Hello everyone! Happy Tuesday! While I had the time I thought I'd update this. Then it's back to regular fiction writing instead of fanfiction.
InvisibleBlade: Sherlock
Me: John, Harry, Mrs Watson, Mr Watson
Warnings for this chapter: blow jobs, mind/memory manipulation, secret hand jobs in public, personality manipulation, vomiting, angst
'I apologise for what just happened,' Sherlock said quietly as he entered John's dream.
'Me too,' John blushed, sitting cross-legged in the grass. 'I never meant for it to go that far. I... That was the first sexual thing I've ever done with someone else. Other than in dreams of course, but those don't count.'
Sherlock sat next to John and gently rested his head against his shoulder. 'You're something quite remarkable to affect me like you do, John Hamish Watson.'
'Thanks, I think,' John laughed softly. 'I just don't want anyone to find out. I'd hate for you to get grounded.'
'Then they don't have to find out,' Sherlock said gently, nuzzling at John's neck.
John moaned softly and arched his neck back. 'Are we... Are we gonna start one of those secret sexual experiment things?'
'Interested?' Sherlock asked softly, kissing John's neck. He knew it was wrong, illegal even. But then, why did it feel so right? Why did John make him feel this way? John moaned again and nodded, spreading his legs slightly to accommodate his growing erection. He knew if they were ever found out Sherlock would be grounded and possibly killed. As for himself? He didn't know. His family would disown him, he'd be labeled as a gay Winger for the rest of his life, and his entire future would be thrown away.
But he didn't care. He cared about Sherlock, he was an excellent angel, his excellent angel, and he knew they could end the experimentation whenever they wanted. So he agreed and he found his lips on Sherlock's in a soft yet awkward first kiss.
Sherlock froze as John kissed him tenderly. It felt nice to be kissed. His wings flapped in excitement as his heartrate skyrocketed. John hummed softly and pulled Sherlock a little closer, the angel's wings ruffling his hair. He slowly reached up and cupped Sherlock's face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over Sherlock's cheeks. Sherlock moved so he was straddling John's lap and finally broke the kiss.
'Wow,' he breathed. 'Just... wow.'
'That was... nice,' John said softly, holding Sherlock close. 'I can't wait to try it in real life. When we're both awake.'
'Mmm. Me too,' Sherlock hummed, chewing on his lower lip nervously. 'There are other things we can try out whilst we're here, you know.' He rocked on John's lap and went back to kissing him.
'I–' John started but Sherlock was already kissing him. He instantly melted at the tenderness and growled, actually growled, when it became heated and almost passionate. He rocked against Sherlock on his lap and moaned into the kiss, poking his tongue out and prodding at Sherlock's lips.
'Shall we take this to bed?' Sherlock purred loudly.
'I-I'm not ready to go that far.' John blushed deeply and looked away. 'Even in my... other dreams... I've never gone that far. I... I'm not ready.'
'OK,' Sherlock nodded. 'I understand. I'm fearful of it too.' He went back to kissing John and rocking on his lap.
'We – uh! – we can – fuck! – would you suck me off? Like I did you? Could you try?'
'Mmm. I can try. I still think we need a bed in that case. Just to make things a little more comfortable.'
'Yes. Bed. OK,' John panted, placing them on a plush bed, already naked. John spread his legs wide as Sherlock knelt between them, quivering from nerves and anticipation. Sherlock leaned in and hummed, lapping at the head of John's cock nervously.
'Oh Sherlock,' John moaned, rocking up a little. 'Oh, that's good. That's really good. Mmm.'
Encouraged, Sherlock lapped faster before swallowing John's cock in one swift motion. John cried out and grasped the bed sheets tightly, trying his damnedest not to thrust into Sherlock's mouth lest he hurt him. Sherlock began bobbing his head frantically, hollowing out his cheeks and slurping greedily at John's member. John whimpered and took big gasping breaths as Sherlock pleasured him. He wasn't gonna last long at this rate.
'Sherlock... Gonna cum,' he gasped out in warning. Sherlock growled and hollowed his cheeks, his wings moving to brush past John's bollocks. John gasped sharply and thrust his hips up, the touch sending him over the edge with a harsh cry of Sherlock's name. Sherlock swallowed all John gave and released him. He licked his lips, frowning slightly. He couldn't decide whether he liked the taste of it or not. John collapsed against the bed, panting like he'd just run a marathon. Holy fuck. Holy fuck that was amazing. And had Sherlock really swallowed all that?
'You didn't... didn't have to swallow,' he panted, turning to see Sherlock mulling something over. 'I would've been fine if ya... if ya spit or just let me cum all over myself.'
'It was the most logical thing to do.' Sherlock shrugged and climbed up John, resting his head on his chest and humming. 'The turn of events between us certainly are peculiar, considering we both hated each other at the beginning.'
'Yes. Quite strange and unexpected. Though I think it's mostly because I feel guilty about making you fly into that tree. Maybe this is my idea of an apology? A rather erotic and illegal apology too.'
'It doesn't matter either way. All I know is this is the happiest I've felt in a long time. I really needed this.'
'Yeah. I'm feeling pretty damn happy too,' John smiled goofily. He hummed and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Sherlock in a tender hug.
'You know, we should wake up,' Sherlock sighed softly. He didn't want to leave. Not just yet. 'I'm naked in your bed. God forbid if someone walked in on that.'
'Yeah, I know,' John hummed, smoothing a hand through Sherlock's hair. 'And we will. Soon. Just not right now.'
'Mmm. What are you doing tomorrow? I was thinking I could finally test out my wings.' His wings fluttered excitably and he smiled against John's chest.
'Tomorrow?' John poked around in his head. 'Tomorrow is Sunday, so I have to go to church with my family in the morning. Then we have lunch with my aunt after church. And usually after that we come home and do whatever. So, anytime after lunch I'm free. And then Monday I have to go to school. Winter Holiday is over tomorrow basically.'
'You could go to church,' Sherlock smirked, 'which I know you don't really want to go to. Or you could be with me completing an angel ritual. Which would you rather be doing, hmmm?'
'An angel ritual?' John opened his eyes and looked down at Sherlock. 'Hell yeah I want to help you do that! My mum will let me skip church for that no problem!'
Sherlock chuckled darkly and kissed John tenderly on the lips. 'I thought you would. You're not squeamish are you? It involves a little blood.'
'Nope. Not squeamish. I'm gonna be a doctor. It would be a terrible career choice if I was squeamish. What's the ritual, if I may–'
John was ripped from the dream when his sister wrenched him out of bed, slapping him across the face until he woke up.
'What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!' she hissed, holding him up close to her face. 'I come to get you up for lunch and I find you in bed with your angel! Your naked angel, mind you. What the fuck is going on here?! Are you a Winger? A gay Winger?'
John opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words. Thankfully, Sherlock did. Sherlock stood to his feet, pulled John out of his sister's grip, and grabbed Harriet firmly. He leaned forwards and hissed down her ear in the ancient language of his people. He watched in satisfaction as she crumbled to the ground with an audible thud.
'She won't remember a thing,' Sherlock said, sounding smug. 'Now, may I have some clothes before anyone else raises suspicion?'
'Right. Clothes. Yeah.' John rushed into his bathroom and scooped up Sherlock's clothes from the floor. He went back and stepped over his sister, giving Sherlock his clothes. Sherlock thanked John and quickly got dressed. Harry stirred and sat up, holding her head. She looked up at Sherlock, fully dressed, and her brother, getting dressed.
'Oh, good, you're up,' she said, standing and wobbling slightly. 'And your angel's here too. Mum sent me up to get you ready for lunch seeing as you slept through breakfast. And I suppose your angel is welcome to join us if he wants.'
'Thank you, Harriet.' Sherlock watched as she left and breathed out in relief. He quickly pounced on John, shoving him against a wall and smothering his lips with his own. John moaned loudly and wrapped his legs around Sherlock's waist, his hands tangling in his hair. He devoured Sherlock's lips, nipping at them and flicking his tongue out to taste them.
'Morning.' Sherlock pulled away as quickly as he had pounced John, smiling broadly.
'Morning,' John replied breathlessly, smiling goofily.
'Come on. Breakfast.' Sherlock smirked and began walking to the kitchen, John trailing after him.
'Lunch,' John corrected him, still smiling like an idiot. 'Think you've worked up an appetite after all we did?'
'I believe I have, yes,' Sherlock laughed lightly.
'Good,' John laughed. 'Me too.' He went into the kitchen and kissed his mum on the cheek.
'Sorry for missing breakfast,' he apologised. 'I was up late researching angels.'
'It's fine dear,' she smiled, kissing his cheek in return. 'Oh. And Sherlock's here too. How are your wings, dear?'
Sherlock smiled chirpily. 'They are far better today, Mrs Watson. I was thinking of going out for a fly later, if the weather of London so allows.'
'Oh good,' she smiled brightly. 'Glad to hear it. Will you be having lunch with us today?'
'Yes, Mrs Watson,' he smiled hugely. 'I'm in a good mood today so I'll be eating more than my usual intake.'
'Oh? Well, good,' she smiled softly. 'Jonathan, why don't you set the table? Harriet, is your father still watching TV?'
'Yes, Mum,' both kids answered. John set to work setting the table for lunch while Harry set about trying to pry their father away from the TV.
'You're super good looking from this angle,' Sherlock whispered behind John.
'Thanks,' John blushed, wiggling his arse a bit.
'Come to think of it. You're super good looking from all angles,' Sherlock mused.
'Even better,' John purred softly. 'You are too. Super good looking. Gorgeous even. Damn. Maybe I am gay.'
'You gave me a blow job and you're questioning your sexuality?' Sherlock hissed sarcastically.
'Of course I am,' John hissed back. 'What if this is just a phase? Humans go through them all the time.'
'A phase?' Sherlock spluttered. 'A bloody phase?' He sat down at the kitchen table with a loud huff. John sighed and sat down the plates he'd been carrying. He moved over to Sherlock and kissed his cheek gently.
'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'I've just never done this before and I'm scared. I'm scared of both of us getting hurt, scared of getting caught, and scared of getting you grounded. I'm sorry. Seems I'm trying to push you away already.'
'It's OK,' Sherlock smiled weakly. 'I'm scared of all those things too. I just... I really like you.'
'Oh. Well, I suppose I really like you too,' John said softly. 'And I'd like to kiss you again. Just not here. After lunch. We can go out and you can fly and we can find somewhere private to snog.'
'Mmm. That sounds nice,' Sherlock smiled softly. 'Then the angel ritual I tried to tell you about.'
'Right. We'll be doing that tomorrow. What's the ritual?'
'We exchange blood. No big deal really.'
'For, like, a bonding ritual thing?'
'Yes, a bonding ritual thing,' Sherlock smiled softly.
'OK. No problem then. You can explain it fully later. It's time for lunch now.' He finished setting the table just as his father trudged into the room and sat at the head of the table.
'Ah, Mr Holmes,' he said when he saw Sherlock sitting at the table. 'Come to join us I see. Did your meeting with your brother go well?'
'Yes. Quite well, thank you. He was just giving me a briefing on my duty to John.' Sherlock tensed slightly and forced a smile across his face.
'Ah. I see. Giving you instructions on how to properly guard your human. How long has he been guarding his human now? Going on twenty years now hasn't it?'
'I believe so, yes. He's the guardian of Gregory Lestrade, a D.I at Scotland Yard.'
'Ah. Well, good for him. I've heard good things about that Lestrade fellow. A good detective.'
'OK everyone,' Mrs Watson smiled, bringing a large pot of soup out and setting it in the middle of the table. 'Soup's on. Oh, and the bread too.' She dashed back and grabbed the bread, placing it next to her husband.
'Scott, would you say grace, please?' Mr Holmes nodded and held his hands out for John and Harry to take. Harry clasped his and took her mum's hand, John taking Sherlock's, everyone bowing their heads. Mrs Watson held a hand out for Sherlock and smiled gently. Sherlock gently took Mrs Watson's hand and bowed his head out of respect. Mr Watson began saying a typical prayer. John wasn't really paying attention. He was focusing on the warmth of Sherlock's hand and how it sent sparks flying through his body. He squeezed it gently and smiled when Sherlock squeezed back. He managed to say 'Amen' at least when the prayer was finished and everyone started dishing up the soup.
Sherlock let his hands fall back into place. One snaked down and squeezed John's thigh. John grinned and slowly moved Sherlock's hand up until it cupped his hardening cock, rocking against it subtly. Thankfully the tablecloth covered it, otherwise John never would have risked it. Sherlock ate two bowls of soup, something he probably shouldn't have done as he wasn't used to eating so much and was now a little green around the gills. The only consolation was that he was groping John roughly under the table.
John managed to eat a whole bowl of soup without exposing what Sherlock was doing to him. He was touching him enough to keep him erect but not enough to make him cum. But Sherlock accidentally squeezed him a little too hard and John let out a small gasp, grasping Sherlock's wrist so he would let go. Mr Watson turned his sharp gaze to John, noting how flushed he looked. He flared his nostrils and glared at the boy.
'What are you doing, Jonathan?' he asked, growling.
'Nothing, sir,' John swallowed. 'Soup was a bit too hot is all.'
'But you ate all your soup. What are you–' He glanced at John's hands shoved beneath the tablecloth. 'Are you touching yourself at the table?!'
'No, sir! No! I would never–'
'I will not tolerate my boy tainting our eating place with such a filthy action!' he roared, standing up and advancing toward John. 'I won't tolerate it!' He raised his hand to strike John and the boy cowered in his seat, bracing for the hit. Sherlock, seeing what was about to happen, stood to his feet and grabbed Mr Watson's hand in a death grip.
'You will not hit John. You will not hit anyone ever again. Is that understood?'
Mr Watson growled at Sherlock before his face fell compliant, his gaze softening.
'Of course. Yes. Of course,' he nodded slowly. Mrs Watson watched in shock as her husband lowered his arm and sat back down as if nothing had ever happened. She looked to Sherlock, surprise, confusion, and relief swimming in her eyes.
'Sherlock, dear, did you... What did you do?' she asked softly.
'I believe I made an order and Mr Watson complied, miss,' Sherlock grinned.
'So... no more beatings?' she asked, lowering her hands away from her mouth.
'No. I do believe he's learnt his lesson. Haven't you, sir?'
'Yes. No more hitting,' Mr Watson nodded.
'Thank you,' Mrs Watson breathed out in relief. John squeezed Sherlock's hand and mouthed, 'Harry.'
Sherlock nodded and mouthed, 'Later.' He wasn't going to mention how much it drained an angel to change something so large about a person's personality. Feeling weak and suffering from a belly ache from eating far too much for his small stomach, Sherlock stood to his feet.
'I apologise. May I leave the table?'
'Yes, of course,' Mrs Watson said, waving him off. 'We'll be here.'
'Sherlock,' John whispered, still clutching his hand. 'Are you OK? Can I come with you?'
'It's fine, John,' Sherlock faked a smile. 'Eat. I know you're hungry.' He turned around and fled for John's room.
John watched Sherlock run upstairs, frowning. He knew there was something going on with Sherlock. He just hoped he wasn't ill. He sat back down and ate another bowl of soup, the family having a peaceful meal for the first time in, well, ever.
Sherlock found himself by John's toilet, throwing up violently into it. Yup. Food was disgusting. He flushed the loo and hobbled out to John's bed, collapsing onto it with sheer exhaustion and falling into his nightmare of a dream world, hoping dearly John wouldn't come looking for him.
They all heard the loo flush but no one dared mention it. They finished their meal and John and Harry cleared the table. Mr Watson plopped in front of the TV again and fell asleep in the chair, Harry went to hang out with some friends, and John helped his mum do the dishes. He figured he would give Sherlock some time alone and recharge. He looked dead beat after fixing his father, and a bit green from eating all that food. Well, at least he'd know better for next time. He figured on giving Sherlock a couple hours rest before he woke him to go enjoy the cold January day, maybe get some flying in, and hopefully some snog time too. He hummed as he dried the last of the dishes and his mum joined in. When they finished John ventured upstairs to grab a book he would need to finish for school on Monday. Sherlock was passed out on his bed, his wings stretched out completely, dragging on the floor. John smiled and moved around them, not wanting to disturb Sherlock. He got his book and returned downstairs, sat on the sofa, and began to read.
Sherlock tossed and turned in his sleep, his dreams particularly troubling now. He clutched his belly, which still pained him greatly, and he mumbled in his sleep, begging for John. John finished his book and hour and a half later. Whether he retained any of what he read was up to his brain. He planned on skimming it again tomorrow. He waited another ten minutes before going back upstairs to check on Sherlock. But as he walked up the stairs he heard sounds of distress coming from his room. He rushed to his door and threw it open. Sherlock was tossing and turning on his bed, whimpering and calling out to John in his sleep. John dropped his book and rushed to Sherlock, gripping him tightly by the shoulders and shaking him.
'Sherlock! Sherlock, I'm here! Wake up! Wake up!'
'I can't! I can't get out! Not this time! I'm trapped!'
'Trapped? Trapped how? What can I do?'
'Nothing,' Sherlock whimpered weakly before falling silent.
Sherlock will be OK. He's just being a drama queen. Though he's kind of stuck in his nightmare, he'll escape with some help. So don't worry too much about him. He's going to be fine.
I'm not sure when I'm going to update again unfortunately. I've got a lot of "real" writing to do for school and reading to catch up on. It probably won't be until after my birthday (which is the 14th).
So, until we update again, bye!
TSA + IB
