(I suggest you go back and re-read chapter 6 (if you read it on the 10th), as I did some editing on it the day after I posted it, wasn't 100% happy with it, hopefully it's better now) x
Lestrade had dropped John and Sherlock off at Baker Street, been very secretive about where he was heading. Sherlock let John in first, following him up the stairs, bumping into Mrs Hudson on the way up, she gasped when she saw John.
"John! What happened to you? You look dreadful dear." Of course she meant it in the best possible way.
"Sorry to startle you Mrs Hudson, I had an accident is all," John said, smiling at her, Sherlock trying to push him up towards their flat.
"Let me know if you need anything dear." She called after them. The two of them walked into their warm flat, throwing their shoes into the corner, John collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. Sherlock quickly walked to the kitchen, putting water in the kettle and left it to boil, placing some teabags into the tea pot, turning to face John. The doctor was laid across the sofa, still in his jacket. Sherlock grabbed a cloth, wetting it with some water, sitting on the floor by the sofa, placing the damp cloth against John's wound on his forehead. The man winced, but let Sherlock clean the wound, with one hand he held the cloth to John's head and with the other pulled the zipper on John's coat down, pushing it off his body, John raising his hips to allow Sherlock to pull it from under him, and he threw it towards the door. John let out a weary sigh, closing his eyes.
"I'm sorry John," Sherlock whispered. "Because of me you're always in danger, I understand if you're fed up." John frowned up at the ceiling.
"What are you getting at Sherlock?" John was more than a little exasperated; he knew what the man was implying, the detective should know him better by now.
"If you want to leave, I understand why." John bolted upright, turning to Sherlock, his eyes burning.
"Really Sherlock?" John spat. "You know all there is to know about me, you can read me like a book but you honestly think I would leave you?" he was definitely angry. "Sherlock I'm never leaving you until you order me away, I-" he sighed, gripping the edge of the sofa, a tear rolling down his nose. "You are everything to me Sherlock, I lo -" he stopped again, taking a deep breath. "I- I love y-" Sherlock pressed his lips against Johns, holding the man's face in his hands, running his thumbs across his cheeks, catching the tears that had escaped. John slumped against the sofa, Sherlock pushing himself against the doctor. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist, sliding his fingertips beneath the waistband of his trousers. Sherlock slid his hands down John's body, snaking his hand up John's fuzzy jumper, stroking below the man's bellybutton, John letting out a gasp, trying to wriggle away, but Sherlock pushed himself against John, thrusting is tongue against John's lips, asking permission. John's lips parted, letting out a moan as Sherlock's tongue slid in his mouth, his fingers gripping the hem of his purple shirt.
John pushed Sherlock away suddenly, shuffling to the end of the sofa, blushing. Sherlock looked at him, confused, tilting his head to the side. John panted, pulling his jumper down, stretching the fabric.
"S – Someone might come in." John was blushing, trying to hide the evidence of his arousal with his jumper, stuttering when he spoke. The detective smiled, standing up and walking over to the mantelpiece, grabbing the deerstalker hat off his skull, marching to the door and placed the hat on the outside of the handle, shutting the door.
"There, no one will walk in now." John stared at Sherlock, the man was a little flustered, and his purple shirt was pulled tight against his body, his hair ruffled, John bit his lip, looking away quickly, blushing even more. Sherlock ran his fingers through his hair; this situation was different for the both of them, he rattled his brain for an idea to make it more comfortable for them both.
Sherlock walked over to the sofa, sitting beside John, he placed himself at the other side of the sofa, lying down, closing his eyes, relaxing. He felt John move, crawling up to Sherlock, almost straddling him.
"Sherlock?"
"Mhm?"
"What are you doing?" John asked. Sherlock swallowed, feeling John over his groin as he sat back, straddling him, the doctor's hands on his chest as his fingertips gripped the silk fabric slightly, feeling Sherlock's toned chest.
"You'd be able to see more and feel more if my shirt was off," Sherlock offered, hinting, trying to be subtle, but suggestive of what he wanted, it was what John wanted, despite his attempt at hiding it. Sherlock waited patiently, sneaking a peek at John, who was bright red, his tongue darted out, wetting his lips; he was obviously going to need a little more encouragement.
The detective slid his hand along John's thigh, sliding it under John's jumper, stroking his side, doing the same with his other hand, pushing the jumper up John's body, wetting his own lips as more of John's body was exposed. He pulled John closer to him, their noses brushing, Sherlock craned his neck slightly and kissed the man who was now straddling his waist, pulling the jumper over John's head, breaking the kiss for barely a second, and discarding the jumper on the floor. He gripped John's muscular back as they kissed; the smaller man letting out a quiet moan as Sherlock slid his tongue into his mouth. John's fingers began to slowly unbutton Sherlock's shirt, shaking as he did. He pushed the silk fabric off his body, Sherlock shivered as their bodies touched, his trousers becoming increasingly tighter, especially as John was gently grinding against him, whether or not John was doing it intentionally was another thing, but it was driving Sherlock crazy, to the point he was almost losing his self control.
John's lips moved to Sherlock's neck, beginning to suck at the old love bite he had crated almost a week ago, nibbling at the delicate skin, Sherlock let out an involuntary moan, he'd never shared an intimate moment like this, it was foreign to him, almost scary, but it felt so right with John. John moved his hands from Sherlock's chest, sliding one of them between their bodies, stroking Sherlock through his trousers, causing Sherlock to gasp, but he didn't pull away, John, continued to trace his fingers around Sherlock's groin, the moans escaping from his throat encouraging John to continue. John's fingers worked at the button and zip of Sherlock's trousers, shuffling to the side so he could yank them off, the man lifting his hips to help John remove them.
John gazed down at Sherlock, who was now sprawled out on the empty sofa, the evidence of his arousal on full display for John to see, and he blushed, trying not to stare, Sherlock blushed too, embarrassed.
Sherlock sat up, reaching for the top of John's trousers, pulling at the waistband, planting a kiss on John's stomach. John was still, holding onto Sherlock's shoulders for support as the man began to undress him, at a painfully slow pace, Sherlock continued to kiss and suck at his stomach, leaving little red marks as he went. John moaned, digging his fingers into Sherlock's shoulders, half out of frustration and half out of pleasure. With a tug John's trousers slid down his legs, making pools around his ankles.
They were both silent, neither of them moving, Sherlock could feel John's fingers shaking on his shoulders, he slowly stood up, wrapping his arms around the smaller mans waist, their bodies pushed together, sending shivers down his spine. He lent down, kissing John, crushing his lips and body against John's. Sherlock slid his hands down the back of John's boxers, sliding them down, the man tensed, and Sherlock stopped, worried he had gone too far.
"May I?" he whispered, his voice heated with desire. John didn't say anything, but he dug his hands into Sherlock's underwear, pushing his boxers down, blushing when he looked up at Sherlock. Within seconds the two men were stripped, kissing in their living room naked. Sherlock fell back against the sofa, pulling John down on top on him.
"John?" the doctor looked at the man beneath him. "John, I love you." Now seemed as good a time as any to admit his feelings, although his feelings were pretty obvious. John lent down, kissing Sherlock.
"I love you too, so much." Both men froze, staring at each other; voices could be heard from the hallway, Mycroft's voice. "Do you think he'll come in?" John's heart was pounding. Sherlock smiled.
"If he does he's in for a surprise." They both laughed quietly. John reached for his jumper, pulling it over his body, throwing Sherlock a towel to wrap around his lower half; the detective fell against the sofa, raking his fingers through his hair.
"Quickly before he comes in!"
"Go away Mycroft! John and I are having an intimate moment!" Sherlock shouted, John squeaking as he said this, hissing at Sherlock. The detective quickly grabbed the towel, wrapping it around his body, watching as John stumbled into his trousers, bright red.
Mycroft laughed, half-heartedly as he opened the door, swinging the hat around his finger. John scurried into the kitchen, preparing some tea, to escape Mycroft deducing anything. John stared at his brother, even an idiot would be able to tell that Sherlock wasn't in the mood to see his.
"Is that why the hat was on the door handle?" Mycroft walked over to the mantelpiece, placing the hat back on the skull, turning to face Sherlock.
"Generally if a hat is on the handle of a door you do not enter it, I thought you might have remembered that from university." Mycroft raised his eyebrow, looking at Sherlock and then at John who was still running around the kitchen, doing anything to avoid been in the same room as Mycroft, it was too embarrassing. "You're wearing a new tie…or should I say new to you, Lestrade's tie if I'm correct," Sherlock said, standing, smiling to himself that he had been first to deduce something.
"Yes this tie belonged to Lestrade, he let me keep it."
"Was that before or after you slept with him?" there was a smash from the kitchen, the brothers turned just as John bent down to pick up the broken pieces of pottery.
"S-sorry…carry on," he said, blushing, Sherlock couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, looking back at Mycroft who was suddenly very uncomfortable. There were footsteps on the stairs and Lestrade walked in, smiling, stopping when the Holmes brothers turned and stared at him, Mycroft's expression softened, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
In that moment Sherlock realised that his brother had found someone who made him happy, he had never seen his brother smile genuinely like that, and now here he was smiling at the man he loved, the man who had melted his ice heart, just like John had melted his cold heart.
"Everything alright?" Lestrade asked, shuffling nervously.
"We were just discussing Mycroft's new tie." Sherlock watched Lestrade's expression, a small blush spread across the Inspector's cheeks, and he knew then that what he had deduced was definitely true. "Are you two doing anything special tonight? Wait – let me guess, Mycroft is going to take you to a private viewing at a cinema?"
"Very clever Sherlock, finished?" Mycroft was tense, clutching his umbrella.
"Almost." Sherlock smiled wickedly, turning to John, winking at him. "Are you staying for a drink, John is preparing some tea." Lestrade looked at Mycroft, who looked down at his watch.
"I suppose we have time for one cup."
"Indeed, sex can wait, twice in one day has to be exhausting." There was a snort from the kitchen; John was obviously enjoying Sherlock's little game.
"And what would you know of sex?" Mycroft was annoyed that Sherlock was having all the fun. Sherlock just pointed at the hat that was now on his skull.
"Hat on the door means do not enter, I'm having sex…" Mycroft looked up and down his brother, who was still stood wrapped in his towel, so Sherlock hadn't been joking about been with John in an intimate way.
"I see…" Mycroft closed his eyes, pressing his fingers to him temple, probably trying to remove the image of Sherlock and John in that way. "Greg, would you like to stay for a quick coffee?" Mycroft asked his lover. "Or are you in a hurry to lose your virginity Sherlock?" he turned to his brother, smiling. Sherlock took a deep breath, he hated these kinds of battles between them, who could piss who of the most, and Mycroft was winning this round.
"John, turn the kettle off, Greg and Mycroft are leaving."
"Pity, I was looking forward to coffee and cake." Mycroft said dryly. The Holmes boys stared at each other, John and Lestrade exchanged glances, both blushing, smiling to one another, as if to say congratulations, but neither of them said it out loud. John turned the kettle off, joining Sherlock, the man pulled John to his side, squeezing his backside, making John blush. "Greg and I should probably go; we have lots of stuff to do and so little time."
"Yes, get as much action in before you have something important to do." Mycroft huffed, grabbing the deerstalker hat.
"I'll put this on the door handle shall I?"
"Please." Mycroft and Lestrade left quickly, just as the towel around Sherlock dropped to the floor. John let out a sigh, falling back onto the sofa.
"What do we have to do to get a little bit of privacy?" John sighed, Sherlock deducing that he was sexually frustrated, smiling at the smaller man.
"Let's go away for a couple days, just you and me, get away from all this." John looked up at Sherlock in disbelief, it wasn't like Sherlock to suggest a holiday, his work was far too important to him.
"Are you serious?" John wanted to make sure Sherlock wants pulling his leg.
"John, I want to go away, just us two, where we can be alone together, where we can enjoy each other's company, without been interrupted; besides, I need a break." John just stared at Sherlock, letting out a laugh.
"Ok, where do you want to go?"
"How about we go to York, Yorkshire is lovely this time of year, and it's been a long time since I went there." John agreed, smiling, suddenly giddy. "Leave tomorrow?" John leaned up and kissed Sherlock.
"Tomorrow is perfect." John pulled his jumper off, throwing it on the sofa. "Shower?" Sherlock agreed, both mean heading to the bathroom.
"Can I undress you?" Sherlock asked, wrapping his arms around John, undoing his trousers as he hugged him, John allowed Sherlock to remove his trousers and the man smiled when he realised John had gone commando, kissing the his neck. "The hat is on the door you know…we could always try again…" John turned in Sherlock's arms, pecking the man on the lips.
"Maybe." John was playing hard to get and he felt utterly stupid, sauntering into the bathroom, nodding for Sherlock to follow him. "Can you wait another day?" John asked as he turned the shower on.
"Another day for what?" Sherlock asked, confused, leaning against the door.
"You know…" John blushed, not wanting to say the words. Sherlock caught onto what John was on about when he saw the blush begin to stain his cheeks. Sherlock kissed the back of John neck.
"Of course I can wait." Sherlock began to suck at the back of John's neck, listening to the soft moans that were been created by the man in front of him. At this rate Sherlock was going to have John in the shower. "John…I don't think I'll be able to wait if you keep moaning like that." Sherlock muttered, sliding his hand up the inside of John thigh, nibbling at the lobe of his ear as he did. "John…can I?"
"Please." John moaned; Sherlock pulled John into the shower, pushing him against the cool tile wall of the shower.
This is what he wanted, more than anything; he wanted to consummate their relationship.
(Hope you like it) x