"Sh-sherlock, are you g-going back to sleep?" John asked quietly.
"No," Sherlock answered in a low rumble.
"C-could you put on s-some c-clothes then?" John said, sounding rather embarrassed.
Sherlock peeked up at the other boy and noticed that John was blushing and pointedly not looking at Sherlock. Sherlock looked down and noticed that his towel was now barely covering him and he was essentially naked.
"Clothes are dull," Sherlock replied in a bored tone.
This only seemed to further embarrass John, as his face turned impossibly redder.
"Are you embarrassed because I am naked?" Sherlock asked curiously, lifting his head off of John's shoulder.
John's eyes flicked down at Sherlock's barely covered crotch and he coughed slightly. He turned his head back away from Sherlock.
"I c-can see your…" he muttered.
Sherlock shifted up on his knees, letting his towel fall further down. He didn't know what possessed him to do so, but suddenly he felt that itch he felt when he needed to know something. He leaned towards John and cocked his head. John turned to look at him, his face contorting slightly in what looked like pain. He looked like he was restraining himself from looking down at Sherlock's now half-exposed cock. This made Sherlock shiver. John's eyes valiantly stayed fixed on Sherlock's as Sherlock leaned a few centimeters forward.
"Why are you embarrassed?" Sherlock questioned, "What would be embarrassing about my naked body? Unless you think it's embarrassing that you want to look."
Apparently, this sentence broke John's concentration as his eyes snapped down and back up again. He gasped slightly.
"No, I...I don't…" he sputtered.
"You do," Sherlock assured him, leaning closer.
John leaned backwards as Sherlock leaned forward, until Sherlock was practically on top of John.
"Sh-Sherlock," John whispered, "Wh-what are y-you doing?"
"You stutter when you're nervous," Sherlock observed, adding: "And I like it."
John looked up at him with wide eyes.
"I don't know you," Sherlock stated, "But I feel like I do. And I want to. And I care for you. Why? What is it that you possess that makes you different than other people?"
"I d-don't…I…I d-don't know," John answered.
Sherlock leaned even more forward, slamming his hands down on either side of John's head. Now he was on top of John. The other boy's legs were pinned awkwardly beneath his hips. John's eyes were impossibly wide and his body was shaking slightly. Suddenly, Sherlock felt weak. His arms collapsed out from under him, causing him to crash down onto John, who let out a loud yelp. Sherlock's eyes fluttered closed and he panted against John's neck. John squirmed beneath him, clearly uncomfortable.
"Are you ok?" John gasped, "Sh-Sherlock?"
"No…" Sherlock groaned, "Not ok. Weak. Very weak."
"Withdrawals?" John suggested.
"Probably," Sherlock answered.
"Sh-Sherlock, c-can you move?" John asked frantically.
"No," Sherlock said, though he wasn't sure if that was true.
"G-god…you're so…you're so…" John mumbled, "You're so naked!"
Sherlock laughed slightly, the noise rumbling in his chest.
"You like it," Sherlock muttered.
Then there were fluttery touches against his back. He jumped slightly in surprise and the touches paused. He stilled completely, inviting the touches to continue. And they did. John's fingers hesitantly pressed lightly to Sherlock's lower back. They radiated warmth and calm, making Sherlock gasp slightly. But the touches weren't enough. He needed more. He needed something to reach inside him and banish the new confusing feeling. The new feelings in general. He needed them to be gone, so his head could be clear again. Without warning he was rolled over and John was hovering above him.
"Are you ok?" John repeated.
"No," Sherlock moaned, "I need something."
"What do you need?" John questioned.
"Drugs," Sherlock croaked.
"Sherlock, I can't-," John was interrupted by Sherlock grabbing his arms violently.
"Please, John!" Sherlock gasped, "I need them! They can stop this! They can make me calm again! Please, John, please!"
The more he begged, the more convinced he was that he really did need them. He gripped John's arms tightly.
"Please!" he screamed, "Please! I'll do anything! Please!"
John flinched slightly and tried to pull his arms away, but Sherlock pulled him down onto him. He unceremoniously crashed their lips together. John seemed frozen in shock as Sherlock hastily licked at John's lips. John stubbornly pulled his head away.
"This is what you want, right?" Sherlock said, his voice hysteric, "So, so, I can give you this! Then-then you let me get them!"
"I don't want it!" John yelled, "Not like this! Let go!"
Sherlock's hands let go before he fully grasped the command. John sat up and slid off of Sherlock. He pulled the towel back around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock lay there limply, barely registering John's moving about. He felt too hot and itchy and his eyes were trying to pour water from them. John came back within a few minutes and put his hand under Sherlock's head. He lifted him up slightly and tipped a cold glass of water to his lips. Sherlock obediently opened his mouth and allowed the cool water to slide past his tongue. John sat down heavily on the bed.
"It's ok, Sherlock," John whispered, "You're going to be ok."
"Lay with me," Sherlock whispered back.
John didn't answer. He merely set the glass on the nearest table and lay out next to Sherlock. Sherlock rolled over and pressed his leaking eyes into John's shoulder. John wrapped his arms around him, putting a hand in his hair.
"It's ok, Sherlock," he repeated, "It's ok."
Sherlock made a frustrated noise as he sobbed into John's shirt. John stroked a hand through Sherlock's hair. They didn't speak as Sherlock's sobs slowly died down. They just lay there, quietly listening to each other's breath. It seemed that they might lay there forever. There is no good reason to get up, Sherlock reasoned. But then John reminded him:
"You're still naked, Sherlock."
"I don't care," Sherlock said in an exasperated tone.
"Alright, alright," John relented, "Just tell me if you get cold."
"I'm cold," Sherlock said immediately, "Get closer."
John wiggled around for a moment and then pulled a blanket up over them. Sherlock was slightly disappointed that the blonde hadn't just snuggled up to him, so he took the initiative and wiggled closer to John's warm body. John didn't seem to mind too much until Sherlock threw his leg over the other boy's.
"Sherlock!" John gasped, "You're getting entirely too close!"
"Who was your dream about?" Sherlock demanded.
"What?" John said, "Is it important?"
"Yes," Sherlock said coolly, "It is very important. Who was he?"
"How did you-?" John looked shocked, "How did you know it was a boy?"
"You said "he" earlier," Sherlock pointed out (again), "You said "he only touched me" and "he clamped on". So who was he?"
"Just a guy," John said, awkwardly shifting away.
"Was it me?" Sherlock pressed.
John's eyes turned back to his and he gave him a sad look.
"Does it matter?" he said softly, "What difference will it make if it was you or someone else?"
"I guess it doesn't," Sherlock muttered.
They went silent again, not looking at each other and not moving away. Sherlock pressed his forehead into John's chest and sighed loudly.
"I'm just so confused," he admitted in a small voice.
"It's ok," John assured him, "Let's just get through withdrawals first, alright?"
"Alright," Sherlock agreed.
Little note: Hi guys. I'm not doing so good, mentally, so my updates are going to take longer and not be as good. Hopefully I get better soon and I can go back to being a good writer for you all. Thank you for your reviews, follows and favorites. It means a lot.