Disclaimer: Those awesome characters are not mine, damn! Whatever you might recognise is not mine either.
Pairing None. Characters John and Sherlock
Rating NC-17
Note from Author:
Per ACD we only have DI Lestrade name, and a single initial as a first name :G , SO all the door are open to interpretations. And Gregory is NOT canon...
Thank you for your kind attention... Lol.
Betaed by the sweet blue_eyed_1987. Thanks Hun
John and Sherlock
John came home quietly, he had taken the tube toward Baker Street but had decided to walk from one or two station before his stop. He had wanted to walk home in order to think and he coolly examined all his options.
Both of them. Not too many to be frank. Only two.
First option was to give up, put what had happened tonight in a very far corner of his mind and forget everything. Second option was to forget Sherlock and his game, talk seriously with Lestrade and maybe try to see if they stood a chance together.
The problem with this option was the number of issues they could have.
First, Gabriel was aware of Sherlock flirting and was a willing participant in this disaster.
Second: Gabriel and him talked about it tonight. Sherlock wouldn't share nicely.
Third: Even with the kiss, John didn't know if the DI was really interested in an ex-military Doctor.
And fourth... Until these last few weeks, the man known as John Watson, had never intended to seduce - seriously he means - another male person.
He had experimented when he was young, very willingly in fact. Not after Medical School, it's true, but there had been several nights, complete with the flirting, and the certitude that nothing would follow. That the next morning, they would not even have a breakfast. Nor a lunch and even less, another night together.
He had enjoyed it, but finally had always finished on top. His lovers never asked him to bottom. He could have said yes, it hadn't mattered.
Later, in the army, he had witnessed the soldiers, the young recruits, less ashamed to share a friendly hand over a midnight wank. Without a face attached to the helping hand.
When they were too depressed or just a tad too drunk to let the barrier fall.
But nothing serious, nothing which couldn't be forgotten in the morning without guilt.
And more than twenty years after Uni, here he was. In an ambiguous situation. He had fell under Lestrade's gruff charm.
Gabriel Lestrade.
The sweet DI, who was more than in love with Sherlock Holmes, close friend, verging on best friend and flatmate of said Watson
Besides, when looking back a few hours, and the small kiss that Lestrade had accepted without a fight, he could, maybe, not be completely opposed to a friendly reunion between them.
John chuckled, pleased to have stolen the kiss anyway. Still slightly high from this kiss in fact. And maybe, he had a lucky star somewhere.
The windows in number 221B were dark, no light inside the flat apparently, meaning either Sherlock was thinking, alone in the dark, but he usually had a desk lamp on, or he out of the flat, running after something, somewhere on the streets.
The flat was empty, as John could see when entering the main room. He took his jacket off and went in the kitchen to make a cuppa. He was too excited to sleep anyway, so he turned the telly on.
He was sat on the sofa, not his usual spot, but he had wanted to put his feet on the low table and that had motivated his choice of furniture. He was distractedly watching a rerun of something situated in Africa.
He had his mobile in his hand, his thumb hovering above the send key. He had composed a text earlier and hesitated to send it.
To : Gabriel
Thank you for this nice evening. I enjoyed it a lot.
See you soon.
John
John had hesitated because he was unsure of Gabriel's reaction.
He was no Sherlock, and he was completely in the dark here. Did Gabe resent John for what happened? Would he accept the offer?
And suddenly, the answer was very important for John. So important that the Doctor hesitated... Like a lovesick teen. Too afraid to do it. And even more afraid to not do it.
And it didn't matter that John was a Doctor and a soldier, that he had been in a war and was shot... but here, he was feeling unsteady and very vulnerable.
Finally he pressed the key, closing his eyes and holding his breath for a mere second.
He kept his fingers crossed and put his phone on the small low table, the farthest away he could without moving from his spot on the sofa. Only to avoid the temptation to check every minute or so if he did received an answer to his text.
The sound of the downstairs door pulled John out of his slumber. He checked his watch, it was almost midnight. John stretched his limbs while yawning.
Sherlock came in the living room in a twirl of his coat, divested himself of it and hung it on the back of the door, talking to John at the same time, a thousand word a minute as always.
"Hello John. You weren't home tonight. You dined outside," Sherlock sniffed the air and turned his head away. "Pasta and tomato sauce. Italian? A date I guess..."
"Yeah...A sort of date, I could say. More or less. Good evening Sherlock, do you want a tea? Have you eaten something? Do you want something? I'm pretty sure I can find something edible here." Said John standing up and stretching his arms over his head.
"No. And no. But a cup of tea would be nice. You know I..."
"Don't eat while on a case. I know, but you can't stop the Doctor in me worrying about your health." growled Watson, busying himself in making tea.
"And your date? You had a good evening?" Asked Sherlock, frowning his brows.
"Mmm..." grumbled John from the kitchen.
"Did you got your goodbye kiss in the end, at least?" Insisted the detective who was turning his laptop on.
"Yes. I stole it in fact. And I wasn't slapped in exchange." John explained, retrieving Sherlock's mug in the cupboard, and fetching milk to fix the tea exactly as his friend liked it.
"So? You will see her again?" Sherlock asked, lowering his voice.
John paused a mere second before nodding.
"Yes. I really hope to see him again." Said John in a quiet voice "I enjoyed this evening a lot and I wish he will give us a go."
"Him?" Repeated Sherlock, staring at his computer blankly.
"Him," confirmed John, sitting again in the sofa and picking his phone.
"I... I didn't know..." Said Sherlock slowly.
"I was bi? I thought you knew... At Angelo's the first night..." muttered John, hesitating to check his incoming texts.
"No. I wasn't certain about your complete heterosexuality, but your denial convinced me." declared Sherlock in a very low voice.
John raised his eyes and glanced at Sherlock who sat very still on his favourite chair. Straight as justice himself.
And misunderstood his behaviour completely.. He thought he had deceived him. And sighed internally. How could Sherlock be so intelligent and swimming in troubled water himself, and yet being so intransigent?
He pressed the "incoming text" key, a message was waiting.
He opened it, his heart fluttering.
fr: Gabriel Lestrade
Thank you for this nice diner. You do know, Doctor Watson, that you are playing a dangerous game?
John grinned when he read the text and quickly typed an answer.
fr: John
Danger is not a problem. As you know. Are you game?
The answer arrived a second later:
fr; Gabriel Lestrade
I'm very interested in playing. But you have to know several rules beforehand. We have to talk first. Tomorrow night, The Club?
This time, John's cheek blushed to a faint shade of pink, and he sighed quietly.
Fr: John
All right. Tomorrow night, the usual hour?
XOXO
John felt bold and added the two kisses at the last second. He didn't want to write it, but the symbols were sufficient to say what he had wanted to say.
He wanted to kiss him. Again. Better than the small peck they shared.
The last text, made him blush fiercely.
fr: Gabriel Lestrade
All right.
XOXO
GL
Sherlock didn't avert his gaze and was looking at him discreetly the whole time, John had received and sent texts. Different emotions passing over his expressive face as he reads the texts.
Sherlock was beyond enraged - how had he managed to have John being swept of under his nose... It was impossible. And yet, he had a date with another bloke this evening, and seemed unfazed that Sherlock knew. It wasn't Lestrade. Sherlock was pretty certain about that. Lestrade and John had shared a few drinks lately, but they were friends , that's all, and Gabriel wouldn't do that to Sherlock.
And Sherlock had the dreadful certainty he would have had his chance if he had spoke with John honestly, instead of playing ridiculous and complicated games.
Sherlock didn't sigh, yet admitted that if he had spoken with John, he might have got a quicker answer, but in this case, he wouldn't have this "thing" with Gabriel.
And this stupid " thing" was growing out of proportion. Now, when Sherlock was closing his eyes, it was Gabriel's face who was popping into his mind first. With his trademark smirk. With this boyish grin which make him twenty years younger.
But now, in this mere instant, him, the "great" Sherlock was lost. He was confused by John and his small smile. A happy smile.
"Some news from your "date" I can tell."
"Yeah," said John, feeling a bit guilty anyway.
"So?"
"We will meet tomorrow night to discuss some things before engaging in a relationship." Explained John softly.
Sherlock didn't glanced at him but snorted derisively:
"He is probably married and will try to persuade you to engage in a relationship with him, arguing he is about to get a divorce, and for now you would have to be discreet..."
"Obviously, how could I think I could meet a nice bloke? Someone trustworthy. Someone who's not like you?" Growled John rising from the sofa.
Sherlock stayed silent. John's voice was anything but friendly and Sherlock understood he had, again, crossed an invisible line.
But either way, it hurt a lot to see the people you're in love with, being seduced by someone else.
Even if you are a high functional sociopath, your heart ( and yes, you have a heart) has its own reason. The reason the mind doesn't have, and it's hard.
Holmes focused on his laptop, he plugged the memory stick and download the files given to him by Mycroft.
He began to watch the file, in fact he still had a job to do, two murderers to catch and apologies to give to Lestrade. The apologies part made him cringe a bit, but he had promised to himself.
John had seen Sherlock watch the video with great intensity, and came by the desk. Just because they shared the same interest in Gabriel, it didn't mean that John couldn't help him anymore with the cases.
"Could I help you? Asked John quietly, looming over Sherlock's shoulder to have a proper view of the screen.
"Take this and plug it in the TV, we will have a better view than on the computer anyway, and after, if we need to, we will run both files at the same time, on the screen and the laptop."
"Right."
John did as he was asked and plugged the memory stick on the side of the flatscreen, selected the first file and ran it.
"The first video is on, coming? "
Sherlock came near the Tv and they watched the file in silence. The first crime. The corpse on a rough patch of grass, suddenly. Appearing from nowhere.
There were very few people walking on the background.
Nothing very interesting, Sherlock and Lestrade had already concluded that the victim had been waiting out of the range of the CCTV camera and probably had an appointment with his murderers, there wasn't another explanation. And the killers had been fast and very audacious. And very clever to play with the cameras.
Then they saw the police arrive, then much later, Lestrade and Sherlock. The video ends abruptly a few seconds later.
John selected the second file and they watched it with the same attention.
Kensington road, they recognised the victim walking past the cameras, then the traffic for a few minutes. Several couples, the group of students, a few isolated people. Couples again.
That road was a bit more animated then the area of the first murder. And then a little bit more delicate to handle.
The video ended also abruptly.
John furrow his brows and scratched slightly the back of his neck.
"Nothing," growled Sherlock pulling his hair sharply as usual when he was enraged. "There is nothing in those bloody videos, I wonder why we are paying taxes if it's to have such an improper CCTV system?"
"Sherlock, you don't even pay taxes..." Stated John with a slight smirk, "Could you run the second file on the Tv while the first is running on your laptop?" He asked hesitantly, "there is something... I can't say what, but something is weird..."
"Did you saw anything?" Asked Sherlock, squinting his eyes, "I didn't see anything noticeable."
"Sherlock, please, indulge me." Insisted John sitting in front of the laptop.
"All right then... go on, surprise me."
"You're stupid. You always say even the insignificant details are important, so, here, something is weird. I don't know..."
"What?" Growled Sherlock, more and more frustrated, seeing nothing.
The two men watched the videos at the same time, several times, a lot of times in fact. Nearly ten times, and both men were about to give up, when John straightened suddenly.
"Sherlock,here. Look there... This couple on the first video and that one on the other one..."
"Yes and what? They have nothing in common John. First couple, tall woman, around, 5ft 8in, long and blond hair, mid tight coat, dress or skirt, high heeled boots, shouldered purse, the man is over 6 ft, short haired, classic parka, leather boots, jeans too. On the other vid, the couple is very different, the woman is taller,maybe 5.9 dark haired, wool beret, short coat, backpack, jeans and flat boots. Man is shorter than her, very short haircut, but not shaved, tweed cap, hunting coat, with leather pieces on the neck and elbows, velvet trousers, loafers."
John nodded, but insisted.
"I know. But I can't help myself, they are weird. Those two couples, I don't know, but I can't... Look at them, their attitude, the way they are walking. This man, with is arm on his girl, and there, the other one... There... God, I don't even know..."
Sherlock glanced at his friend and watched the videos again. Carefully. And after a while he had to accept his friend's conclusion. He was right. Both couples were curious. The four of them were almost interchangeable. Weirdly interchangeable.
Sherlock took his phone and push the speed dial number 3. He glanced at John while waiting for Mycroft to answer.
"What do you want?" Asked the older of the Holmes without bothering to greet his brother.
"One of your technicians, and the CCTV footage. John has noticed something weird and we should verify." Sherlock said abruptly.
"When?"
"Now."
"A car will be there shortly."
"I'll be down in a minute."
Sherlock hung up, jumped from his chair, disconnected the memory stick, and glanced at John again.
"Are you coming?"
The doctor shook his head.
"No, I have work tomorrow and I have to wake up in... five hours," he sighed, looking at his watch, "you know your suspects, you don't need me, you will be able to work alone, like a grown up..." John finished, yawning.
"See you tomorrow then..." Said Sherlock taking his coat from the door and going down the stairs in a flash.
John could heard the noise of en engine, he looked out of the the window and recognised one of Mycroft' s cars. Sherlock closed the door and the car pulled out into the traffic.
The noiseless flat was un-welcoming for a few seconds then John shrugged his shoulders. He cleaned up the cups and the kitchen, turned the light off and climbed the stair to his room,his mobile phone carefully tucked in his pocket.
He had readied himself for the night, had sat on his bed, had checked and had read Gabriel's texts a last time. And then, deleted them with regret. He knew Sherlock enough to know he was able to come in his room and take his phone for a case, and then stumble on the texts. No way in hell.
And now, as the situation was still not resolved between them, he didn't want Sherlock to know anything.
John had gone into bed, and stared at the ceiling for a long time, the evening playing again and again in his mind. He remembered Gabriel's happy smile, the mirth in his eyes.
The friendly argument over Doctor Who, the slightly awkward confession later, about Gabriel's crush on Eccleston.
John thought about it. He had nothing in common with Eccleston - neither the size, the actor was well above 6 feet tall - or hair colour, not the body shape either.
John wondered if the Inspector had a certain type of guy in mind. In which case of course, Sherlock was probably closer to the type in question. Tall, thin, pale, black haired...
Four out of four.
And for John, not so tall, bulkier, tanned and light haired.
Zero out of four.
"All right, then Doctor Watson," muttered John to himself, "don't forget that Gabriel didn't seems adverse to further the question with you. So, be brave and don't begin already defeated in advance."
John ran his fingers over his lips, trying to find the gentle kiss he had stolen from Lestrade. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the sweetness of Gabriel's mouth. On the sensation that his stubble had caused under his fingers tips.
The shiver of pleasure.
Watson closed his eyes again, and unconsciously put his hand on his belly, his palm flat over his diaphragm, he felt his breath raise his hand, and it was very sensual and slightly erotic suddenly. The blood flood slowly but surely toward the south.
The doctor in him analysed the reaction of his body, the blood flow, the temperature rise, which triggered the production of a few beads of sweat, the acceleration of his heart.
With a growl, John had let his hand go down and stop a second on the drawstring of his trousers, his fingers played with it for while. He wanted to caress himself.
Gabriel as a background picture under his eyelids. The brown eyes and the teenaged smile at time, and the innocent charm of Yarder, who had seduced John.
With a defeated sigh, John gave up and slid his hand in his pajamas. His fingers brushed the head of his cock, collecting a few drops of precum.
He moaned softly and opened his eyes, surprised by his reaction. His heart raced a bit more, his right hand grabbed the pillow under his head.
His breath became ragged as the rhythm of his stroke increased. He turned his head and bit his pillow when he felt his orgasm coming, muffling the name about to pass his lips.
He felt the warmth spreading over his cheeks, his chest, in the pit of his stomach.
In the hollow of his back.
He wanted... He needed...
He finished turning around and buried his head in his pillow growling while he came, pushing his hips forcefully in the mattress.
He missed someone. Somebody with him, a firm body against his. Strong arms which could hold him when he flew away and die in a flash of warmth and light. Someone who could keep him alive on the ground.
This absence took his breath away.
Gabriel.
Tomorrow night he would know.
TBC
