January 6
It was mid-afternoon as Mary pulled the last box out of the car. John immediately took it from her, walking into the house. She followed closely behind. "Are you sure it's not too soon?"
"No, it's fine. I didn't need a study anyway."
"Really, John. I'm not imposing, am I?"
"At the very least you can probably cook better than me," he chuckled. He set the box down on Mary's new dresser.
"John, I'm trying to be serious! I don't want things to get mucked up."
"I moved in with Sherlock after I had known him for a whole day, and it was one of the best decisions I ever made." He said solemnly.
Mary gave him a quick kiss.
"And besides, you've got your own room. You're like a really hot flatmate now."
"Do you kiss all your flatmates?"
"Not all of them." She leaned back in but John stopped her. "Do you...er...want to get settled in? I've got a few errands to run and then I'll be back."
"Oh, okay. I'll see you later." John left behind a puzzled Mary to unpack.
"Happy Birthday, Sherlock." John bent and set down the bouquet. He stopped by the florist first, picking up a bundle of white lilies, before hopping a cab out to the cemetery to see his best friend.
It was a bright day, at least, despite the winter cold. It would have been almost unbearable to stand in front of the stone in the drizzle.
"So, er, it's your birthday. You'd be, God, thirty-three. You could probably still pass for twenty-seven if you wanted. But you know that. I bet you're watching with that smug look on your face 'Obvious'. Jesus, I'm sorry that I don't visit much. But it's painful. It's painful to see your tombstone and know that you aren't alive. Christ. Every day. I think about you. Every. Day. It's like you were a period of my life. I can't just bounce back from that. I still think that one day you're going to send me a text and we'll go off on a case, like nothing has happened. I don't know why you would have done gone and killed yourself-" He broke off, taking a few deep breaths.
"I've met someone. Her name is Mary. Mary Morstan. And Jesus, she's perfect. We've only been together days and I know that. There you are again 'sentiment'. But I'm who I want to be when I'm with her. She makes me feel kinder, more generous, like I'm alive again. Like I did before...before. I think a lot about what you would say if you could meet her. Would you like her? Er, probably not, to be honest." He laughed softly. "You don't like a lot of people though. I don't think she'd take it too hard. She'd love you. She already does love you."
"I don't live at Baker Street any more. I have to get on with it, you know, my life. There are too many memories there. And it's...our place. Not mine. If anything it was just your place. Mrs. Hudson hasn't rented it yet. I don't know if I can bear the thought of anyone else living there. Mycroft set me up with a new place. You wouldn't like it. There's not enough clutter and the kitchen is far too small for experiments. He's been good to me, Mycroft. But he should be, after what he did...to you."
"Should my ears be burning, Doctor Watson?" John whipped around to see a familiar figure cutting a path towards the grave, an umbrella in one hand and a bouquet in the other. "White lilies as well? Excellent choice. I am rather partial to them myself. I'm not entirely sure that Sherlock would understand the social conventions of presenting dead flowers to people."
"Did you follow me here, Mycroft?"
"Surprisingly no, I did not. I came to wish my brother a happy birthday. He hasn't accepted a gift from me since he turned nine, so I thought I might forcibly give him one now."
"What kind of gift do you give a dead man?"
"Some flowers, John. As well, I made a sizeable donation to the London Apicultural Society. He was ever so fond of bees."
"Bees."
"Yes, bees. He could talk about them for hours. Dull, really."
"I'll leave you then. I can come back another time."
"Is Miss Morstan settling in well, Doctor Watson?"
"She is. I left her to unpack, but she seems pleased with the arrangement."
"Moving in together rather quickly, are you not? Not as quickly as with Sherlock, I'll give you that. Is a happy announcement in the works?"
"No, just happy to help someone in need."
"Aren't you the one in need, Doctor Watson?" Mycroft gave him a long look, before sweeping off, umbrella in hand.
"You never told me you liked bees," John muttered at the headstone. "Did you even give to charity? Was that something important to you? There are a lot of things I wished I had asked."
He took a deep breath.
"But it's all too late isn't it. And now I'm talking to a patch of dirt."
"Get all your errands finished?" Mary said brightly as he came in the house. She was standing barefoot at the sink, doing the washing up and looking like she belonged in this flat. It was as if she was meant to be here. John slid in behind her and kissed her neck.
"I did."
"Good. You're looking a bit blue. Anything I can do?"
He smiled. "Not at all. Would you like to go out tonight? Somewhere nice to celebrate?"
"Celebrate what? I'm just a hot flatmate."
"Cheeky girl." Another kiss.
"We still have some time before dinner."
"Mm?" He still had his head around her shoulder.
"I've got a new mattress that could use some trying out."
"You are a cheeky girl." Mary turned to face him, capturing his mouth with hers. John felt his pulse quicken as her tongue began the slow slide against his.
One hand snaked down her back, toying with the waist of her trousers, just slightly dipping down. The other hand was trapped against his chest, her chest, rubbing, stroking, probing, as he pushed against her tighter. He felt blood begin to pool in his groin. They hadn't had anything remotely resembling sex since the moment after the Christmas party. He hadn't wanted to push her, and it seemed he was reaping the benefits of that now.
"We should move to the bedroom, or I might try to shag you in the kitchen," he said breathily. He looked at her. She didn't look totally debauched, but her lips had begun to low swollen. Jesus he wanted this.
"Might have to let you do that one of these days." She didn't even blush as she said it, but John did.
"Maybe next time. Let's see about that mattress." He kissed her again, deeply before leading her into the other room.
Mycroft had originally furnished this as a study, complete with leather-bound copies of Keats and Shakespeare lining the walls. He had never intended to read the books, but their presence was comforting, somehow. When Mary had decided to move in, he hadn't felt any qualms asking Mycroft to clean the room out. It was still quite bare. Boxes littered the floor, but the bed had been neatly made. Navy duvet and matching sheets tucked tidily in. John couldn't wait to mess them up.
Mary gently but firmly pushed a hand to his chest, pushing him down onto the bed. Delicate fingers reached up and began to pull her blouse over her head, revealing a crimson bra, displayed starkly against an expanse of smooth, pale skin. John's jaw slacked.
"I thought I'd have an easier time seducing you if I knew I was wearing this."
Her trousers soon found their way off and onto the floor.
"I don't think you would have hard time doing any seducing, even if you were wearing a paper bag." Mary grinned, climbing onto the bed to straddle John's lap. "I'm feeling a little overdressed." He said, reaching up to caress her breast through the smooth lace.
"Hmmm...perhaps." She leaned in for a kiss, working at his shirt buttons, one after another. She slid it off of his shoulders without pause. He was wearing a white cotton vest. John's hand stilled hers as she went to pull it off.
"No, don't. I've got a scar. It's quite large. I'd rather not." He felt his erection flagging quickly.
"It's fine, John. Don't worry about it."
"Are you s-"
"John. Do you want me to stop?"
He swallowed. "No," he answered honestly.
Mary reached up behind her to unclasp the bra. John's mouth fell open. She was beautiful. "That's exactly the reaction I was going for." She ground against his newly hardened cock with fervour.
"Here," he offered, fiddling with his belt, releasing the clasp on his trousers. He kept his eyes on her, moving forward to crush their lips together. He lifted his hips slightly to push his clothes off in one smooth movement, allowing himself to spring free. He reached down to stroke her gently through the lace, relishing in every gasp of pleasure. He could smell the sharp tang of sweat mingling with the warm floral of her perfume coming off of her neck as she arched backward. Freckles smattered across her chest, along with a few small, round scars, long since healed.
He gently worked off her underwear, stroking her with smooth surgeon's fingers. He paused, one finger pressed at her entrance. "Is this okay?"
"God yes." The finger pushed in, feeling the moist heat. His cock brushed against her thigh and he shivered at the contact. She was still kissing him with abandon, and dear god, could she kiss. He added a second finger, then a third, enjoying the gasp she released as he did so. It made him feel like he was Three-Continents Watson again, something he hadn't felt in a long time.
With his free hand he reaches up to roll a nipple between two fingers. She is undone all too soon, panting as her muscles contracted around him. He continued stroking her until the last tenuous spasms had stopped.
"My turn." John's smile is vulpine as he flips her down on to the bed. She may be taller, but he looms over her. Her mouth is once again taken by his. John is so close, although he has yet to lay a hand on his cock. It won't last long, but she is happy, and that's good enough for him. Mary parted her legs expectantly. He stopped to fumble with a condom. They hadn't yet discussed birth control options, and the doctor in him didn't want to assume any more than he already had. He had put some both in her room and his, prepared for this moment. It took but a moment to prepare himself. He shifted his hips minutely, sliding in slowly. She was still overly sensitive, and moaned at the intrusion.
His focus has narrowed to the way their skin fit together, the warmth and softness of her. She was beautiful, wrung out and waiting for him. Mary bucked against him, urging him to push into her. He hooked an arm under her knee, wrapping it around his waist as he began the push-pull of thrusts. She responded by looping the other leg up around him as well, holding on as he began to increase pace.
It was only minutes, but it felt like an eternity when he heard her whisper his name, "John," and he was done. With one final thrust he finished. He sagged against her, but she didn't seem to mind.
Rolling off of his girlfriend, he disposed of the condom quickly. He lay back, and she kissed him gently before relaxing against him. "Not bad for a first time," she said with a small smile.
"We'll need to try harder next time then."
"We'll have to. I should get started on dinner."
"Stay just a moment longer?"
"If you insist."