RaeWitch: Oh, that makes me so happy to hear! I'm glad you're enjoying it so much!
LittleLizard098: I don't blame you; certainly don't feel any pressure to comment on each chapter if you don't want. But, even if it's not anything new, it's still good to hear that you're still here :)
prettylittlehead22: I'm so glad you agree about the song. The first time I heard it it socked me in the gut about how appropriate it was for these two idiots in love.
sweetmarly: I figured that Professor Ellis had to be pretty observant and know Sherlock pretty well (even from all those years ago), so he surely would see through the ruse. I had a great time using him to drop the truth on the pair. So glad you like the song, as well!
The driver seemed relieved to pull up at the Holmes manor, and hopped out of the car to open the back door. Neither man noticed, too busy snogging one another passionately like teenagers to realise that the car had stopped, or that there was a breeze entering the car which was rapidly airing out the smell of lust and desire around them.
Clearing his throat, the driver stood on nervously until Sherlock pulled back from John and nudged the doctor. John turned to look at the poor man who was attempting to avert his eyes from two impressively erect cocks pushing up against formal trousers. The driver moved to a better position and simply stood silent and stoic as both Sherlock and John climbed out of the car.
"Thanks," John blushed, nodding as he entwined his fingers into Sherlock's and allowed Sherlock to pull him towards the house.
Sherlock had just entered the hallway through the entrance door when a flash caught their attention and both Holmes parents stood grinning happily. John could only imagine what that photo would show; both men flushed and panting, their erections thankfully hidden by their jackets, but still looking incredibly aroused.
"Oh. You're still awake," Sherlock said, blinking at his parents, "Why? I expected you to be in bed."
"We wanted to see how the evening went!" Mrs. Holmes grinned, noticing the entwined hands without a word, "It seems to have gone well, then?"
"John punched a man, I saw Professor Ellis, now I would like to retire to bed," Sherlock answered with a rapid and clipped tone, "Goodnight mother, father."
"Hold up," Mr. Holmes frowned, "we made cocoa."
"That's…very thoughtful," John replied, gritting his teeth and willing his erection down.
"No it isn't!" Sherlock scoffed, glaring at John, "I hoped we could do – the thing?"
"The thing?" John frowned in reply, glancing at Sherlock as he narrowed his eyes, "Oh. Oh right…that thing."
"Dear Lord, do you think your mother and I are blind?" Mr Holmes said as he rolled his eyes, "Obviously there has been a shift in your relationship and you're – interested in furthering it."
John blushed, clearing his throat, "Mr. Holmes…I – I wouldn't..."
"Oh hush," Mrs. Holmes stepped in kindly, putting a hand on John's shoulder, "Do you think we're prudes? Hmm? We understand the drive of arousal and lust…"
"Yes, thank you. That's enough of that," Sherlock grimaced.
"Your mother and I will head off to bed shortly," Mr. Holmes explained with a soft, almost proud smile, "so you and your John can have some privacy."
Sherlock's breath escaped in a long huff and he tugged on John's arm, "We're very tired. Goodnight. Don't wake us in the morning...as I've said: very tired."
"Mhmm," Mrs. Holmes said smugly from behind them, "I expect you'll be exhausted."
John mewled with embarrassment, almost tripping up the step as he heard Mr. Holmes shout after them.
"I've put in some prophylactics in your bedside table. And the lady in the chemist suggested a type of lubricant so I left that there, too."
Sherlock led John eagerly into his own bedroom with barely a complaint from the older man.
"My pajamas are in the other room," John teased, motioning vaguely towards the door as Sherlock closed them in.
"You won't be needing them," Sherlock asserted before moving to kiss John again.
"I might," he countered, pulling back after a brief kiss. The presence (and blatant enthusiasm) of the Holmes parents had finally managed to quell his arousal.
"Why? I thought we were going to do the thing?"
"You don't have to keep calling it ' the thing' now that we're alone," John smiled fondly up at him.
Sherlock blushed and quietly murmured something John couldn't quite catch.
"Do you not want to have sex with me?" Sherlock asked, trying to sound haughty but not being able to cover every trace of doubt in his tone.
"Oh, no," John negated before pulling Sherlock's lips back to his to kiss away the frown. He pulled back just enough to separate their lips but allow their foreheads to still touch, "of course I do. It's just...it doesn't feel like quite the right time, does it?"
"But we love each other," Sherlock stated with confusion.
John's heart leapt at the statement. He pulled further from Sherlock to look him in the eye, probably impossibly besotted-looking, "We do?" Because John had only heard Sherlock admit that he wasn't pretending at being his boyfriend tonight; the man had said nothing of loving him in return.
As nonchalantly as he could affect, Sherlock responded with a quiet, "Obviously."
"Tell me?"
"Must I?" Sherlock grumbled, looking away, "You already know it…and I've never said it to anybody before. Surely you understand?"
"I do," John nodded, cupping Sherlock's cheek, "but it would still mean a lot to hear it. I'm not going to push; we have all the time in the world but I just thought tha -"
"I love you, John," Sherlock said in a barely-there whisper, his eyes locking onto John as he spoke, a pretty blush covering his cheeks and nose.
John pulled him down again for another intense kiss, like the ones they shared in the back of the car. Sherlock began to walk them towards the bed as his hands removed John's jacket before moving to pull his shirt from his trousers.
John reluctantly ended the kiss while placing his hands over Sherlock's to still them, "You're making it incredibly difficult for me to tell you no."
"So then don't," Sherlock argued, attempting to move his hands back to John's waist, but the other man only held on tighter.
"I really, really want to wait until we're back at Baker Street to do this," John insisted.
"And I really, really don't want to let you go."
John smiled, "You don't have to; I want to spend the night with you, just not having sex."
Sherlock blushed again at the thought, "I don't see what the problem is: my parents have said it's fine and even provided aids."
"Yeah," John cleared his throat awkwardly just thinking about it, "that's the crux of the problem," at Sherlock's perplexed look, John elaborated, "Their blessing is very sweet and all, but it's a bit weird. I don't want to equate your parents into our sex life; I hope to be having quite a lot of it with you, and that may hinder things."
Sherlock seemed to consider his reasoning before nodding, "Your logic is sound; we'll wait until we're home. But you won't leave me tonight?"
"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."
When John awoke the next morning it was to a nest of dark curls under his nose and a starfished detective taking up the majority of the bed. Blinking himself into full consciousness, John looked down and smiled. Somehow in the night, Sherlock had taken off his pajamas and was laid in just underpants, his bare legs tangled around John's smaller ones.
John didn't want to move - truly he was comfortable and content to remain under Sherlock until the younger man awoke - but his bladder was protesting quite dramatically at the amount of champagne he had forced into it. John mewled in complaint and shuffled across the bed, shaking his head when Sherlock made a snuffling noise and moved across with him, continuing his grasp onto John's body.
"Sherlock..." John whispered, stroking Sherlock's curls back from his face to gently wake him, "Hey, Sherlock. Wake up."
"No," Sherlock grumbled but his eyes flickered blearily, his tongue flicking out to lick his sleep dry lips, "What do you want?"
"A wee," John replied, smiling down at his friend.
"Not sure I can do anything to help with that, unless you want me to hold it?" Sherlock said jokingly before his eyes opened fully, "Actually..."
"No," John laughed, holding up a hand, "I'm fine with that, thanks. Can manage. I just need you to untangle yourself as I'm bursting."
Sherlock considered John's words and then huffed, flinging himself onto his back with a dramatic flourish, "You spoil everything."
"I know," John replied happily, kissing Sherlock's forehead and then getting out of bed. Dressed in only his pants, John was very aware that Sherlock could see his entire body and he cringed at the click in his knees as he stood from the bed. Sherlock didn't respond, but John ensured he clenched his buttocks to make them tighter and more attractive.
"What on earth are you doing?" Sherlock chuckled from the bed, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his stomach in a seamlessly seductive pose.
"I don't want you to see my flabby arse," John smirked over his shoulder, tensing his bum and thighs.
"Your arse is many things, but it is not flabby," Sherlock insisted, licking his lips, "Delightful? Definitely. Delicious? I hope to find out..."
"Stop," John snorted, holding a finger up in warning, "I need a wee, and I can't do that with a stiffy, so stop it."
"See, you spoil everything," Sherlock repeated, huffing dramatically.
Once both men were showered and dressed, John kissed Sherlock softly and took him by the hand as they began their descent downstairs to breakfast. Both men could hear the Holmes parents chattering and playfully fighting with one another as their plates clicked and their cutlery chimed. John was quickly aware of the similarities between the Holmes marriage and his and Sherlock's friendship, and he found himself hoping it would last the same length of time.
"Good morning!" Mrs. Holmes smiled as they walked into the room, startling Mr. Holmes who looked over at the door. John was very aware of the pair of them scanning both men, obviously deducing the evening.
"Morning," John replied, moving to sit beside Mr. Holmes and opposite Mrs. Holmes.
"Lockie?" Mr. Holmes replied, pouring out tea for their guests, "Did you have a good night?"
"We didn't have sex," Sherlock huffed, his eyes meeting John's shocked expression challengingly.
"Sherlock!" John hissed, blushing crimson.
"Oh," Mrs. Holmes said sadly, reaching to touch Sherlock's arm, "It'll happen, sweetheart. Don't you worry."
John had absolutely no idea what the courteous reply should be to this situation. Normally, families didn't discuss sex over the breakfast table, but as usual, the Holmes' bucked the trend.
"It – I didn't – It just wasn't…it wasn't the right time," John insisted, clearing his throat, "I'm sure it will happen…it's going to happen… definitely . Just at home."
Mrs. Holmes seemed to be cheered by that news and nodded as she handed Sherlock the jam, "That's good then."
"You can take the prophylactics and lubricant home with you," Mr. Holmes hummed, "Myself and Mummy won't be needing them..."
Mrs. Holmes tittered and reached across the table to take Mr. Holmes' hand, smiling flirtatiously before gesturing with her other hand, "Oh, we'll leave them in Mycroft's room. For when him and Gregory stay over."
"Yes," John nodded quickly, smirking, "Yes. Do that."
He couldn't wait to torment Greg.
"So when do you two think you might be heading back on the road?" Mr. Holmes asked.
"As soon as possible. I would quite like to get home so that we can have sex," Sherlock said without a care, not even looking up from his phone in hand.
John choked on his tea while both parents nodded sagely in understanding, "Of course," Mr. Holmes replied.
"Well, we don't have to rush home; we can certainly stay for lunch if you'd like. Supper, even," John countered, supremely embarrassed by this family's nonchalance towards the topic.
"Supper?" Mrs. Holmes sounded scandalized, "Good God, do you even want to have sex with our Sherlock?"
"Wha-" John started, but couldn't finish even the word as he looked around the table at three very accusatory, curious faces.
"Well, it's a fair question," Mrs. Holmes continued haughtily, "you didn't engage in coitus last night, even though we provided everything you'd need, and now you're putting off going home? It just seems like you're not that interested, John," she ended, sounding disappointed.
"I am interested!" He responded angrily before he could let his embarrassment take over, "I'm very interested. It has taken a considerable amount of self-restraint to have waited, and continue to wait," he paused and it sunk in what he just admitted to his soon-to-be-lover's parents. He softened before continuing, "It's just...I'm not exactly comfortable talking about this aloud."
"With us?" Mr. Holmes asked.
"With anyone ," John stressed, "It's practically part of British law: tea and prudishness. We don't talk about it; it's just not on."
"We've never understood that thinking," Mrs. Holmes dismissed without a care, "Siger and I still indulge in sex multiple times a week. It's such a profound connection and only proves how much we still love each other; why hide or not talk about something like that?"
John tried to think of a logical answer to the question, but he honestly couldn't find one, so he merely shook his head and lifted his shoulders.
"So, you do still want to have sex when we get home?" Sherlock asked shyly from across the table.
"Yes, God yes," John replied emphatically, "I just feel like we have plenty of time and there's no need to rush it."
"You may not have as much time as you think," Mr. Holmes cautioned.
"What do you mean?" John asked, crinkle in his brow.
Mr. Holmes chuckled, "Have you met my son? You know better than anyone the dangers that he gets himself into. How little care he takes chasing after criminals."
John blanched at that, remembering the numerous times Sherlock had nearly gotten himself killed. Mr. Holmes was right: time with Sherlock was unpredictable and finite. His eyes - full of realisation and trepidation - found Sherlock's curious and slightly-weary ones.
"Right. Maybe we should get going," John said to Sherlock.
"But you said-" Sherlock started in confusion.
"Sod what I said, your dad is right. Come home with me."
"Now?" Sherlock asked, still trying to catch up to John's sudden shift in mentality.
"Preferably hours ago, but now will do," he agreed, pushing his chair back as he stood up.
A/N: Check out more of KittieHill's works by searching her on AO3 - she is brilliant!
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