Chapter 15: Titles

Captain Holmes all but drags John back to the captain's quarters once they are alone again. He actually locks his newly refurbished door and shoves John up against hard. They have a go at each other's mouths with teeth and tongues. Sherlock stops John with an arm across his neck and lets his hand wander down to John's belt. His deft fingers find the little silver button and it slides to the floor. He laps at John's mouth and kisses him with an intensity John never remembers experiencing before. John cannot control the groan that escapes from between his lips before Sherlock dives in again with his tongue at full tilt.

The captain shoves John's trousers down and there he is, on his knees, his around John's cock. John's orgasm rocks through his body before he barely has time to think about what is happening. The captain stands up and wipes his mouth with one hand and John is almost hard again that quickly. John takes a deep breath and grabs the other man by the arm, leading him to his bed. He then proceeds to return the favor and they fall into a deep sleep in each others' arms.

John opens his eyes two hours later and the first thing he sees is a mass of black curls. He tilts his head down and just inhales the other man's spicy, musky scent and something else that he is sure the product he uses to tame down his hair. He wraps his arms around the lean shoulders and lies there enjoying the closeness. His mind wanders and he closes his eyes, not to sleep, but just to reflect on this new thing that he's found. He would have never believed that he would have ended up here after all this time. It's been a very long time since he was able to just let another person rest against his chest and relax against the sound of his heartbeat. It is a heady feeling.

He is brought out of his daydream a few moments later when Sherlock stirs. He lazily kisses John's mouth and rolls off of him, headed in the direction of the loo. John waits his turn and then follows when the captain comes back out of the little room, still stark naked. As he brushes past, the captain runs his hand across John's muscular chest. He does not say a word, but it isn't necessary. All John has to do is look in the other man's eyes and the answer is right there.

When he steps back into the bed chamber, Sherlock is laid out on the bed, flat on his back with his legs and arms spread wide. John thinks that he looks good enough to eat so he flops down right on top of him. Sherlock's arms circle his waist and his mouth engulfs John's. Sherlock digs his fingers into John's buttocks and John returns the action, digging one hand into Sherlock's scalp and the other into his shoulder blade. He alternately nips, sucks and bites the skin on the captain's neck until purple love bites stand out in stark contrast to his skin. The only sounds the captain makes are small moans and breathy sighs.

John is absolutely amazed to find that he is completely aroused and ready for round two. This time it's rough. When he grabs Sherlock's hands and pins them above his head with one hand and the captain lets out a cock-busting moan, John loses himself completely in the lean, trembling body underneath him. He bites a line from Sherlock's neck and down his chest, stopping to whip his tongue around each nipple. Sherlock moans and writhes, his thighs gripping John's hips. John can feel the pull and tug of every muscle in the captain's legs. It's obvious at this point that they both want the same thing.

When John finally breaches Sherlock with his cock, he has to stop for a time and collect himself and try to clear his hazy vision. It keeps him from slamming into the man for all he's worth. The thought is soon banished, however, when the captain's back arches off the bed and his strong fingers leave bruises on John's hips and buttocks. They are completely drunk on the feel of their bodies. John thinks this is one of the most remarkably intense things he's ever done before slowly pushing into the tight heat as strong needy fingers bruise and pull at him.

John makes some incoherent mumbles and snaps his hips. By the time they both come, they are sweating and breathing like they have run twenty laps. John pulls out carefully and then drops his head down on the captain's chest, his arms quivering from the strain of holding himself up. Sherlock holds onto him like a drowning man, his legs still tightly in place around John's waist. He is as wrapped up around John as it is possible for one person to be around another and still allow them both the ability to respire. He does not say anything coherent just groans and stretches underneath John who rolls off of him slowly. Sherlock allows his legs to just drop to the bed with a thump. John lies on his side and puts one arm around the captain's chest and once again succumbs to sleep; it's his turn to relish in the sound of a steady heartbeat. A little worry nags him in the back of his mind but he quashes it, telling himself that they will talk soon.

"John."

"John."

"Sherlock?" John rolls over to find the captain standing by the bed, one hand on his shoulder.

"Dinner?" Sherlock leans himself down far enough to stare into John's face. John reaches up with one hand and wipes his eyes. The captain is still naked but smells very clean and fresh as if he had just showered. John reaches up to his forehead and grabs a curl between his thumb and forefinger. The hair is soft, silky and rather damp.

"Starving." He sits up and gets off the bed. "Just let me take a shower."

The captain is uncharacteristically quiet when he answers "Alright. I'll order. We can eat here."

When John finishes his shower, he is greeted with the smell of something delicious wafting through the door. He reaches out to the towel rack and pulls a pair of soft black yoga trousers off of the shelf which naturally fit him like a glove. No point in putting on a shirt when he is positive that the captain is most likely starkers.

Upon entering the sitting area, however, he's glad he chose the trousers over the buff. The captain sits in one chair with a tray on his lap, which is covered by a thick blue towel that hangs down to his knees. The Admiral has planted himself in the chair next to his brother. He has nothing in his lap but his hands. The two of them are pointedly not looking at each other. John considers them for a moment, sees another silver covered tray on the side table and decides that it is not his argument to get into. He pulls up another chair and tucks into a large ham and cheese sandwich.

After a time, the Admiral takes his leave, somehow locking the door back behind him. It does not look to John as if they have accomplished anything, but Sherlock has uncovered his tray and is starting in on his own meal. They eat in companionable silence until the captain stands up and carefully places his tray on the chair he just vacated. It is when he is again sitting on his knees in front of John that John feels that now is the time to talk. He sets his tray down in the floor beside his chair and pulls Sherlock into him by the shoulders. This time their touches are soft and caressing. The captain finally rocks back on his heels and John takes his chance.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John hopes that he doesn't sound too wishy-washy, but he wants to express that he is concerned.

Sherlock shakes his head and leans into John's chest. John runs a hand over his forehead, through his hair and down his back before he gets a reply. "I think that I am sad, John."

John frowns a little. Oh. "Ah. About Sam. That was a wonderful thing that you did for him, though."

"I wanted everyone to see how much he meant to me." The captain does not elaborate.

John waits patiently. By now he knows that the captain is not going to say anymore than he wants to and not before he's ready.

"I always wait until it's too late." The captain's voice is strong in its conviction. John has nothing to go on, so he falls back on silence. John continues to rub his back and wonders how Sherlock's current position can be in any way comfortable. He has long since lost his towel.

"I want to do something for you, too, John. I want to give you honor and a title. I want to show how much you mean to me before it's too late."

John is caught off guard but quickly regains his composure. "Captain, you know that I am probably helplessly falling for you, but I'm not sure we are quite ready for such a step…"

Sherlock interrupts him by sitting back and dropping his butt to the floor. He crosses his legs, looking like he is about to enter deep meditation with his palms up and arms resting on his arms. He looks up at John, his green eyes soft and clear.

"Eventually, I am sure." John's heart jumps into his throat. "But that is not what I mean at this point. I gave Charlie and Bruce titles, they are both Ensigns now. It meant so much to them to finally being accepted for all these years of loyalty. But you…"

"Sherlock, I don't expect it. I don't need IA recognition to prove my loyalty to you."

"It was so fast, was it not, John?" The captain states the unusual in such a simple matter, there is nothing for John to argue.

"Aye Captain, it was." He nods to Sherlock. There really isn't anything else he can say. It's the most unusual thing to have ever happened to him as well as the most pleasing, promising and wonderful. He feels like he could dive into Sherlock's eyes. It would probably feel like walking through the Time Gate naked and blindfolded.

"My brother said the same thing about our relationship. I tried to tell him that time was irrelevant. When you know, you know." Sherlock says in an off-hand manner. John is absolutely gobsmacked. What a way to say you fell for someone the second you laid eyes on them! At least now he understood the completely unspoken argument that was happening whilst he showered.

John's brain is spinning. All he can reply is: "That was amazing, Sherlock."

Sherlock's eyes narrow slightly, the only reaction to the compliment apparent on his features. "So I have thought of another solution. I don't believe with your history that you would accept a military title, am I wrong?" He cocks an eyebrow.

John thought about that for a minute as he watches Sherlock's mouth. Sherlock is absolutely correct. There were some things that it simply just hurt to think about right now. He nodded.

"I thought so. Would you accept Ambassador?" Sherlock bit his bottom lip but never broke their eye contact.

"Ambassador John Watson?" John liked the way it sounded in his mouth. "Ambassador to what exactly?"

Sherlock actually laughs out loud. "Ambassador from me to the rest of the universe, John." He rolls his eyes and John giggles. He holds John's feet in his hands, slowly caressing his arches and ankles.

"No. That's ridiculous." John smiles.

"Actually, the whole title is some silly thing like Ambassador of the Interplanetary Alliance for Further Exploration of the Time Gate and Best Lover to Captain Holmes in the Universe."

John starts laughing. "I can believe the parts up until you get past the Time Gate, but the rest is a bit premature!" He had not had a good laugh in quite some time and it was even better when Sherlock joined in. John gently falls forward until he's in the captain's lap, facing him, his dinner forgotten. They are both still laughing when they start kissing, taking advantage of the moment.

When they finally fall back into the captain's bed a couple of hours later, all tangled in each other, John's clothes and personal effects had been delivered to the captain's room in an effort to expedite their journey next day.

The Admiral slowly closes the door. Part of him wants to just let Sherlock be happy for a time, but there is so much at stake and these two are possibly the last hope.

Chapter 16: History

Captain Holmes and the newly-named Ambassador Watson stand calmly next to each other regarding the Time Gate coolly as the bright white light from their transport dissipates around them. Professor Royburn is safely ensconced in his lab on the Neo-Tethys, monitoring their signals.

In silence, they clasp hands and move forward up the trio of steps to the portal. They step over the threshold as one and find themselves back in the stone lobby. This time no one approaches them out of curiosity or malice. John shakes his head lightly to clear his mind of the images sent to him by the portal. The images are getting weaker each time he has approached the device, but they still have some sting behind them. The captain has been through the Time Gate enough times now that it is always the same. John fully trusts him to get them through this in one piece.

When they awoke wrapped in each others' arms a few hours ago, Sherlock had taken the time to explain just who he thought was behind the most recent murders. John had been a bit surprised and was still finding himself pondering the situation. All they had to do now was track down the perpetrators and then they could move on.

Of course, things like that always sound much simpler than they really are, John thought to himself as he follows the captain down a corridor. They pass through a door and find themselves standing on the same hillside they had been on before. Juno II looks much as it did, if anything the bazaar is busier. As they walk side-by-side following a trail that winds around the hillside, the captain starts talking.

"John, the original purpose of the Time Gate was to give beings the ability to move from other planets and times for study; so naturally, someone found a way to exploit it."

"Yeah, I remember that. It cost more than what my parents paid for their home to purchase an eight-hour ticket."

"Correct." Sherlock is six years younger than John, so he doesn't remember it as clearly, though he has years of study on his side. "It was after it was opened up for 'public' use, which we both know really meant the ultra-rich, that the first Travelers came through."

They wind down the path and John stumbles a little on a rocky patch, going down on one knee. Sherlock reaches out for his arm and helps steady him. John brushes off his trousers and they continue their hike.

"Yeah, I remember the Travelers. It's thanks to them that the only family I have still living is my sister." John says with a rough tone in his voice.

Sherlock studies him for a few seconds. John has never really spoken of his family before. He is seriously interested, but they have more immediate things to discuss right now. "Yes. It was with the second wave of the Travelers when the scientists discovered a big problem with that alien race."

They are finally down the hill. Sherlock drops down into an exceptionally green patch of grass beside the trail and makes himself comfortable. John follows suit. It is a rather nice day here and it's been ages since he's been able to just sit and enjoy some sunshine, even if it does come from dual suns.

"You have to understand the way humans were feeling in the late 23rd century. They were ecstatic. People on Earth had finally put their weapons down and it was a time of posterity, just like what the century before had been for this planet." He gestures around them.

"Humans finally understood that they were all part of the same family and that there was only one race on the planet: Homo sapiens. Why it took so long is probably the nature of the species. They accepted that people would make mistakes, that there would be disagreements and two people may never see the same thing in the same way." With this, he holds out a hand to John. John takes it. "Apparently, we are really lucky, John. A few centuries ago and you and I would have been persecuted for something this simple." He raises their hands to his lips and places a soft kiss on the back of John's hand.

He continues. "When people finally had real proof that the aliens they had dreamed of for so long were in fact real, there was a time of celebrating. I have been told that people even climbed to the tops of the tallest buildings in the biggest cities with banners and all sorts of flags and signs and had 'welcome' parties. I've seen videos of some of the celebrations and they were occasionally very wild." John snickers; he remembers watching some of those during long history lectures in grade school. Everyone thought they were ridiculous, aliens and humans alike.

"So, as you know, the majority of the earliest alien races to make contact with humanity were genuinely interested in peaceful relations with our species. They were also those who were the most similar to humans in their biology and physiology. In typical human fashion, the aliens were just known as "Aliens" and humans just "humans," though there were many similar races of both species. The Aliens often had technology that humans had only dreamt of and humans were able to teach them a myriad of skills, such as farming the soil, and much simpler things such as this." He holds their hands up again, but he's not talking about sex directly. He is talking about the healing power of touch.

"Most of the races had advanced so far technologically and so quickly that they left some of the more mundane creature comforts behind. When they came to Earth, they rediscovered what they had been missing. Some of them fell in love with humans and settled on the planet. New laws were created and more acceptances took place. My own mother is a third-generation hybrid."

John nodded and then looked up into the captain's face. That explained the glow of the poisoned knife blade. He also thought that might explain what the Telom tried to tell him before he managed to knock her out. He really didn't care what family tree Sherlock came from. It did not matter, it would never matter to him.

"It was good, though. It was a tradeoff. We all taught each other something. Sure, there were still disagreements between peoples and countries, but things were changing. People stopped seeing themselves as part of a single world and more as part of a universe. It was the most life-changing event for humans since the advent of the Internet and the discovery of a worldwide community, not just a local one." He sits back and uncrosses his legs, leaning back on his arms. John mirrors his position as he watches a winged insect bob up and down between some white flowers not far from where they are sitting.

Sherlock is gazing out into the distance but John knows his mind is probably even farther away. "The Travelers were the first alien race to appear hostile to the humans and other Aliens. And of course, they did not appear until after the Time Gate was invented, built, experimented on and then finally opened. The Time Gate was invented by humans and aliens alike and was supposed to have been a way to study the past so that we could all learn about the future.

The truth of it, however, turns out that it actually reads what some beings want and supplies it for them. There are very few beings, John, who can use it for its intended purpose. You, Professor Royburn and I are three of them."

John thinks it over. He well remembers the first images the portal had shown him, including the hot scene with Sherlock and the antique motorbike. "It even shows you images that you could desire, though you may not even be aware of it."

"Correct. Some of what you saw that first day were probably images of things you didn't even know you wanted, though many of them were certainly from your past."

John nods and sits up, crossing his legs. "It also reminded me of the alien wars: the ones that occurred after the Traveler's appeared. It was during that time that I enlisted, thinking we were fighting for universal peace and freedom."

The captain waits patiently to see if John is going to add to his statement. John is silent, however, so Sherlock goes on with the lesson. "So it was that when the second wave of Travelers came through the portal—and there were thousands of them-that over half of them died before ever getting out of the lobby, though some lasted until they entered the room where the Time Gate was housed. They were weak and some were hideously deformed. Some of the scientists died within minutes, some of them lasted hours, at least one lived an entire day afterward, but it was at that point that they tried to shut the Time Gate down."

John finishes the sentence, "and that's when the first war started."

"Yes. The war started with the Tyots figured out how to bottle up the disease that was killing the Travelers and pass it through our universe. They felt that they were being cut out of the wealth of our universe by the closing of the Time Gate. The question, of course, is why only they, of all the races that had come before and would come later, took it so personally."

The captain stands and knocks some of the dirt off of his glossy boots. They start back down the trail, walking a bit slower this time so Sherlock can talk. He uses his hands as much as his voice and John is halfway hypnotized. "The Tyots basically said 'screw all of you, we want our cut' and at that point, some of the other nasty species were sent through while the portal was unguarded. It was unguarded because there was so much clean-up to be done after the last wave of Travelers. Things just went downhill from there." John closes his eyes against the memory of a huge bird and reptile-like alien scaling the side of an apartment building. He gains control of himself rapidly. His job is to protect the captain, not fall apart at the seams. There will be time for this later.

They have arrived at the bazaar. Sherlock is once again moving through the haphazard aisles of wares and stalls, his head moving from side to side slowly as he scans faces. John rolls his shoulders a little, glad that he remembered to drop his little weapon in his trouser pocket before they left the Neo-Tethys.