Disclaimer: I wish, but I don't own it.
Chapter 7- Wishing Well
Three days had passed since John returned to 221B Baker Street. He and Sherlock weren't walking on eggshells around each other anymore but things weren't really back to normal either. He remembered everything that had happened when he initially got home.
One day later John opened the door to their flat. He would have stayed away the full two days because he really just needed some time but he didn't want to think of what Sherlock would be up to or the state of the flat if left unchecked that long.
Sherlock was in his chair when he came in, oddly still and silent. Grey eyes flicked toward him before glancing away.
"Hullo, Sherlock."
A pale hand twitched and then clenched on the arm of the sofa. "You came back."
John sighed, "Of course I did, I said I would didn't I?"
John didn't get an answer, just another side-glance. He was still angry, really angry, but Sherlock was looking at him as if he expected him to rip his heart out and stomp on it; as if he expected to be disappointed. John sighed and the taut ball of vexation inside him loosened up.
He moved toward the taller man before resting his forward against Sherlock's, "What am I to do with you?"
"Stay."
"I plan to. Sometimes I just need some space for both our sakes. I seem to have quite a temper."
"The intention of my–"
"Please don't. I'd rather not talk about this right now, it's still a bit sore."
"You're not going to let me explain." Sherlock's voice was flat.
John shook his head, "I am. Just not right now. Three days, Sherlock, that's all I ask. We have a lot to talk about but I want us both to be coherent when we do it. It's not just yesterday; I need to know your hang-ups and your limits, how far you're willing to go, and everything that you need. We have a lot of talking to do and I'm in no state to do it now. So in three days we'll go out on a date, do something enjoyable, and hash it out. Is that okay with you?"
Curls bobbed on the brunet head as he nodded.
He lightly brushed his lips over Sherlock's, repeatedly, until the man stopped holding himself rigid. Just enough to let Sherlock know that he wasn't going anywhere and that their problems were fixable.
"Good. Have you eaten?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"Alright, I'll take care of that right now." John straightened up and headed to the kitchen.
It was now the day of their date and John had to stop himself from pacing. Sherlock had insisted on taking care of all the details and John was stuck somewhere between dread and excitement. Sherlock was brilliant and was one of the people that knew him well but he wasn't the most considerate at times. That meant the date would either be extraordinary or completely terrible.
Sherlock came into the room and John stood up.
"It wasn't my intention to hurt you with my actions, I just didn't want you to leave."
"So we're going to do this right now?"
Sherlock nodded.
John sighed and sat back down, gesturing to the seat beside him, "Alright. It hurt that you thought I could take you when that wasn't completely what you wanted; that you were willing to let me rape you. I love you and that would have damaged you and destroyed me."
"John, what happened when I needed the drugs and what happened with you was consensual; I agreed."
"You agreed then because you were suffering from withdrawal and didn't have a choice, that's duress, and even now you flinch and are uncomfortable with sex. You may have agreed but you weren't a participant and they hurt and didn't take care of you. It may not be the dictionary definition but that's rape."
"Alright, I may not have found what they did pleasurable but I ran out of ideas that were feasible, John. I didn't seem to be doing anything right and I needed you to stay. I tried to make myself appealing to you but it didn't work because you don't desire me, or at least not enough. I was willing to try sex again with you."
"Sherlock, I want you and you are appealing but I do have self-control. We probably wouldn't even be together now had I not pushed. I just don't ever want to be associated with them in your mind. I didn't want to be someone else that hurt you like that. You also agreed with me because you wanted me to stay, are you seeing the similarities I'm drawing between the two here? It's still coercion of a sort."
"No, it's not. You make me do a lot of things I don't want to be doing, eating and not taking drugs being prime examples, but sex is not one of them. Yes, I expect it to hurt– it's hurt in the past and it will probably still hurt with you regardless– but I do expect you to make it bearable."
"And you should expect more than just bearable or slightly painful with me. You're always hurting yourself. Is there something more that you need, something I'm not seeing? Am I missing something?"
"You take care of me better than anyone else ever has but you also know how uneventful daily life is for me, being surrounded by idiots. A hint of danger or risk, sometimes even pain, makes things infinitely more interesting. It makes everything else worth it."
John ran a hand through his hair, frowned, "Sherlock, I just need to know one thing. Did you agree to have sex with me so I could hurt you or because you expected it to hurt?"
"No! You're still not getting it, John! You refuse to see me beyond some broken person that was violated and because of that refuse to do anything with me but you won't let me do anything I enjoy."
"And I suppose you enjoy taking drugs and putting yourself in danger?"
"So what if I do, John? We all have bad habits– you shoot the people out to hurt me and have control issues and I put myself in harms way, it seems to be a perfect match."
"I made those limits because I need you alive. Everybody dies eventually but I won't be losing you to something that can be prevented. All of them are reasonable when it comes to you. I'm not trying to stifle you."
"But you're not giving me everything I need either and you gave me your word. I don't hurt myself: no drugs, no hiding injuries, no running off on my own, no not eating, and no cheating and in return you give me everything. This is not everything. How am I supposed to stop thinking that sex is painful and unpleasant if you won't give me better memories of the act? If there's anyone that could change my view on it, it's you."
"Are you making that a challenge?"
"If that's what I have to do, John," Sherlock looked at him and he could tell the other man was reading him. "You don't completely trust me."
John was momentarily confused. "With your health? No. I don't trust anyone but me with that."
"No. With sex, you don't want to give me that last piece of you because you're afraid there will be nothing left."
John fought to keep his facial expression neutral. Sometimes Sherlock was disconcerting, he managed to get things that you hadn't even thought of before yet was so clueless when it came to some emotions. "And why would that matter?"
"You don't want me to leave. You don't trust that another Moriarty won't come along and take me away and thus don't trust me."
Leave it to Sherlock to hit the mark. "You're right. I love you but I don't think you'd stay if something more arresting came along and then I'd be left with nothing– there is nothing for me after you but the same doesn't apply for you. However, that doesn't mean when that time comes I wouldn't let you go, I'm not going to keep you somewhere you don't want to be."
"I left because he was going to kill you along with Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson."
"And you let me think you were dead for three years. That doesn't exactly inspire faith. You watched me go to your grave for years and grieve, you should have told me."
"I'm sorry."
John laughed, "No you're not."
Sherlock shrugged, "You lived. We've had this argument before."
"I know and my position still won't change."
"Even if something more engaging comes along– though that's highly doubtful– I won't leave you again. You can come with me."
John smiled. "Okay. We ready to go then?"
The brunet raised an eyebrow as if to say 'do you really think you're pulling one over? On me?' before asking, "Are you willing to give sex with me a try?
"Yes. One last thing though. Now that we're going to give sex a try, is there anything you are not willing to do or don't want done to you? Any hang-ups besides the obvious?"
"No restraints."
John looked up at him and Sherlock shook his head. Okay, he could leave this alone, for now. "Anything else?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then we'll figure it out as we go along."
Sherlock stood up and grabbed his hand. "We will. I believe we're ready to go now."
-/-/-/
Sherlock was gloating. John would have said that it wasn't an attractive look on him but everything was.
John looked around the exotic flower garden. "What gave you this idea?"
"There's something here for both of us. Flowers aren't just for females. I thought you'd be interested in the wide range of plants since you appreciate nature and most of these aren't native to England. In addition, you're the type of person that has the patience for growing greenery– you've dealt with me for years, after all. For me, perhaps one of these flowers will show up in a case, they also have poisonous and dangerous plant life that we'll get to see after hours since the owner owes me a favour."
"Did we get in here for free, Sherlock?"
Sherlock shook his head and started pulling John down a path, "No. I paid since we're on a date. You'll also get to bring home a few plants and try your hand at growing them, if you'd like. They have seedlings or seeds if you want to plant them yourself."
John pulled Sherlock into a semi-private spot and kissed him soundly. He hadn't thought that Sherlock would have been that thoughtful when he panned the date. "Thank you."
The brunet smirked at him. "Thank me when it's over."
-/-/-/
Sherlock pouted, "I still think you should have gotten the castor bean."
"I'd rather not have you try your hand at making poison with the seeds, thank you."
The pout didn't waver. "All you're bringing home are herbs. Boring."
"We don't even have the optimal growing conditions for a castor bean plant, it needs heat and humidity and sunshine."
"We could provide the optimal growing conditions, that's what AC is for and there are certain types of synthetic lights that imitate sunshine or would give the plant enough light."
John ran a finger down the inside of Sherlock's arm after folding up his sleeves and watched the man shiver. "Look at you, you're skin is like milk. While I could handle that change of temperature, I doubt you could. It would be uncomfortable for you."
"Comfort rarely matters, you've seen some of my experiments."
"It's not the same, this one would be more long term."
"I could do it," Sherlock stubbornly stated.
"Well, I'll be the one taking care of them so I suppose it doesn't matter. Your taste buds will thank me eventually for the plants I chose. Now, what are we going to eat?"
-/-/-/
John and Sherlock entered the flat, door slamming behind them. They kicked off their shoes and John pulled Sherlock into a kiss. "Thanks for the evening, it was lovely. I was actually starting to doubt that you could be that thoughtful."
The tall man kissed him back, nipping at his lips. "Silence, I'm brilliant. Of course I knew you well enough to organize a successful date."
"Yeah, except forgetting to plan the food bit."
"We had breakfast and lunch. Missing one meal wouldn't have killed you. Besides you know that eating only slows down the mind, though perhaps that doesn't apply to you. It all worked out anyway, we managed to get a free meal."
"Because the waitress spilled your drink on me," John deadpanned.
"You were flirting with me. I merely helped by telling you exactly what you could do with me when we got home if you really wanted to thank me."
"While she was passing, which resulted in your drink getting spilled on me."
"Mmhmm. And no one's ever worn sparkling water so well."
They took off their coats and hung them on the rack.
Sherlock looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "What do you plan to do with me now, Dr. Watson?"
No time like the present. "Strip."
The other man actually stumbled, "What?"
John was amused. "You seemed to have no problem taking off your clothes the other day. Strip, and you'll see what I plan to do with you."
John had never seen clothes taken off petulantly but Sherlock managed to make that look sexy too.
When the other male had all that beautiful, pale skin exposed, John made his way over and lightly mapped it with his hands. "You have skin made for marking, so prettily pale." He bit over the mark that was already on Sherlock's pectoral, felt him shudder under his mouth.
"I think I'll start with a blowjob," John dropped to his knees and Sherlock wheezed.
John may not have ever given a blowjob in his life but he was a damn good doctor so he was sure he could figure out how to make it good. He started with Sherlock's angular hips, nipping at the sharp slant of his bones down to the softer skin of his thighs while running his hands up Sherlock's ribs. He made his way back up to the curly thatch of pubic hair, nuzzling at the marks he had just left.
The brunet was uttering little sounds, half gasps- half moans, and long fingers carded through his sandy hair before gripping. John took that as a sign to get to it. He ran his nose up the slim, erect, pink cock, tongue flicking little licks against it before he swallowed as much as he could.
Sherlock made a sharp noise and he found himself gagging when those hips thrust deeper in his mouth.
"John," Sherlock moaned and thrust again, continuing to choke him.
John clutched Sherlock's hips and pulled back, coughing. He looked up and assessed the younger man. Dilated pupils, flushed skin, heavy breathing. Beautiful. John had caused that, not some case or anything else. It was a good look on Sherlock.
"John?"
"You're mine."
"And you're mine."
"What you are is too coherent." John pushed Sherlock down onto the couch and started blowing him again.
John parted the pale man's long legs and pressed his hips down with one hand. When he was certain that Sherlock wouldn't be choking him again he started sucking. His other hand moved downward to caress the brunet's balls, rolling them gently in his hand. Sherlock's legs wrapped around his back, squeezing in time to anything he liked while he emitted a constant stream of sound.
John hummed, trying what he liked when girls gave him blowjobs. Sherlock's body jerked like he had touched a live wire to it. He pulled back so only the head was in his mouth and played with the slit while his hand moved from Sherlock's balls and started stroking the rest of his cock. He licked lightly at Sherlock's frenulum, running his tongue over the place where his head meet his shaft and Sherlock's legs tightened around him as the sounds got louder.
John let the head slip out of his mouth, shaking off Sherlock's clutching fingers and licked his way to the base of the other man's penis. He licked at where the base connected to Sherlock's balls and around it while his free hand lightly stroked the crease of the brunet's testes.
Sherlock grabbed at him, "John, John."
John looked up, concerned, and Sherlock was cumming. The brunet's body arched, even as his eyes rolled back, and his legs tightened around his back. Sherlock shivered, body spasming, as one hand clenched at the couch arm and the other held onto him. When the orgasm was over Sherlock went limp on the couch, legs falling onto the floor with a sigh. John wanted to kiss the breath back into him.
He tried but Sherlock pushed him away with an annoyed moan, before his arm flopped back onto the couch. John settled for a kiss on the cheek, forehead, eyelids, and jaw. "You are magnificent."
Sherlock smiled.
A/N: And another chapter down. This was supposed to go up two days ago but life got in the way so I apologize. Please leave a review to let me know what you think. I'd also like to thank everyone for all the wonderful reviews, alerts, and favourites last chapter. We've passed the 10,000 word mark!
