Chapter 7: Dinner
In the cab, Sherlock kept John close even though he knew the man's fear had already dissipated. He kept on kissing John's forehead to let him know that he was there, that he would always be there. John was grateful for Sherlock's attention, his clear, loving care in the face of John's own distress. He finally relaxed, dispelling all thoughts of Moriarty and focusing only on his love.
Once they arrived, Sherlock handed the cabbie some cash and got out to open the door for John without even waiting for the change. He took John's arm in his own, and they proceeded to the restaurant as the door was opened by a man in a very smart suit. "Reservation for Mycroft Holmes, please." John held tight to Sherlock as they were led into the restaurant, through dimly lit tables to a back room where Mycroft and Greg were waiting, snogging.
Exasperated, Sherlock coughed to let his dear brother and his lover know that they were actually there. "Good evening." John couldn't hide his laughter as the two sprung apart, flushed from exertion. John pulled out Sherlock's chair for him before sitting himself. He waited until John settled by his side before searching for his hand and squeezing it. "For the record, that was disgusting."
"And watching the two of you from the sidewalk of Baker Street wasn't?" Mycroft looked vaguely triumphant.
"You watched, brother," Sherlock replied. "You were actually interested."
John was mortified that Mycroft had seen him taking Sherlock apart like that but not as embarrassed as Greg apparently; the DI knocked over his glass, spilling water everywhere. Chuckling, Sherlock handed him a spare table napkin, helping with the flow. "Don't worry, Lestrade, he already has thoughts of shagging you against his desk. Just be sure to be quiet because you'll both be sent out if you make too much noise."
"Anyway-" Mycroft cleared his throat to change the subject as Lestrade blushed and glared at the detective, but Sherlock was on a roll.
Seeing to it that the spill was gone, Sherlock's predatory smirk widened while he clutched John's hand tighter. "Or maybe," he teased, "Lestrade here will invite brother dearest to his own office, and make love to him while his idiotic colleagues are eavesdropping. Anderson would be superbly horrified."
John snorted water all over his plate, choking as he inhaled some.
"Your kiss really seemed dedicated though," he went on. "Mycroft was actually suckling more than he can handle. Such a sight to see. Mummy would have been teary-eyed."
John was crying, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes as he struggled to regain control. "So-sorry," he gasped. "Sherlock forgot to take his meds today." He tried to elbow Sherlock in the ribs, just barely grazing them as the detective dodged. Biting his lip, Sherlock decided that it was time to stop, especially with the horrified look on Mycroft's face. "All right. So, have you ordered?"
Mycroft nodded, not speaking to his brother, instead addressing John. "Has he told you all the details of his new job?"
John nodded. "You really intend to keep him from me on the weekends?" He snuck a look at Sherlock.
All the while, Sherlock observed Lestrade, who seemed helpless and a bit embarrassed at the things he had just said, keeping very quiet in case the teasing started up again. Perfect. "I have a deal to make, brother."
"What would that be?" Mycroft refused to look at Sherlock, clearly trying to comfort Lestrade under the table.
"I won't make...ah...embarrassing comments anymore..." he smirked as his quick eyes darted to the space between the people on his opposite side. Hand squeezing: boring. Hand job would have been a better solution.
"If? Come now Sherlock, clearly your deal has conditions."
Kissing John's cheek to show that he had not forgotten his doctor, Sherlock stared straight into his brother's eyes. "If you somehow let John in at the Head Office."
Mycroft raised an eyebrow. "Any particular reason for your request? Although your promise to drop the teasing is tempting, it will be very difficult for you to maintain it for any length of time."
"You know that I always make an effort to keep my promises," he grinned. "And since John is involved, I'd be sure to not break it. Oh, and I also will help Lestrade here once in a while if you agree."
Mycroft considered, then nodded. "I'm sure I can find a place for John. Are you searching for employment for your husband or just visitor's privileges?"
"Depends on him, but any would do. Just as long as he can stay with me when I'm needed for longer than a day." A kiss on John's hand, and Sherlock smiled.
John's heart soared; Sherlock grew more considerate every moment they were together.
Leaning back, Sherlock tipped his hand and called for a waiter. "All in your hands, Mycroft. I'll even treat you a cake tonight."
"Done." John could tell Mycroft was trying not to sound too eager, but the politician failed spectacularly. "Careful, Lestrade, your boyfriend's so sweet you may end up with cavities if you snog him long enough"
Trying to not laugh loudly lest the other customers be horrified, Sherlock was pleased with his husband's retort. Now that was beautifully done. As the waiter arrived, Sherlock instructed:
"Give me your largest cake, and make it as a take-away. We'll get it when we leave. Charge it to me." He handed the man his credit card and saluted his brother.
John found himself very turned on by Sherlock in that moment, smiling at his love, stroking the palm of his hand very lightly with one finger. Sherlock knew that John needed him, and yet he couldn't be of help because of dinner. He squeezed the man's hand apologetically, meaning to convey I'll make it up to you later, promise.
John nodded, turning his attention to the appetizers as they arrived. After the initial awkwardness of everything, conversation opened up with food and drink. John fed Sherlock a good portion of his food because the detective kept refusing to eat, and both of them pretended not to notice when Mycroft and Greg started snogging again over a piece of pasta.
If this dinner were for Mycroft to show he and Lestrade really were together, then there was really no point to our attending it, Sherlock thought. And he and John hadn't come here just to watch those two snog. Their turn. "John," the detective whispered, suddenly pulling his husband close. John's heart pounded hard as Sherlock's lips closed over his, and he sighed, contented as the detective kissed him, losing himself in everything that was Sherlock.
As if drinking the wine off John's lips, Sherlock immensely deepened the kiss, showing his brother how a kiss really should be. John was breathless as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock, tasting the detective's dinner and drink on his lips, on his tongue. His hands went to those gorgeous, soft, midnight curls, stroking Sherlock's scalp, pulling him closer.
Breathing shakily through his nose, Sherlock tried to maintain the kiss until he desperately needed air. One last suckle, and he pulled away with a soft, wet sound and smirked at the other two who were flushing. "Lestrade's tongue is quite long," the curly-haired man shrugged. "I'm sure it can be put to more uses. Practice."
John snorted, laughing as he looked up at Sherlock and back at the two blushing men. How long had they been watching? He shot Greg a grin. "They learn fast, so feel free to experiment."
Taking in some pasta as if nothing had happened, Sherlock silently prodded his brother's foot underneath the table, telling him that he'd have to make a huge effort real soon. "'They,' John?" Sherlock chuckled. "Mycroft has had more experiences than I. I'm sure he can keep up more."
"Simply an observation about the two of you. I mean, when we started- I've never seen anyone learn that fast. I figured your brother is the same seeing as you can both tell whether or not I've slept, for how long, and what pajamas I wore."
"Mhm, but you're my teacher, so I'm sure everything just went well according to plan." He rubbed his nose against John's momentarily before licking it. "We should spend a weekend with these two."
"Do we have to?" John whispered, really just wanting to keep Sherlock for himself, blushing at Sherlock's compliment.
He wanted to feel John being protective and possessive, so, smirking further, Sherlock went on. "Maybe Lestrade here can teach me some more tricks. He does know how to tickle a the fancy of a Holmes."
John growled low, ignoring Greg and Mycroft' reactions; there was only Sherlock now. "You wouldn't dare..."
Licking his lips, Sherlock raised his eyebrows as he teased John again. "He is an inspector...I'm sure he had lots of experience too, right, brother? No offense, of course, love."
John grabbed Sherlock by the lapels, yanking him in so their lips were centimeters apart. "I was a soldier, traveled the globe, had quite a name for myself. I'm sure I have more experience."
"Really?" his husband egged on. "Even in different...ah, positions?"
That did it. John crashed their lips together, clearly proving to Sherlock just who he was married to and what he was capable of. He didn't intend to let the detective go until he was gasping for air or finally learned to breathe through his nose while kissing. Wonderful-just as he wanted it, too. Sherlock made this kiss rougher than he had ever done before, involving teeth all the time, and even tasting a hint of copper on John's lip. "I love it when you...g-get jealous..."
John tasted the blood too and growled again. "Want me jealous? You-got it"
"What if I kiss the Detective Inspector in here right now?" Sherlock smirked against their lips, eyes opening to look triumphantly at Mycroft, who was looking a bit horrified.
"You-wouldn't-dare. You wouldn't make it across the table. I wouldn't let you make it."
Sherlock pulled away with effort, only to grab Lestrade's lapels. "Look, husband. One step closer..."
John slapped Sherlock's hands and pulled him physically away from the table, slamming him into the wall. "Sorry, guys," he hissed, glaring at Sherlock, "My husband is really trying my patience tonight"
"Ooh, Inspector!" Sherlock teased, mimicking a girl. "I think we have to solve this at the loo, don't you think, darling mine?"
John bit Sherlock's neck, careful not to draw blood. "You. Are. Mine. Understand?"
"Of course, John. Might I make it up to you at the bathroom?" Turning to his companions, he grinned. "Excuse us for 15 minutes."
John was dragged through the restaurant to the bathroom where Sherlock shoved him in and locked the door. "The hell was that?"
Sherlock did not respond. Instead, he just kneeled on front of John and unzipped his trousers, making sure to only let his length out.
John gasped. "Oh-oh God-"
Sherlock looked up with innocent eyes, and he experimentally gave that manhood a small lick. John shuddered, staring into Sherlock's intense gaze, holding onto the sink for support.
"Don't me mad at me, John," Sherlock hummed while licking John's length.
"Kind of hard to stay mad right now." John watched as he grew hard under Sherlock's tongue.
"Good," was the last word Sherlock said before taking all of John in his mouth.
John groaned, now holding onto Sherlock's head for support, fingers tightening in the man's hair. "Oh-god-fuck!"
Humming so that the vibrating motions could send spikes of pleasure up and down John's spine, Sherlock doubled his efforts even though his knees were already on fire. John could barely hold himself up, Sherlock's tongue and humming taking him apart. "You're-fucking-amazing," John groaned.
Rubbing John's legs even though the fabric still shielded the proper feelings, Sherlock suckled and even let the head go through his throat.
"Ahhhh!" John's knees almost gave out as Sherlock began to deep throat him. "Jesus fuck," he swore, almost ready. "Sherlock-I-"
One huge suckle, and Sherlock prepared his mouth for the fireworks of John Watson.
John came with moans and whimpers, shuddering, tears leaking from his eyes in sheer bliss. When he was done, he let his legs give way and collapsed to the floor. Not wasting even a single drop of John's seeds, Sherlock swallowed them all, grinning at the exquisite taste. "I want to have a supply of that," he teased. John trembled in Sherlock's arms at the thought, resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder. "Jesus, what am I to do with you, huh?"
"Love me forever?" he suggested innocently while tucking back John's length inside his trousers.
"You know I already will."
Sherlock placed one last kiss on John's mouth before standing and offering his hand. "The boys are probably snogging again."
John groaned but smiled, letting the detective pull him up. "Yes, well you did just blow me in the loo, so they probably feel entitled." Then "Did you know the length of Greg's tongue just from observation?"
Keeping a stony face, Sherlock responded. "No, we kissed once, after I solved a crime. I think he was a great kisser. Mycroft's one lucky bastard."
John's grip tightened. "When?"
"When I thought that giving a joke this time was most appropriate," he winked.
"No, you sod. When did you kiss Lestrade?"
"I told you," Sherlock chuckled, "It was just a joke, John. I haven't kissed him. Yet."
John pushed Sherlock against the wall again. "You will not kiss him, you will never kiss him, and he will never be kissed by you. Got it, detective?"
"Got it," Sherlock laughed helplessly, kissing John's nose at the process. "And if Mycroft attempts to kiss you?"
"I'll knock him out. Sorry, but your brother does nothing for me."
Challenging John more, Sherlock smirked wider. "And if we kiss each other?"
"You and Mycroft? Ugh, Sherlock! That's just wrong."
"He's sexy," Sherlock chuckled. "And we do love each other very much..."
"You do realize if you keep on like this, we will sleep in separate rooms. For a month," John added. "No sex, no touching, no kissing. Cold turkey"
"Really, John?" Sherlock drawled as he kept his mouth impossibly close on John's mouth. "If you shut me out, then maybe I'd agree to have a threesome with my brother and that Inspector. Why, I could even kiss Mycroft after this..."
John kissed him hard, nicking Sherlock's lip and sucking on it to stop the bleeding before capturing Sherlock's tongue and working it over as if it were Sherlock's cock, keeping him firmly pressed against the wall the entire time.
"Mhmpff...John..." Sherlock moaned against their tug-of-lips, feeling very much overpowered by a provoked John. "All right...all ahh...right...no more teasing!"
"You-sure? Dunno if...I...trust you..."
"I'll let you handcuff me to the bed for one whole day if I break my promise."
"Might do it anyway, just to keep you for myself."
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock removed himself from John's grasp. "I'm all yours, sweetheart. I'm not daft to let go of you."
John nodded. "All right, all right. I forgive you I suppose, just don't tease me about that. I don't really have a sense of humor when it comes to losing you."
Kissing John's finger where the wedding band was, Sherlock smiled. "You'd never lose me, John."
Stroking Sherlock's face, John said, "We better get back. I'm starving again"
He nodded, and holding John's hand tightly in his own, they returned to their private room, only to see Lestrade straddling Mycroft, their cocks actually visible.
John pulled Sherlock back from the room, dragging him to the side. "Ummm, Sherlock?"
"Those two, daft men," Sherlock growled, knowing the sight of the private organs of the men he could consider as near-friends would forever scar his mind.
"What should we do?"
"Join them?" he smirked. "But not them, as in with them. Just us, but in their presence...?"
"You're going to scare the pants off of them."
"And they didn't?" he chuckled.
John grinned, thrilled Sherlock had taken his hint. He reached around his husband and rapped on the edge of the wall, clearing his throat. Smirking widely, Sherlock started to speak without even listening to the embarrassed words of the others. "Since you two so wonderfully showed to us your ah...behavior, we thought it best to join you."
John glanced in to see Mycroft and Greg struggling to disentangle themselves, and he fought to keep from laughing.
"No? You don't want us to...what's the phrase...Get off on this very memorable place?" he continued. "We are family, after all..."
"Shut up, Sherlock," Greg snapped.
"We are-ah-decent now," Mycroft called.
"No..." the tall, slender man continued, hands already unzipping his trousers. "Do continue. You two are going to be married anyway."
John grabbed Sherlock's hand. "Seriously, Sherlock? Put your trousers back on!"
Giving John a knowing smile, Sherlock continued pulling down his trousers, but not his boxers.
"We're in a public place!" John squeaked. "Sherlock!"
"But we're in a reserved room, John," Sherlock grinned. "These two did manage to be proud of their symbols..."
"Sherlock, I'm not getting off with you in front of your brother! His name may as well be a safeword!"
Sherlock hooked his finger on his boxers, attempting to pull it down. "I didn't know that you were gifted, Mycroft."
John grabbed Sherlock's wrist. "Don't. Please. That's private, and it's for just you and me, not for show."
Sherlock leaned down and whispered to John's ears. "I know, John. Look, they're dressing up again. So will I." He pulled his trousers up, and fixing them, grinned.
"You are impossible!" John smacked Sherlock's arm. "I really should punish you for this."
He kissed John's lips in apology. "So now, my dear men, you should actually go to the loo if you want to have a private moment. My John here gets upset."
Mycroft and Greg practically ran past John and Sherlock as the two sat down to resume their meal.
He rolled his eyes at the two. "It's not as if they were already eating each other out everywhere else."
"Sherlock! I'm trying to finish my dinner!"
Patting John's head, Sherlock decided not to keep his comments to himself for a bit.
"Thank you." John soon finished his meal, noticing Sherlock wasn't eating. "Come on, you have to eat something."
Sherlock prodded his plate of pasta before hesitantly eating some.
"Here, let me." John took Sherlock's fork and began to feed him, gently, kindly. "You're too thin. I worry about you."
Pouting a bit, Sherlock opened his mouth and bit in small pieces. "Food is for transport."
John groaned. "Yes, Sherlock, and yours is undernourished."
Sherlock sulked and didn't respond to John's words, but he tried his best to eat everything the other was giving him.
John made sure Sherlock ate at least most of his pasta and all his greens, watching the other carefully. "I love you, you know," he whispered, setting the fork down.
He nodded and stared at his meal. Of course he knew... he loved John with his whole heart as well. "So do I..." he mumbled.
"Sorry for forcing you to eat. I really do worry about how thin you are."
"I know it's for my health..." he mumbled, still refusing to look at John. "But sometimes...I just can't bear its taste."
"Why not?" Sherlock had never been this open with him about food before.
"It's all bland..." he murmured. "But sometimes, it's too sweet or sour or bitter, or a mixture of all. Which is disgusting."
"Is it ever not that?"
"Sometimes, yes..." he responded as he fiddled with his hands. "Which is why Mycroft doesn't try anymore. I eat when I'm hungry."
John nodded, taking Sherlock's hands in his own. "All right, then. I'll make sure we always have food, and you can eat when you want. Is there anything I can keep around you like?"
Glad that John understood him, Sherlock finally smiled. "Just some bread would do...bagels, croissants..."
"Carbs, got it. And some whipped cream? Chocolate?"
Chuckling now, Sherlock's eyes gleamed. "I think that you prefer that more."
"You never objected. And if I remember, you started everything with the cream, not me. I take full responsibility for the chocolate, though."
Rolling his eyes, the curly-haired man insisted. "The stewardess asked...and I was experimenting."
"You're always experimenting on me."
"Because you're pretty," Sherlock said, leaning for a kiss.
"You're gorgeous," John whispered against his husband's lips.
