Hey y'all! This update is twice as long as they normally are because thar be sex ahead! It's Sherlock/John smut, toward the end there, so be-ye-warned. If you don't want to read that, you can read until it starts to go that way and then skip ahead to the end if you like. I won't be offended any. :P

Also, I'm now taking requests for any pairing in the Sherlock BBC fandom (except for John/Sherlock, due to there being a surplus of that around already) at my tumblr INDEFINITELY. They're always open so please, go on over, drop a request in my askbox or through fanmail. I'm Gingertiss.

Now! On to fic!

The Visage of War

Chapter Four

Truth is stranger, and far more painful than fiction.

We the jury find James Moriarty not guilty. And so he walked. Of course he did. John hadn't expected any different, and neither had Sherlock. It wasn't of any surprise or significance really. John tried to remain stoic during the trial, even as Jim made a face at him. When it was all over and Sherlock was released after being held in contempt, Mycroft appeared outside the courthouse to pick them up. Sherlock had been, for the first time, quick to get into his brother's car. Anything to escape the rush of media persons. John, however, needed some air, and opted to walk.

"Don't be ridiculous John. That's far too long of a walk." Sherlock hissed as the door swung open for them, Mycroft waiting inside. John shook his head.

"Then I'll walk 'til I'm tired, and catch a cab from there." John replied coolly. Sherlock looked like he might protest but Mycroft cleared his throat.

"It's fine, Sherlock. I'll have my people watching him the whole way. Besides. You and I need to discuss some things..." Mycroft cut in, receiving a snort of contempt from Sherlock. With some light coaxing, Sherlock let John be and John escaped the flurry of reporters by diving down an alley near by and cutting across to a different street. He walked for twenty minutes before he stopped and hailed himself a cab for the rest of the journey back to Baker Street. When he arrived, Sherlock wasn't about. John sighed and nodded, assuming he was still with Mycroft, and probably would be for a good deal of time.

John went up to his bedroom, feeling weary and beat down. After weeks of anticipation and tension in the flat over this trial, John was exhausted. And even though it was over, he hardly felt any better. He stripped out of his clothes, wanting to go back to bed and never wake up. He wanted so badly to simply fall into a deep sleep and be dead to the world. In pants and undershirt, he crawled into the sheets and under the duvet, closing his eyes and whimpering a little. His shoulder twinged and his leg gave an uneasy jerk. Stress was definitely getting to him. But nearly as soon as his head had hit his pillow, John was falling asleep. He was so deep under he didn't hear his old phone chime, alerting him of a text.

Put the kettle on, Johnny. I'm coming over. xo -J

John didn't move, didn't budge, just snored lightly in his bed. He was dreaming...

John's lips pulled into a devious smile and he gave Jim a playful shove, only to have Jim shove him back twice as hard. In seconds they were tousling about the living room of their home, playfully rough-housing. Their rough housing turning to kissing, their shoving turning to groping.

"Jim..." John gasped softly as Jim's teeth worried the flesh of his collar. "Jim... Don't tease..."

Jim's fingers were running lightly over the front of John's jeans. John looked down at the dark haired head of his lover and groaned a little as the gentle touch turned into a rough grab through his trousers. Jim looked up, his dark eyes sparkling with devious intent.

"You're gonna have to beg me, Johnny..."

Johnny...

Johnny...?

John groaned a little, feeling fingers gentle carding through his hair and down over the back of his neck.

"Sh...Sherlock...?" John grumbled softly. The fingers in his hair stilled and then tugged lightly.

"Nope. Guess again." came a lilting, but quiet, Irish tone. John's eyes snapped open and he looked up to see Jim sitting on the edge of his bed, gazing down at him. Jim looked immaculate in his perfect designer suit, such a contrast to how he'd looked the last time he'd seen Jim face to face. John slowly pushed himself up into a sitting position and glared at Jim.

"Get. Out." John ground out through his still slightly sleepy haze. Jim shook his head, caressing John's cheek and leaning in to kiss him. John turned his head and Jim's lips landed on his jaw instead. John felt Jim's soft lips curl into a smile against him and hot breath puffed across his skin as Jim laughed quietly.

"So touchy..." Jim commented, his hand slipping down John's neck to rest against his chest.

"I don't want you here. Sherlock could come back at any time and I cannot account for what he might do to you should he find you here." John replied harshly.

"Nothing." Jim replied sharply, kissing John's neck lightly before pulling away to look him in the eyes. "Sherlock could walk in on you with your ankles behind your head for me and he'd do nothing because to do anything so pedestrian... Would just be blaaaaaaaand... Boring... He wants to play along quite bad. So... Relaaaaaaaax Johnny... Let me... Get reacquainted."

Jim pushed John back down against the sheets, and was startled by his own compliance. He grimaced as what Moriarty said sank in. It was probably true, and that made John's stomach twist uncomfortably. Jim was pushing John over a bit on the bed and kicking off his shoes to slip into the sheets beside him. John shuddered in slightly repulsion as Jim snuggled up against him and laid his head on John's chest. His arm was around John's waist, holding him close. It all felt so familiar, so strangely warm and comfortable. John felt like he was betraying everything his instincts told him to do and everything he and Sherlock had together with such a simple act as letting Jim cuddle him. Jim inhaled deeply through his nose and let out a little sigh.

"Oh how I missed you, John darling." Jim whispered softly, running his fingers over a patch of exposed skin at John's hip, making the man stiffen at the tickling sensation it caused him.

"The feeling is less than mutual." John snapped, wanting to push Jim away.

"What were you dreaming about...?" Jim hummed, ignoring John's harsh words as if they'd never left his mouth.

"What do you mean? I wasn't-"

"Don't lie... It's so very dull... What was your dream about?" Jim shifted and nuzzled lower on John's stomach. John sighed heavily. "And tell the truth. I'll know if you're lying."

John looked over to his phones on the nightstand and wondered if he could text for help without Jim noticing.

"Stop thinking of texting Sherlock. C'mon Johnny. The sooner you talk to me the sooner I'll be out of your hair." Jim commanded lightly. John huffed and shook his head. He looked down at Jim and found he couldn't resist letting his fingers fall to play in the hair at the nape of Jim's neck.

"I was dreaming about the time Sebastian caught us shagging..." John replied softly. "How it started as a bit of rough housing while he went to get our dinner... You... nudged me and I pushed you... And then..."

Jim's breath caught in his throat and John stopped, looking down at the other man who'd gone impossibly still. As Jim exhaled he relaxed his body. The room was quiet for a long stretch. John reflected on his memories, his dream, the feel of Jim against him. The familiarity alone was enough to drive him made.

"I..." Jim finally broke the silence, "Had almost forgotten about that."

John looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully and shook his head.

"Jim..." he warned softly, and Jim seemed to know what John wanted to say. You should go... hung silently in the air.

"Just a moment longer, John... Sherlock is going to have you all night tonight, and I just want my moment before you're in his arms again..." Jim whispered, his voice thick and slightly pained. John rubbed Jim's back gently, feeling the warmth of the other man through the layers of expensive fabric. Jim got up a moment later and John didn't move. He watched Jim slip his shoes back on and stand up, straightening his suit with a deep and even breath.

"I'll be texting you... I'd like it if you could manage a reply now and again, I am paying for your plan after all." Jim said in a smooth and aloof manner, picking invisible lint off his jacket. John looked at the clean lines of the suit and nodded.

"I s'pose I could..." John said softly. "But don't expect anything to come of it. I'm... Not yours anymore."

Jim chuckled and shook his head, looking over his shoulder at John as he swept toward the bedroom door.

"But you will be again... I know you John Watson. I know how your mind works, and Sherlock does too. He know what lurks in you and he's done all he could to suppress what he knows to be your nature. I'll pull the wool off your eyes yet, my unfashionable army doctor... You'll see soon enough that I'll stop at nothing to win you over and show you my light..." Jim's voice was taunting and intentionally over-dramatic and John couldn't help but laugh a little.

"You sound ridiculous." John stated with a lopsided grin. He'd feel guilty about this whole encounter later, but as Jim spoke, an idea sparked in John. "But... Maybe we can come to an agreement. You say you'll do anything? I've got something you can do..."

The door of the flat swinging open and the sound of Sherlock calling out cut their conversation immediately short.

"John? Are you in?"

Jim grinned.

"I suppose I must be off. Text me, darling." Jim said with a wink, and then he padded down the stairs just as Sherlock stepped into the living room, not even catching a glimpse of the consulting criminal out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't until he heard the flat door open and shut again that Sherlock realized someone had been in. He immediately deduced, as he saw John's coat slung over his chair, that it had been Moriarty. He quickly rushed up the stairs, panic making the blood in his veins run impossibly cold.

"John! John!" Sherlock called, flinging the bedroom door open.

"Yes I'm here Sherlock, calm down." John urged, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. John had hidden his phone away between the mattress and box spring and placed it on silent before Sherlock had busted in. He hoped that the detective wouldn't notice. Sherlock was at him in an instant, kneeling in front of John and grabbing his arms and face as he examined him thoroughly.

"He was here. He didn't hurt you did he? You're not harmed?" Sherlock demanded, frantically pushing John's shirt up to examine him further.

"Sherlock..."

"I swear if he's harmed you I'll..."

"Sherlock..."

"How dare he come into this flat and..."

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock's head snapped up, his black curls bouncing a bit at the sudden movement. John leaned down and kissed Sherlock softly, but insistent. Sherlock melted immediately and his frantic hands relaxed and fell to the mattress on either side of John's legs. When they parted John pet Sherlock's hair.

"You've been gone hours..." John commented softly, glancing at the darkening sky through a gap in his shades. Sherlock nodded weakly, letting John push his coat off his shoulders and slowly pull his scarf off as well. As they hit the floor, Sherlock leaned forward, pressing his forehead against John's cotton covered sternum.

"Mycroft was... lecturing me..." he said bitterly, inhaling deeply through his nose. "I wanted to be here, with you..." he slowly exhaled, his fingers moving to grip the sheets. John smiled softly, a pang of guilt making him ache all over. Sherlock could surely smell Jim's cologne and shampoo on his shirt at this point, and John somehow, knew that's what he was doing. After all this time with the other man, he'd learned a bit about Sherlock's observational habits.

"He didn't do anything... Just laid about..." John assured quietly, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair and down his neck, squeezing the muscles lightly. Sherlock sighed softly and shook his head, letting John slowly begin to disrobe him further. John helped him shrug out of his jacket next and then he reached down, popping open one button at a time on Sherlock's shirt. He slipped out of that too, and then John pulled his last layer off, a plain white undershirt. When his torso was bare, John was carefully kneading the muscles of Sherlock's shoulders.

"That doesn't make me feel better John." Sherlock said flatly, but they both knew he was lying. The tell tale groan of approval that came shortly after John's fingers worked loose a knot in his shoulder.

"The trial is over, Sherlock." John said softly. Sherlock slowly raised his head and looked John in the eyes, a light pink dusting his cheeks as the realization of what John meant settled in. John smiled softly and watched Sherlock slowly rise and kick off his shoes. John reached forward and grabbed Sherlock by his belt, kissing his milky white belly while he unclasping the strap of leather. He slowly slid it from the loops and kissed at Sherlock's hips next as he unbuttoned the taller man's trousers and pulled them down. Sherlock stepped out of the black fabric and John chuckled softly as he saw Sherlock had nothing underneath.

"No pants, Sherlock?" John teased quietly, running his fingers over the other man's thighs. His hair there was surprisingly light but no less coarse than any other man John had touched. Except Jim, Jim's was soft... John stopped that train of thought immediately and prayed that Sherlock couldn't actually read minds for the hundredth time since they'd first met.

"I haven't had time to do the washing yet this week. Trial got me a bit busy." Sherlock replied, his tone sharp and defensive, but John gentle kisses silenced his moodiness for the moment.

John got up onto his knees on the mattress and scooted backward, taking Sherlock by the hips and coaxing him forward onto the bed. Their lips met instinctually. This was something they were both familiar with by now. Kissing. John had never had someone who was so well learned in what he enjoyed in a kiss until he'd started kissing Sherlock. Sherlock knew how to bite, where to suck, when to pull away, when to be gentle, when to get rough. John hardly had to do much to enjoy it, and often let Sherlock take the lead. Which he did. John moaned softly into Sherlock's mouth, feeling the other man's fingers skirting shyly around the hem of his shirt. John gave him a reassuring smile and nodded against Sherlock's neck as he ducked down to kiss and suck at the pale skin he'd been aching to touch and taste all over. Sherlock gripped John's shirt and tugged it off, tossing it aside.

There was a desperateness to their movements, and John was quick to lay Sherlock out on the bed, his lips moving over every inch of Sherlock he could reach. Sherlock was panting and fighting to keep from mewling at the feel of John's slick tongue over his skin. His world was suddenly so small and intense. It was all John's tongue and lips and teeth on his nipples and hips and oh christ!

John's lips wrapped around Sherlock's long and slender manhood, and the heat of John's mouth around him made Sherlock shudder and buck involuntarily. The movement made John's teeth catch his shaft and the little bit of pain sent sparks of hunger flying through his body. He groaned low and hungry, his natural husky baritone shining through in every noise he made. His fingers were in John's hair and he was unable to keep himself from pushing down on the other man's head, burying John's nose in his groin. John grabbed Sherlock's hips tight and forced them down, breathing heavily through his nose. Sherlock whimpered as John pulled away and wrenched his head up.

"You'll bloody suffocate me you twat..." John warned, though there was no real venom in it. Sherlock was flushed from head to toe and seemed a bit out of sorts. It made John chuckle softly. "Just relax and let me do this..."

Sherlock nodded, his head tipping back on the pillow and his hands slipping out of John's hair to grip the duvet instead. John dipped back down and took Sherlock in his mouth again, sucking him slow and languid, careful not to hurt Sherlock at first.

"John... John your teeth... I liked that..." Sherlock said breathily, and John hummed in acknowledgement, drawing a strangled sound from the other man. John couldn't help the bit of amusement that it brought him. He took note and let his teeth catch at Sherlock, dragging across his sensitive flesh now and again. Sherlock was writhing beneath him and John held him in place while he worked him over.

"John! John... I'm... Ngh." Sherlock tried to warn John before his orgasm washed suddenly over him, sending him shuddering and moaning at the overwhelming sensation. John coughed a little as Sherlock spilled into his mouth, not able to swallow all of it. He licked away what was left from Sherlock's spent cock. Sherlock pushed at John's shoulder weakly.

"Oh god stop, it's too much..." Sherlock groaned in protest. John nodded, petting Sherlock's hip placatingly.

"You all right, then...?" John asked hoarsely, watching Sherlock lull a bit in his post-orgasm haze. Sherlock nodded weakly.

"Yeah... Yeah I'm... Fine." Sherlock replied softly, pulling John down on top of him. He winced and shivered as John's pants covered erection brushed against his spent length. Sherlock kissed John and then almost immediately pulled away.

"That... Is awful." Sherlock commented blandly, wiping at his mouth. When John realized he was speaking of the taste of Sherlock's release in his mouth, he chuckled softly and shook his head.

"You're welcome." John replied with a roll of his eyes. Sherlock nodded, kissing John's cheek and then jaw gingerly as if afraid to encounter the taste again.

"John... Are you going to...?" Sherlock gestured to himself and John raised a brow.

"Am I going to what, Sherlock?" he asked, not sure what the other man was getting at.

"Penetrate me." Sherlock responded. John snorted and kissed Sherlock's forehead.

"If you're alright with that... Sure..." John replied, amusement in his voice. Sherlock nodded, running his hands up and down John's back sensually.

"I am." he announced, and then he attempted to kiss John again. His nose wrinkled a bit at the lingering taste of himself, but he didn't stop this time, licking his way into John's mouth. John sighed softly and his eyes slipped shut as he indulged in the kiss. He broke away a moment later to reach into his bedside drawer and he withdrew a bottle of lubricant and a condom. He set the condom aside and slathered the lube onto his fingers.

"You best turn over, Sherlock. It'll be easier that way." John urged, watching Sherlock roll almost immediately. John propped a pillow under the other man's hips, ignoring Sherlock's slight hiss at having his still sensitive dick pressed between his stomach and the fabric. John was careful, and pressed lightly at Sherlock's hole, experimental and exploratory. Sherlock's muscles were still quite relaxed from his recent orgasm and John had no trouble slipping in one finger. He rubbed Sherlock's hip reassuringly at the slight intake of breath Sherlock made.

"How's it feel?" John asked calmly, moving the digit in and out. Sherlock made a strange, nasally noise and gripped the sheets.

"Strange..." Sherlock replied softly. "But not unpleasant..."

John smiled a little and nodded.

"Good... It's going to hurt a bit, but I'll be gentle as I can, yeah? I'm sure it's been a while since you've done this..." John said quietly, and Sherlock grunted non-committally in response. John simply smiled, beginning to tease a second finger at Sherlock's opening, and after a little bit of teasing, the muscle relaxed a bit and he pushed his finger in. Sherlock gasped and went stiff for a moment, it was uncomfortable and foreign but he didn't say anything of it. John watched Sherlock carefully, watched his muscles in his back shift and then relax again.

John worked with the two fingers, scissoring after a time, drawing a slight grunt from Sherlock, and then, he had three fingers inside the detective, and not long after, he had four. Sherlock adapted well to the stretch, his body relaxing and growing accustomed to the feeling. He was panting hard against the mattress.

"John... John I think I'm ready..." he grunted through clenched teeth. John didn't hesitate. He shimmied out of his pants while keeping his fingers still busily buried inside Sherlock. He opened the condom with his teeth and rolled it over himself, groaning a little at the feel of some proper stimulation. He'd neglected himself up to this point, and indulged himself in a little stroking. Sherlock gave a whine of disapproval at the delay and John shakily removed his fingers. Sherlock slumped a little, sighing in what sounded like relief.

"Are you... Sure, Sherlock?" John asked softly, watching the other man breath heavy into the pillow.

"John, don't be boring." Sherlock warned, and that was all the encouragement John needed to push himself into Sherlock. Sherlock gave a growl at the burn of penetration, but relaxed significantly when John stilled inside him. John gave an experimental roll of his hips and Sherlock gasped hard, pushing back toward John.

"Move." Sherlock commanded. John's hips began to piston immediately. He throat hard into Sherlock, his head tipped back as he gasped in lungfuls of air harshly, his throat burning. It didn't take much to work up a hard sweat, and Sherlock was moving with him, snapping back into each thrust, his muscles clinging hard at John's cock with each outward stroke he made. John watched Sherlock's back muscles shudder with each thrust and he gripped the pale man's hips so tight he was sure to bruise. He jerked his thrusts at a different angle until he found the desired result he was looking for.

"Oh! That! Again John!" Sherlock ordered, and John kept at the angle, his cock brushing Sherlock's prostate with each thrust. The change made his muscles burn with the extra effort it took, but damn it felt good. John lost himself in his movement, and his orgasm snuck up on him like a sudden storm. He groaned long and low, shuddering all over and hunching against Sherlock's back as he toppled over the edge into orgasm. Sherlock wedged his hand under himself as John started to go deadweight and jerked at his cock a few times, spilling for the second time as John pulled out of him. John crushed Sherlock under his solid muscled mass as he collapsed from exhaustion. John let Sherlock shove him off and he was startled when the other man was curling up against him almost immediately after John was laid out on his back.

Sherlock's head was curled into the crook of John's neck, his arm wrapped possessively around John's waist. They laid together and slowly got their breath back. It was quiet for ages, and John was content to let it stay that way. The room was dark now, and the only light was coming from the hall through the wide open door. John mentally thanked the heavens that Mrs. Hudson didn't come looking about for them...

John's thoughts of course, were interrupted.

"John?" Sherlock inquired quietly.

"Yes Sherlock?" John answered.

"I've never done that before. Not with anyone." Sherlock admitted, as though he were perplexed by his own words.

John felt another horrible wave of guilt roiling through him.

"Oh...?" John croaked, "Well... I... I hope I wasn't too bad then..."

Sherlock nuzzled closer and huffed through his nose, the air feeling cool against John's hot, damp skin.

"Did you sleep with him?" Sherlock asked quietly. John went stiff and wanted to yell at Sherlock for bringing Jim up at a time like this. Not exactly pillow talk material, mate.

But he didn't yell. He told the truth.

"Yes... I did."

Sherlock nodded and kissed John's shoulder and then neck.

"I hope I wasn't too bad then." Sherlock said, mimicking John's line from moments ago. John turned his head and forced Sherlock to look at him.

"Sherlock. You were you. And I could never ask for more." John said firmly, kssing him softly. Sherlock hummed softly, but said nothing more. After a few minutes of silence, John realized that Sherlock had fallen asleep. Had he not napped, John might have been able to as well. But he couldn't. So he laid awake and stewed in his own guilt with Sherlock curled delicately against his side...

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