A/N: It's about to get heated. You have been warned. For those who have awaited a sex scene...


Warm breath alight in clouds of smoke left his lips in the chill, and a never ending starry sky shifted above him as his shoes clicked with the force of which he flew down the concrete streets of London. The smell of smoke and the sting in his eyes - 'thermal damage:minor, slight poisoning in the lungs and irritated eyes caused by the carbon monoxide, hydrogen cyanide and-' he would not look back lest he dare to face death. Flame licked the building he had darted from. John would have his head if he-

"SHERLOCK!"
The Consulting Detective's piercing blue eyes fell upon his doctor who, upon a short inspection, seemed thoroughly disheveled and quite upset at him. His hair frizzed a bit from the slight mist of rainfall earlier that afternoon, his eyes a dangerous stormy gray as he marched to the man. Oh he was in trouble all right. He had run off into danger and had forgotten two of John's unspoken- but known- rules.

"-damn near got yourself killed-"
One: A bomb strapped to him does not merit John Watson to worry for his own safety. No, what that means is he cares less about his own well being and choices, and more about Sherlock's.

"-why didn't you tell me what was going on-"
Two: John wants to be of use. If Sherlock needs him, he would come running, but that requires Sherlock telling him. John isn't psychic!

Huffing and worn out, Sherlock bent to rest his hands on his knees, trying to work air into his lungs and carbon monoxide out. John had come to a halt a comfortable space away from the well-dressed man, wearing Sherlock's favorite jumper on him. 'All of them are atrocious, but it's the nice one...' He thought, straightening up to take in John in his striped jumper. "Great to see you too John," He breathed.

That made John scowl and his thin lips draw into an even thinner line. Neither one had to say a word- a thousand passed between them in the short silence. Sherlock had crossed a line, and now he had to find his way back onto the other side of it. John witnessed the sharp gaze melt into one only John has seen directed at him, those cupid's bow lips parted slightly and a rather wounded look that held one other emotion to the mix upon his face.

The genius has tried to bite back his emotions and remain in control all of his life. He had perfected the art of denying them long ago, until the combination lock to that vault was picked open by those soft spoken words so long ago...

"Hmmn... a bit different from my day..."

In his childish rage of having been so easily bested, Sherlock had run ever faster from accepting his attraction to the man, until he could run no more; the night he fell ill from his tumble into the Thames, the vortex had swallowed him whole and forced the little things in John that he adored to come into full focus when the doctor had pressed a cool rag to his forehead or brought him tea. He tore at the mental assault, because he did not understand, and cried out in despair after John had left, because he had found his conclusion. Endorphins in his blood had made themselves at home with each individual platelet, so that when John Watson- or his smell, his tea, his voice, a text or his clothes- came within eyesight or close parameter of Sherlock his heart would kick into overdrive.

So when he and John were standing there, in the chill of a London back road as the Yard went about their work with the fire hoses being pulled from trucks as well, those chemicals forced a blush to his cheeks and his pupils to dilate ever so slightly. And as a doctor who was hell-bent to memorize everything in his textbooks as a college student, John knew what those signs meant. Which caused him to mirror the man before him, but where Sherlock's eyes had narrowed like a predator- John's had widened... like prey.

"Sherlock..."
"John..."
John's breath hitched; thinking became hazy for a moment, and then the heavens let loose it's usual downpour upon London and it's inhabitants. Sherlock slipped his hand into John's when the shorter man had turned his face to the sky, pulling him along as they ran from the crime scene hand in hand.

It felt so right to both of them, that Sherlock grinned, and John laughed. With John a step behind Sherlock, they ended up on the same street Angelo's was located, and ran for the shelter of the nearest shop awning. They regained their breath, and then the laughter ensued. To this day it's unsure who started the giggle fit, but it was clear they ended it together when they turned their heads to look at one another.

Suddenly... John doesn't ever want to be anywhere else...
He wants those eyes to remain on him for eternity... he never wants to date another girl, speak about relationships to anyone else ever again. The drenched curls make his fingers ache to bury themselves in them; his eyes were still slightly dilated, and the clothes...
"John..." Sherlock breathed, his name sounding erotic and obscene upon that mouth.
John whimpered and caved, suddenly pressing the taller man into the front of the closed shop's window. His lips met Sherlock's innocently, but it held John's heart in it. A single tremor ran through the detective, hands resting on John's forearm and tightening when their mouths began to move.

Slow, tentative movements and slanting to find a better angle... it was John who gasped when Sherlock ran his tongue across his lips to ask permission for entrance. He had never been good at denying Sherlock; he groaned and gasped as he opened his mouth, and Sherlock switched their positions. Effectively pinning John to the glass and- gripping his hips- hoisted him up to equal height to properly snog him to death. He rested a knee between John's legs when his arms began to throb, but his tongue still explored John's oh so inviting mouth.

It ran across and behind teeth, pressed against the roof of his mouth, and curled around John's tongue and each action received different and highly arousing actions. Watson groaned, shivered, chill bumps raised on his skin, and when Sherlock feigned to press his lips to John's pulse he rutted against Sherlock's leg. "Sherlock-" He mewled, head tilting up and fingers digging into the soaked fabric of the midnight black coat.

Halting all progress, he stepped away from John and opted to rest his forehead against him instead. "Home. Now." He demanded, eyes open, nearly all color lost to his blown pupils.
"Oh God yes..."


It was a miracle that they had even made it to the flat. All of the years spent hiding their feeling and denying the inevitable forced to the front of their minds, they ascended the stairs and the second the door closed and locked, Sherlock had John's wrists in his hands and pinned him to the door, licking and biting at his neck and he began grinding against him. "Ah, Sherlock-" A harsh rub of Sherlock's promising erection, still covered in well-fitted dress pants, "-Christ-"
"Oh John... oh God why didn't we do this sooner? Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to press you onto every surface of this flat and just-" His fingers were already flying, leaving John's hands for a moment to pull the jumper from his lover's body, "-Oh John, can I be in you? Please?"

"You should have been in me an hour ago," John's low rumble replied. He was shaking, and in his anticipation he ended up popping the last three buttons loose from Sherlock's maroon shirt before pushing it off of his shoulders. Sherlock's mouth found a dip in John's collarbone, and bit it when John's fingers tweaked his nipple. Groaning, he slid from John's grip and flicked the button open on John's pants, had John rid himself of his shoes and socks, then in one deft movement, had John naked before him.

He took a step back with a grin that sent a shiver down John's back when he licked his lips. "Turn around and put your hands on the door John..."

Breathing heavy, the doctor followed command and spread his fingers out on it, back arching sweetly and he tried to glance back at Sherlock curiously.
"Feet apart, John."
Once again, he obeyed his orders, and was rewarded when two slick fingers began rubbing at his tight ring of muscle, making him moan. "Don't be too loud John... Misses Hudson..."
"Oh, oh-" He whimpered.
Sherlock leaned over John to nip at his ear, observing and recording carefully each little everything as he pushed the two digits into him slowly, earning him a long drawn out 'ah'. "God you're beautiful," He hummed in his ear, working him open bit by bit before curling his fingers to graze his prostate. John fell still, gasping when he rocked back into his hand and was rewarded with a scrape of fingers to the sweet spot. "Oh, so you like it there?" Sherlock breathed, quickening the pace and causing him to to slide down the door a bit- fingers scrambling for purchase against the wood but finding none.

Sherlock's free hand, which had idled on John's hip, slid across sweat glistening skin to tease his cock with light grazes of his fingers before grasping to stroke slowly.
"S-Sherlock-"John pleaded, huffing. That was when Sherlock had a wonderfully wicked idea.

He withdrew his fingers and body from John, causing the man to whine, and then he was back- but between John's quivering legs in front of him. He didn't hesitate to take John into his mouth, and his fingers returned to push three into his slightly stretched hole. The hot flesh in Sherlock's mouth turned him on, and the pulsing piece pushed in and out rapidly- John having flown into a frenzy by the man who's mouth he was now fucking. He buried his fingers into the midnight curls when he hollowed out his cheeks and swallowed when he had John fully in his mouth. Salty pre-cum coated his tongue, but he wanted John's taste in him.

John warned him through his pants and groans, but Sherlock pulled his fingers out of John to grip his ass and hold him there, moving faster until he heard the man moan, felt him shake and hot liquid ran down his throat. Holmes drank him greedily, milking him until all of his cum was down in him, before allowing John to collapse to his knees in front of him.
"Oh, we aren't done John..."
For the first time, John felt himself getting hard again for a second time...


A/N: Be kind, first sex scene. R&R, and like Sherlock said: they aren't done yet...