty air, his eyes fluttering. He shifted his stance against the wall, readjusting to accommodate the growing bulge in his pants that was getting tighter and tighter with every caress off the taller man's wandering hands.
"We need to get upstairs, don't want Mrs Hudson to catch us. She already thinks I'm banging Sherlock." John joked, gently pushing Greg from his chest.
"Well isn't that a wonderful image for her to have. I might just use that image myself. Oh, the things you would do to each other, dirty dirty John." Greg smirked devilishly and took one quick hard kiss from John's lips.
John's heart leaped and his semi-hardness went entirely rigid in his jeans in the darkness of the hall. John grabbed Greg's hand and began to drag his slightly wavering body up the staircase.
Less than half way up the staircase, Greg stilled and his hand dropped from John's. He gasped inaudibly as the strained pale beams of white light fell across John Watson's face as a flurry of cars passed by the window below. The taxi headlamp's rays sculpted the older man's face into pale peaks and furrows of darkness, carving out the delicate creases around his eyes and forehead, adding for just a moment mystery and ferocity to the usual tenderness of his features.
Greg felt his chest tighten at the image before him. The older man now seemed taller than he had ever imagined before. John's chest was heaving deeply and his arms stretched between both walls of the stairwell, supporting his drunken unsteadiness. His arms were thick and firm with the fading strength of an ex-military commander and they bulged beneath his very tight maroon shirt. John had transformed into something beautiful and awe-some and Greg very quickly batted away the weak tears that had peaked on his lids.
John Watson stared back at the younger man following close behind him, their feet colliding as he tried to guide himself towards the flat. He came to a stop when the sound of steps ceased form behind him.
He turned around and was blinded by the lights of passing cars streaming through the glass-panelled door. John had never seen Greg look so… so… serene?
John blinked, his eyes not synchronized with one another, and stared at the man below him.
"Is, is everything ok?" John leaned down to Greg and brushed his lips to the hot skin of the younger man's forehead that was now slightly moist from the entanglement a few minutes before.
Greg broke the gaze and settled his eyes on John's lips, "Perfect, John. Everything's… perfect." And once again the men crashed into each other's mouths, their lips intertwined and fitting between one another, like perfectly fitting jigsaw pieces.
They broke away and John started to climb the stairs again. He turned and saw that once again Greg hadn't moved. John grinned and the gleam of his teeth sparkled in the darkness. "You coming up or what, bad boy?" he said, breaking the sobering mood of delicate intimacy.
Greg chuckled and the sensuality returned ten-fold. He could feel saliva pool in the space beneath his tongue and teeth and he gulped down quickly at the thoughts of the man before him in very compromising positions.
Greg climbed up another step urging the smaller man up the stairs and into the flat.
"Mmmmmmmh," Greg moaned in response, grabbing a tight hold of John's thighs, "God, you are just too good for me, boy" just before returning to attack the small bruising spot along the smooth length of John's neck.
The men's feet knocked each step as they climbed the stairs, nearly tumbling several times, but managing to remain upright and they pushed their way through the door. The heat of the room hit them first and Greg dropped the bag of food to the floor, never breaking contact. Rather, Greg twisted John's smaller frame around and pinned him to the back of the door they had just entered.
Both men moaned into each other's mouths and John gasped breathlessly as Greg slipped the open palm of his hand down the front of John's body and gently, but firmly cupped his clothed erection. Greg smirked into John's lips as he began to rub short lengths up and down the concealed member.
"Awwwwwwgh" A high pitched breathless pant escaped John's mouth. He reached down and dug his nails into the flesh of Greg's lower back, causing the younger man to blow hot air out from his lips onto the side of John's neck.
"God, I don't know how long I can last, John. You are just too damn sexy for me." Greg gasped, nearly out of breath.
"Oh the contrary, John it would seem is the adequate amount of 'sexy' for your taste, Detective Inspector."
The men at the door jolted upright, spreading themselves instinctively away from each other at the interjection of the familiar voice.
"Sherlock, for Christ's sake, what are you doing here?" John felt his face filling with heat as the last of the effects of the alcohol wore off.
"Apart from the fact you are well aware of that I live here and I am entitled to be wherever I so please to be, right now I am performing a social experiment, dear Watson." Sherlock made that particular word stand out from the sentence and watched Greg with eagle eyes, burrowing holes into the silver-haired man.
With Sherlock's penetrative gaze on his face, Greg began to pace back and forth between his lovers chair and the man himself. With each step that brought him closer to John, Greg caught his hands behind his back, physically restraining himself from entwining his arms around the shorter man's shoulders.
"What do you think you're playing at, Sherlock, hanging around like a pervert waiting for us to come home?" Greg finally spoke, now only inches from his date and his open hand. Greg tried so hard to resist the temptation to swiftly lace his fingers into John's.
"Proving a point, it would seem." He smirked again.
"And what point might that be, eh?" Greg replied as John cupped his face in his hands beside him.
"No, no Sherlock, not tonight!" John suddenly interjected.
"What, what is it?" Greg turned to John inquisitively.
Sherlock curled his lips behind his hands.
"He's going to deduce us." The words hadn't left John's mouth before Sherlock began his monologue.
"Greg, when you text John about tonight you were confident in the fact that he would respond positively to your innuendos, knowing right well that John is most certainly not the romanticized heterosexual he so lets on to be. However you have just been released from a long term marriage, to a woman no doubt, and you were naturally nervous about the prospects of engaging in sexual relations with another man. As is customary with heterosexual relationships, as ye are both used to, you presumed pints and a bit of doorstep snogging would be the full extent of tonight. But John called your bluff. As assured of yourself as you may be you had not planned tonight to end like this. You have no condoms nor lubricant on your person and it would be common for a man on a date to see that if it really was to happen tonight, that you had presumed, as most do people do, that myself and John had, at some stage, been engaged in sexual affairs in the past and thus presumed that, if you were to be so lucky, that John would have the tools required for a night of feverish sexual activities. Despite what you think about John's sexual history, he has never had sex with a man before.
But something is different about this situation. It's not about getting your leg over, you would have hauled John into the bathroom if you just wanted to unload yourself but no, you are here, before me now. This is different and therefore more personal than I thought initially. You like John, a lot, and your feelings have escalated very quickly and keep getting stronger and stronger the more time you spend around our dear John.
You do like John and you do want to have sex with him, but not tonight, not like this. You respect him too much to just fuck him on the first date. You were testing to see how far John would let you go just before I interrupted you a moment ago and to your surprise John is very much attached to you in the same way. This is obvious because he is an ex-army commander and a doctor, well used to seeing death and ruin and not a heart you can just toy with before throwing away. John trusts you, very much, otherwise you would not have gotten so far there now. That is why I decided to experiment.
The final and most crucial piece of evidence is when I call John dear. You were visibly agitated by the idea of myself and John being intimate by pacing back and forth, even though you know he and I have never been intimate. Thus finally concluding the extent to which you care for and admire Captain John Watsons of the 5th Northumberland fusiliers."
Silence.
The room buzzed with tangible silence.
Greg was white, like a ghost, a shell of a man. John's mouth was gaping open and his eyes wide.
"I-" Greg started, "-better go."
He made his way towards the door not making eye contact with either man.
John grabbed Greg's arm and pulled him in to his chest. The stared at each other, their dejection very apparent on both of their faces. But John wouldn't give in to this, not for Sherlock, not for anyone, and he pulled Greg into a deep heart-warming kiss. They parted and smiled weakly.
"Call me tomorrow" John whispered into Greg's ear.
Greg nodded his response and left the room.
Silence fell once more.
Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but one look from the ex-soldier screwed his lips shut.
His eyes were full of loathing, like Sherlock was the most horrid, most repulsive person he had ever laid eyes on.
And with that John walked wordlessly from the room and down to his own bedroom, leaving Sherlock in the silence of his own disgrace.