Thanks to my beta, Teek, for keeping the story going, and to johnsarmylady for keeping it British.

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. Nor, I'm sure, does anyone think I do.

New posting day: Fridays!


Chapter Excerpt: Sherlock had parked a short distance from the foot of Cladh Cailleach. They pitched the two-man tent next to the car, and then Sherlock unrolled their queen-sized sleeping bag. It took up the entire floor of the tent, effectively turning the structure into one big bed. John laughed. "That's subtle," he smirked.


At the very end of the initial month of training, Sherlock presented John with a new timetable. It no longer included rock wall practice, and it showed even longer daily hikes than before. Most exciting to John was that it featured at least three days a week, and eventually four, of real mountain climbing in Scotland.

Training Schedule, month two (Early December to early January)
Monday to Thursday
06:00 — wake up
07:00 — breakfast
08:00 — 15 to 20-mile hike wearing weighted backpacks.
13:00 — lunch
14:00 — BSCC administrative work with Greg and Sherlock
16:00 — study high-altitude medicine
20:00 — dinner
21:00 — crap telly, snogging on couch, etc.
22:00 — bed
Thursday or Friday to Sunday Scotland

But the first time John looked at the new timetable, his brow furrowed. "Where did the sex go?"

"The old schedule was too restrictive. I decided that we should endeavour to be more spontaneous," Sherlock said, as he unzipped John's jeans.

~~~/~~~

Sherlock chartered a small private jet to get them to Scotland on weekends, because he felt that the 6-hour-plus drive there and back wasted a ridiculous amount of time that could be spent climbing (or fooling around in their tent).

He had already explained that their first trip would be to a relatively small hill for the purpose of teaching John how to utilize his ice axe to stop himself from sliding in case of a fall, a technique that could save his life and the lives of anyone who might be roped to him at the time.

John felt he was holding Sherlock back, though. He suspected that the mountaineer would probably be training on Ben Nevis, at 4,400 feet the highest mountain in Scotland, if not for having to look after a neophyte. He said something of the sort to Sherlock.

"John, no time spent in the mountains is ever wasted. You'll see."

They had reserved a 4x4 Land Rover at the airport car rental office for the trip to the hill chosen by Sherlock as the perfect place for John to start. Sherlock being Sherlock, he was unable to give up control (anywhere but in bed, John thought with a smirk), so he drove.

They didn't talk much until they got out of Glasgow, but they did look at each other and smile from time to time. John was content watching the stark but beautiful scenery passing by outside the passenger window.

Sherlock's thoughts were on the hotel room he had reserved for them Sunday night. This first time out would be especially taxing for John, and the hotel stay would give him a short respite before they jumped right back into the schedule. They hadn't taken much in the way of time off since they had started training a month earlier.

When the traffic lessened to the point where they were one of the only cars on the road, Sherlock suddenly said, "I'm looking forward to Sunday night at the hotel. I read that hotel sex is supposed to be extremely uninhibited compared to sex at home."

John smiled affectionately, imagining Sherlock methodically googling hotel sex. "I haven't noticed that anything has ever inhibited you, Sherlock. Not even Greg's presence in the flat. Me, I'm actually looking forward to the tent sex. And I'm sorry it won't be cold enough to need our extreme-weather snowsuits in Scotland, because I want to know how we're going to have sex while wearing those bulky monstrosities."

"We'll have to figure it out together then, because I've not done that before either. I've never been with anyone on a mountain. It would be too distracting."

John frowned. "Then what about me, this season? And the queen-size sleeping bag?"

"You are not a distraction, John; you are as necessary to me as oxygen."

John swallowed hard and shifted around uncomfortably in his seat. This was as close as Sherlock had ever come to a declaration of love, and John found it extremely arousing.

Sherlock smirked down at John's lap. "Do you want to hold onto that thought, John, or should I pull over and…."

"Oh God, yes, pull over," John choked out. Sherlock drove off-road and parked behind a particularly thick stand of trees.

The back seat was full of mountaineering equipment so they had to make do in the front seat, gearstick notwithstanding. Sherlock managed to coax the most amazing orgasm out of John by whispering, "as necessary to me as oxygen," when he felt that John was close. After that, John barely touched Sherlock and he came with a great shout. All in all, it was a most satisfactory detour.

John cleaned them up with the wet wipes brought along for the camping trip. He'd known the wipes would be used for this purpose (among many others), but hadn't expected it would happen quite so soon.

And Sherlock displayed the smug smile he often wore after sex. John was still here.

John fell asleep soon after they got underway again. Now and then Sherlock glanced briefly towards the man in the passenger seat. How John always managed to make him lose his self-control, Sherlock could not understand. He didn't think he'd ever come from just one touch before.

John did not stir until the car stopped moving, when he awoke with a start and looked around, rubbing his eyes with his fists in a manner most endearing to Sherlock.

"What hill is this, now? It looks very small," he said, somewhat chagrined. There were actually much higher peaks scattered all around.

"It's called Sgùrr an Cladh Cailleach, the Hill of the Witches' Grave. It is small, but it is also somewhat obscure, and I doubt we shall have any competition for using it. I wrote to the farmer whose land we needed to cross to get here. He granted us permission to drive through his property, and even to camp there if we wished. But I think we'll just set up right here. We're going to get more than enough activity this weekend without needing to add hikes back and forth."

"Hill of the Witches' Grave, eh? Well, let's get started on my first climb outside of the rock wall facility." Sherlock smiled a bit at the idea of calling this a "climb" but John was so excited he didn't have the heart to point out that it was really nothing more than a demanding hill walk.

Sherlock had parked a short distance from the foot of Cladh Cailleach. They pitched the two-man tent next to the car, and then Sherlock unrolled their queen-sized sleeping bag. It took up the entire floor of the tent, effectively turning the structure into one big bed. John laughed. "That's subtle," he smirked.

"There's no way we are going to use two sleeping bags and waste perfectly good body heat…and other opportunities," Sherlock replied. He smiled mischievously. "Would you care to try it out right now?"

"Not if you expect me to learn anything today," John groaned. "I can't believe you're even thinking about sex so soon after that bit earlier — talk about spontaneous!"

"Our first car sex," Sherlock said brightly, and John smiled fondly at him.

They started up the snowy slope. John soon realised it was challenging enough for his first time. Sherlock taught him how to walk in snow using the spike at the bottom of his ice axe for support when necessary, although of course the snow on Cladh Cailleach was nowhere near as deep as that which they were going to encounter on Everest. When they got about three-quarters of the way up, Sherlock looked behind them and nodded. "This is a good spot. The snow cover is perfect for sliding and there's a gradual run-out — no big rocks or sharp drops that could hurt you in case you aren't able to arrest quickly enough."

Sherlock made sure John put on his eye protection and helmet."But what about my crampons?" John wondered. "Wouldn't I be wearing them on Everest?"

"Crampons are never worn to practice self-arrest, John. You will need to raise your feet off the ground as part of the procedure, but in the beginning it won't be second nature to you. If the tip of one of the crampons were to catch in the ground, you could go cartwheeling. Chances are you'd be seriously hurt, even on this gentle slope." John was more than a little disappointed because he had wanted to try out all his new equipment at once!

Although self-arrest was a deadly serious subject, it was fun to practice. John spent a lot of time hurling himself into the snow and sliding down the sloping north face of Cladh Cailleach. Then Sherlock yelled "Self-arrest! Self-arrest!" exactly as climbers do when someone slips in the mountains, and John jammed the pick of his ice axe into the hillside to bring himself to a stop. They practiced how to self-arrest on the stomach with the feet pointing down the hill first. It was the easiest form to learn, since that was already the correct position in which to end the technique. John picked up the skill easily enough.

They trudged down the hill for lunch by the tent, where they made some sandwiches out of the enormous amount of food Mrs. Hudson had packed for their first climbing weekend. ("I'm not your housekeeper, dearies, but just this once….") After lunch they went back up the hill and Sherlock taught John how to self-arrest a headfirst slip on the stomach — the object being to twist around until the feet are pointing down the hill. Finally Sherlock pronounced himself satisfied for the day and they plodded back to the tent, where they made up dinner from Mrs. Hudson's hamper as well. They snogged for a bit, then they christened the sleeping bag and slept deeply and peacefully.

On Saturday they went all the way to the top of the hill, and John learned how to torque himself into the proper final position no matter how he fell when he started to slide. By noon Sunday, Sherlock said John looked as though he'd been born with the ability. Then they struck camp and drove to the hotel where they had their reservation. Sherlock got to have hotel sex — several times, in fact. He pronounced it quite acceptable, with the added advantage that they didn't have to change and wash the sheets themselves afterwards. John burst into happy laughter, and although Sherlock wasn't sure what he'd said that was all that funny, a ripple of pleasure fluttered deep in his chest. He thought he would give a lot to coax that sound out of John more often.

"As if you ever change and wash the sheets!?" Still laughing, John tackled Sherlock and threw him down on the bed, where they wrestled a bit for control. Sherlock managed to end up on top and eventually he was able to coax other, even more wonderful sounds out of John.

Hotel sex. Amazing!

They flew back in the chartered jet late Monday morning and on Tuesday resumed the training schedule for Month Two.

The following weekend they drove from the airport to Beinn an Fhir Bhrèige, a hill with an intriguing name which Sherlock said meant the Ridge of the False Man. At nearly 3,500 feet, Fhir Bhrèige was many times taller than the one on which they had practiced self-arresting. Here they could also do technical climbing, which John already knew encompassed at the very least the use of crampons and an ice axe. This would give him the ability to handle competently the three basics necessary for a safe climb from Base Camp to the summit and back: the belay and self-arrest techniques, and eventually even crevasse self-rescue (for the practice of which, fortunately, an actual crevasse would not be needed). In their tent at night, Sherlock had John practice friction hitch knots by the light of the lantern hanging from the loop at the top-center of the tent's ceiling. With his gloves on, exactly the way it would probably happen at altitude. "The repercussions of a poorly tied knot, John, will be felt not only by you — for example, in self-rescue — but by everyone who might ever be on a rope with you." The knots were not difficult to learn, but Sherlock assured him that they would be vital in many emergency situations. The hitch knot can slide and grip: when weighted it grips the climbing rope, and depending on which hitch is used, with the weight released it can easily be slipped up or down, allowing the climber to safely get to the bottom or the top of the rope. John could see how safety would be much desired when dangling at the end of a rope in a crevasse measuring ten stories deep.

There were six separate routes to the top of Fhir Bhrèige, each one having slightly different features perfect for the practice of the various climbing techniques, and Sherlock took John up each route over the weeks to come. He taught John how to traverse, which basically means climbing by moving horizontally across a mountain or rock face rather than straight up, and he made sure John still remembered how to rappel, a skill which the former soldier had of course already learned during his basic training in the army. The practice of crevasse rescue was fascinating but completely exhausting, and John certainly got to put his friction hitches to use. Sherlock wanted John to practice ascending a rope as if he had fallen into a wide crevasse and needed to haul himself out without any help from above. It was nerve-racking work, swinging from the rope and painstakingly forming the hitches needed to allow him to pull himself up, but when John reached the ledge and Sherlock leaned forward to guide him up and over the lip, he felt like there was nothing on earth he couldn't handle.

It was especially galvanizing to John to be able to practice the belay technique on a mountain instead of a rock wall. In the gym they had practiced falling while roped, but on Fhir Bhrèige, they tried their hardest not to fall, whether on or off belay. Spending time roped together was another sort of shared intimacy: when John heard Sherlock call out "On belay," it meant to him that he was now holding Sherlock's life in his hands, and as he replied, "Belay on," he swore fiercely to himself that he would never, ever let Sherlock fall. As for Sherlock, sentiment or not, he had never felt such a connection to anyone through the rope as he did with John, not even Greg, his long-time climbing partner.

John very much looked forward to the weekends in Scotland. If it weren't for the various administrative duties that kept them at Baker Street at least part of the week, John thought he'd be happy to spend an entire month with Sherlock on the hills and ridges of Scotland. And each night when they fell into each other's arms in the double sleeping bag, John had to heartily agree with Sherlock's assessment that no time in the mountains is ever wasted.


Author's Notes

General:

I am SO not a climber! I get mountain sick just driving around in mountains, and sometimes simply watching instruction videos makes me a bit dizzy.

To clarify one term: traverse has quite a few meanings when applied to mountain climbing, but the two most common are: 1) to climb in a horizontal direction, and 2) to go up the mountain using a different route than when descending.

About Scotland:

Scotland is the most mountainous country in the UK and is truly a wonderful place to learn to mountaineering, because it has everything from summer scrambles to technical rock to demanding winter climbs (this last is the feature John and Sherlock are taking advantage of).

Mountain names in Scotland are usually given in Gaidhlig (Scottish Gaelic). The conveniently deserted and easy-to drive-to peaks that Sherlock and John use here are totally fictional. Their Gaidhlig names and translations were suggested to me by a Scottish friend. Thanks, Séumas!

Sgùrr an Cladh Cailleach, the Hill of the Witches Grave, is pronounced
Skurr an klye callyach (ch as in loch)

Beinn an Fhir Bhrèige , the Ridge of the False Man, is pronounced
Fair an eer vraygah

Self-arrest, belay, crevasse rescue:

FFn readers, if you're interested in what self-arresting with an ice axe actually looks like, there is a six-minute video on YouTube I recommend. You can find it by going over there and searching "ice axe arrest / self arrest Glenmore Lodge". It's worth checking into just to hear the lovely accent of the presenter.

Belay is a climbing term that denotes the act of securing a rope to safeguard one's companions as they climb. There are videos on YouTube of how to belay as well, but the subject is so complex, I decided to just try to describe it very, very generally and hope that satisfies.

Crevasse rescue is thoroughly covered on YouTube as well. Most of the videos are quite long and involved, as hauling yourself (self-rescue) or an injured, fallen climber out of a crevasse is an enormous amount of work.