Sherlock sighed loudly after his phone pinged a week or so later. John gave him a questioning look to which he replied, "My parents just arrived back from a trip to South Africa, they want to meet Rosie." That weekend, Violet and Siegel Holmes came to 221B to meet their (newly official) grandchild.
"Hello Sherlock dear, I'm so glad you've had the little one to take care of, not getting shot at all the time. I still haven't gotten my revenge on that person who shot my little boy. You are taking care of him, John, I trust?"
"Yes Mrs. Holmes, I've been doing my best."
"Mum, that was ages ago, it never mattered to me. John, this is my father, you should have a lot to discuss in the way of jumpers."
"Well it's an art only few understand." Siegel teased.
"I couldn't agree more." John said.
"I can see you'll get on swimmingly." Sherlock said dryly.
Rosie started to call out to Sherlock and John over the baby monitor. It seemed she had impeccable timing when it came to waking up from her naps as the elder Holmeses became very excited.
"I didn't think I'd see the day, my son with a child… Bring her down for us, will you John? I'll get Sherlock to make us all some tea."
Sherlock muttered a bit under his voice at this command, but gave a soft sigh and complied as John went upstairs to fetch Rosie from her crib. She had calmed down a bit after the nightmare incident and had finally been okay with having her own room. When he reached the room, Rosie was standing in her cot with a bright smile on her face. She was wearing a bee onesie today with an embroidered honey jar on it.
"I meeting Granny and Grandad?" Rosie asked excitedly.
"Yes you are Rosebud." John said as he picked her up. "They're right downstairs and excited to meet you too."
"Yay!"
Sherlock went through the motions of making tea, he even used the bone china tea set he had used when Moriarty visited the flat. He was a bit reluctant to go out to the lounge, sure he would be regaled with far too many details about safari trips and the like… hopefully the baby would be a welcome distraction for that. He'd seen enough blurry photographs of wildlife over the past fortnight to make him wish Mycroft had never given Mummy a smartphone (more for the GPS bugging capabilities than for the camera, which they had both suffered for). Moreover, his parents were going to meet their only grandchild and he didn't think they had actually shown a great track record with genius children… He put the tea set on the tray and set it on the coffee table just before John and Rosie entered.
John could see the excitement in Rosie's face. It was as if she found someone incredibly important in her life. Violet and Siegel practically lit up at the sight of their new granddaughter, and John swore Mrs. Holmes almost cried when Rosie waved at them.
"Hello Rosie! Isn't that just an adorable outfit. Oh, John, she has your smile… I just want to gobble her up, she's so adorable."
Finally, John thought, someone noticed something about me in her. He knew it was stupid being happy over something so simple, but it was nice not hearing that she was just like Sherlock.
"Obviously." Rosie said.
"I think we have a nature versus nurture thing going on, Sherlock, that was absolutely you."
"She seems to have picked up narcissism from you, Sherlock my boy." Siegel said with a smirk. "She knows she's adorable."
"Of course she knows, it's clearly true. I picked the outfit, by the way." Sherlock seemed to be beaming, genuinely happy at his parents' approval.
"Come to… oh what should you call me, little one?" Violet asked.
"Granny." Rosie answered.
"Okay, come to Granny."
John handed Rosie over to her new Granny and Rosie looked like she was deducing Violet on sight. He prayed to god she wouldn't say anything inappropriate to put off her Granny. Unfortunately, his silent prayers did nothing as Rosie pointed at Violet and said,
"Cheekbones and talks a lot."
"Sorry, Mum, she's very perceptive. I think that was her way of comparing us." Sherlock said quickly. "I talk a lot and well, the cheekbones run in the family, don't take offence."
"Of course not, dear, we're used to you." She laughed at Sherlock's slightly stunned expression.
"Thank you, Rosie, I suppose your…" Violet looked thoughtful for a second. "Ah, Papa had to get it from somewhere."
"Obviously!" Rosie declared.
"Is that your favorite word, Rosie?" Siegel asked.
Rosie nodded with a hum, and John could feel his heart warm at the sight of Rosie bonding with her adoptive grandparents. He knew she'd never meet his parents, so the fact that she had Sherlock's parents as grandparents was just great. It was what she needed, but he also knew Mrs. Hudson would want to be pronounced "Nana" soon. She watched and played with Rosie enough that she earned the title on her own.
"Oh, the poor dear seems a bit soggy, can I change her?" Violet looked so genuinely happy to change a nappy, Sherlock merely led her to the bathroom in stunned amusement.
"I couldn't believe you actually did this while John was in the hospital, Sherlock. I never thought I'd see the day you became a father."
"Needs must, Mother." Sherlock said with a tinge of red to his cheeks.
Mrs. Holmes efficiently changed Rosie's diaper and picked her up again, she seemed reluctant to let her go.
"I suppose we have to go share her now." She said, walking towards the lounge.
"You must be very proud of her, John." Siegel remarked. "A child like that doesn't happen often."
"Well you had three, and the two boys ended up living at home, I'm surprised you survived."
Siegel laughed at that.
"It's true, the boys were trouble, but it all worked out in the end." He said as Violet walked in with Rosie and Sherlock. "The proof is right in front of you."
Sherlock wasn't sure 'it all worked out in the end' was a good way to explain their family. His parents had tried their best, but between Mycroft's arrogance, Sherlock's desire to perform dangerous experiments and his history of addiction, not to mention Eurus' early psychosis, it was rather inaccurate as a family motto. He tried to bottle up the rage at his parents and Mycroft that always seemed to bubble up at the thought of everybody else knowing he had a sister whilst he remained oblivious - today was not the appropriate time for that conversation.
"Well, even if Sherlock drives me up the wall, he and Rosie are worth it."
"So Rosie, what should I be called then?" Siegel asked.
"Grandad."
"Alright, then come here to Grandad."
"Wanna play with letters." Rosie countered.
"So you can show Granny and Grandad what words you know?" John asked.
"Yeah."
"Spelling at this age is quite extraordinary. Show Granny what you can do sweetheart." Siegel and Violet sat on the chairs closest to the spelling mat.
She sat Rosie down on her mat and Rosie started to pick out some letters. She spelled a few words like 'skull', 'teeth', 'chin', even 'cranium', which John didn't know she even knew how to spell. He was shocked she knew at all because she only really spelled simple words.
"Rosie, where'd you learn to spell that?"
"Papa showed me."
"A little over a month ago when I showed her the skull, I taught her a few of the simpler terms. I didn't expect 'cranium' to stick, though." He grinned proudly down at her and gave her a wink.
"Papa's smart! He knows everything!"
"We know, he used to do the same things to show off to us." She whispered to John. "Of course his boasting usually involved eyeballs or bird livers."
"Eyeballs!" Rosie said gleefully then spelled it.
"She apparently has quite excellent hearing too." She looked at John and Sherlock apologetically.
"She's just incredibly smart in a lot of areas. It's hard to keep up." John defended.
"She's also years ahead of where she should be, it's quite remarkable." Siegel commented.
"Yes, and we love her just as she is." Sherlock said.
"Who could blame you? She's a sweetheart." Violet said.
Soon Rosie started spelling more words on the floor and Sherlock's parents started regaling tales of safaris, culture, and hotels. John was actually quite interested in it all and asked to see pictures (much to Sherlock's dismay). There were photos of giraffes, antelopes, everything you would find at a zoo, only in their natural habitat.
However, Sherlock noticed something quite strange occurring in their own habitat… Rosie had been spelling some easy words like lion and rhino ("there's a hidden 'H', Honeybee") and suddenly seemed much more interested in the idea of pictures. Rosie actually stood up on her own, and looked like she was about to walk.
John heard Sherlock's command to look at Rosie and was absolutely shocked. He then urged Mr. and Mrs. Holmes to watch Rosie as well. Rosie seemed to be a bit off balance, but then took her first step. Sherlock knelt down on the floor next to the table. Violet immediately began to record the moment on her phone.
"Hey, Honeybee, do you want to come over to see the pictures? Come here to Papa."
Rosie smiled brightly and took three more steps. She fell forward a bit but balanced herself out and walked with determination. Surely enough, Rosie had reached Sherlock in thirty steps and hugged him. John started clapping and said,
"Great job Rosie! Fantastic!"
"Oh, those were her first steps weren't they? I can't believe I managed to film it, my hands are shaking!" Violet sniffled a bit, tears shining in her eyes. Siegel located a tissue box and passed her one, she dabbed delicately at her eyes.
John was so happy that Rosie could walk, but also terrified at the same time. Now she wasn't restricted to crawling to get to places, she could now stand up and reach things that were usually crawl-proof. Then again, many parents who were John's patients in the past said kids take to walking all the time at different rates. It would at least be months until she walked full-time, which gave him some comfort.
"Soon she'll be grabbing things that she usually couldn't reach." He commented.
"I'll have the child-proofing people back here tomorrow, and we'll do a full inventory of what we keep on the places that are now within her reach."
As gratifying as it was to see his little girl growing up, it also terrified Sherlock… this unusual pace was beginning to worry him. He was becoming more interested in her musculature, and how she was able to support herself. He almost wished they had done that body scan, it would be more fascinating to him than a hundred corpses.
"It seems once again our granddaughter has progressed further." Siegel said.
"She might be showing off for you a little bit… John would say she gets that from me." Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Probably. She's been around for when you've shown off for clients." John agreed.
"Obviously." Rosie interjected.
"With two of you that's going to get annoying very quickly."
It was my line first, Sherlock thought and mused briefly that maybe she could use 'bored' and he could use 'tedious', his thoughts were interrupted by him noticing the time. His parents had to leave soon or they would miss their train. They should at least show Rosie those pictures first, she had walked to see them. He picked her up with a spin, which made her giggle and deposited her on Granny's lap so she could see the phone.
"Is that a lion?" Rosie asked for one photo.
"Yes it is, Rosebud. The king of the jungle."
"In actual fact John, that is a title more befitting of the tiger as they inhabit jungles. Lions naturally inhabit the veld or savannah, which is why their colouring matches that of long grass." Sherlock said.
John sighed.
"Alright, the king of the savannah."
"Some things never change, John, he always has to have the last word." Violet smirked.
"Trust me, I know."
Rosie then asked about rhinos when they got to pictures of them in an enclosure.
"You can't see many of them because they have to be protected from nasty people who want to cut off their horns." Sherlock explained.
"That's mean!" Rosie exclaimed.
"It's disgusting."
"Why can't Daddy and Papa catch the bad men?"
John tried really hard not to laugh. It was adorable that Rosie thought they could do things like that, but that wasn't really their area.
"Because we catch murderers, Rosie, not people who kill Rhinos." John explained.
"But the bad men are murdering Rhinos too." Rosie countered.
Sherlock realised that she was actually debating with them. That was a whole other level of conversational intellect.
"When there are no more murderers here, we'll take a trip to Africa, Honeybee, okay? We'll go catch the rhino murderers."
At that the little one gasped and nodded with a loud 'yeah'.
They had just put themselves into a binding contract with that suggestion. Sometimes John wished Sherlock would think ahead more before making decisions. He made a promise to himself that if Sherlock tried something like that again, he'd try to talk him out of it.
At around 7 pm Rosie was starting to fall asleep. It was also a good time for the grandparents to leave so they said their goodbyes to Rosie before they left and John put her to bed. He was honestly a bit exhausted by that point. He just wanted to fall asleep to delay the inevitable chasing of Rosie around the flat tomorrow. When he was in bed with the covers on, Sherlock came into the bedroom as well.
Sherlock gave John a smoldering look, but John ignored it. He began to undress slowly well within John's field of vision. He kept his pants on and showed off his rear end walking around to the wardrobe to fetch pajama bottoms (unnecessarily). John merely groaned and closed his eyes. Sherlock went to the loo, then climbed into bed.
"I know what you're doing, Sherlock." John mumbled.
"I was being rather obvious purposefully." Sherlock said in his deeper 'bedroom voice'.
"While having sex has it's appeals, I'm knackered and just want to sleep."
"I had observed that, John. I thought you might sleep more soundly after some intimate contact." He said as he slowly ran his hand over John's arm.
"Well I was about to go to sleep, but then you came in acting all sexy and distracted me."
"Well, I am feeling… aroused… perhaps we could reach a compromise." Sherlock intoned.
John's cock twitched a bit at that.
"I'm listening."
"I've read that mutual pleasure can be gained by a process called frottage…" Sherlock could see John shivered from that suggestion. "Your body certainly seems to like the proposition."
"If you do all the work, I wouldn't be opposed to that."
Sherlock hooked his thumbs into his pants and wriggled out of them, his erection already prominent, then he knelt over John and helped him to do the same. He positioned himself between John's legs, his own penis hardening even more as he saw John's begin to fill and give another twitch. He stroked John to full readiness, and marveled at the fact that he'd been so inexperienced a short time ago. John felt like he had been made specifically for Sherlock and Sherlock loved it. He had read that lubricant would increase the pleasurable feeling of their two penises rubbing together, so he extracted some from the drawer. He let it heat up in his palm before applying it to John… he had promised to do all the work, after all. Then he leaned forward, aligning them and began to kiss John deeply. His penis was being lubricated by John's and it felt glorious. He began to thrust them together.
John didn't know that just the act of rubbing their cocks together could feel so good. He thought that having a hole or a mouth would be the best, but this was almost as good as that. There was just something fulfilling in this and he loved it. He started to moan quietly as Sherlock picked up the pace and grabbed onto Sherlock's arse hard to signal he wanted it rougher, which was what he got. If he wasn't so tired, he'd have pinned Sherlock to the wall and fucked him senseless… but damn his body for having human needs such as sleep.
"D-do you like that?" Sherlock gasped. "Does my penis feel good?"
"St-stop with the dirty talk." John groaned. "You're no-ot good at it."
Sherlock stopped immediately and drank in John's moans with his kisses instead, he was taking all the signals he could from John's body. When John had gripped his cheeks, he thrust harder and faster. Putting most of his weight on his left arm, he snaked a hand between them and held their two penises together so that they were thrusting into the circling embrace. Even John couldn't help thrusting up at this point. They stopped kissing because their breathing was so ragged, Sherlock whispered quiet 'I love you's' in between breaths. John sounded close when he groaned Sherlock's name and Sherlock tried to match his orgasm to John's. He failed by only a second, but the extra lubrication from John sent him over the edge immediately.
It seemed like every time Sherlock did something new with him, John would reach a new level of orgasm. He didn't know if there would be anything else that could surpass this one because it was fucking incredible. Sherlock had become incredibly good at sex just from these past few months and it was insane but also unsurprising. His mind was always useless after sex with Sherlock for a good while because the intensity was always incredible.
They were both covered in their commingling ejaculate. Sherlock gave John one last loving kiss before reaching over to replace the lubricant and grab tissues and baby wipes (they had proved surprisingly good at cleaning… all manner of things). He cleaned them both up and threw the debris in the rubbish bin nearby. John was as flushed as he was and he had managed to calm his breathing enough to talk.
"Thank you, but please don't try to talk dirty again. It's not who you are, love."
Sherlock smirked and gave a brief chuckle. "I promise." He kissed John on the cheek and asked whether he would like his pants put back on. John shook his head with a yawn. Sherlock decided to forego his pants too. He was sated and it was just too much effort. He offered John a sip of water from the bottle he kept in his drawer. John accepted, yawned again and snuggled onto Sherlock's chest. Sherlock took a quick gulp from his restricted position, placed the bottle on the nightstand and could have sworn he felt John's drowsiness seep into him. John was already fast asleep with his right arm curled around Sherlock's abdomen. He fell asleep filing more happy memories into his mind palace, first this latest experience with John, so he could 'clean his mind' to think of Rosie taking her first steps and his parents' pure joy at meeting their grandchild. It had been an exceptional day.
Over the next few days, Rosie didn't want to stop walking. It seemed John's hope of Rosie not taking to walking so quickly was diminished because she just followed them everywhere. Even when John went to the bathroom, she would walk up to the door and sit waiting to follow him again. She seemed to be relishing in the fact that she could walk now and it was amazing but terrifying.
The child-proofing experts had been to the flat early that first morning, looked shocked, and basically pronounced there was little more they could do except to put in higher gate rails. Sherlock feared she would soon learn to open them and they would become superfluous anyway, as would the child-proof door, drawer, cabinet and cupboard locks. They now had to practice maximum stealth in retrieving anything from a locked place. Very soon she would be able to reach everything, she wasn't that tall yet, but she was growing every day. Sherlock shuddered to think what she would do to his sock index or his suits.
John hadn't been around for some of the excitement, so Sherlock had to deal with the chaos the most. He felt bad, but a selfish, exhausted part of him was thankful he had a second person to take part of the trouble. Just Rosie walking around the first full day had been incredibly hard, but her following them around was even harder.
Being tailed by a walking child had become very old, very quickly. Apparently children taking their first steps was supposed to be a huge moment for parents, and it had felt that way at the time, but he hadn't expected it to become a permanent feature immediately. Even Sherlock was beginning to tire of the constant lack of privacy. He had to lock both bathroom doors just to complete his ablutions, it was getting ridiculous. He hoped that the new gates would hold off her learning to climb stairs. The flat was beginning to feel like it was shrinking by the moment. Sherlock could really have used a cigarette at this point. He couldn't call on Molly as she was working and Mrs. Hudson would never keep up with the child. He wondered briefly if he could set her on Mycroft, but dismissed that with a private giggle… perhaps one day, when Mycroft had really wronged him. At least she seemed to tire quite easily and she wanted an extra nap. He carried her up the stairs, disengaging the gate in a way that hid the trick from her. He had an hour and a half to himself to rest and think of a plan. The plan took a few minutes, making himself a cup of tea (with lots of sugar) and some toast with a good deal of honey took a few more and flopping down on the couch took up the rest until the baby monitor woke him. It was a sunny day, a rarity for Spring in London, and this had inspired his plan: he would take Rosie to Regents Park.
Rosie started to call out to Sherlock over the baby monitor, but it was slightly softer than the usual noises when she woke up. She was probably still half asleep so there would be a bit of time for Rosie to be drowsy and not running around everywhere, which was fantastic.
Sherlock gathered himself, breathed deeply a few times and found the baby sunscreen that Rosie would need, as well as his coat, scarf and shoes - and her little replica coat. He trudged up the stairs. Rosie was rousing more as he applied the sunscreen and got her dressed for leaving the flat. By the time this was done, she was ready to walk around everywhere with him. He did his stair trick again, and insisted he take her in her carrier for the walk to the park, she reluctantly complied.
"Wanna walk."
"If you walk you'll be tired already when we get there, don't you want to walk on the grass and play?"
"Yeah."
They reached the park where they could walk around freely, without the sense of claustrophobia Sherlock was beginning to develop in the flat. He'd taken her out of the carrier as they arrived and stowed it near some benches under a tree. It should be reasonably safe there. Sherlock immediately realised a problem, most children who began to walk were tall enough to reach their parents' hands, which was a good safety system… She was diminutive and he was tall and this would be problematic because he did not want her to wander off, especially if there were any press or predators about. He quickly untied his scarf from his neck, instead tying it to her little wrist and holding the other end. It was a bit absurd to be walking a child on what was effectively a leash, but he would not let anything untoward happen to his daughter. He and Rosie walked to the pond, over the small bridge and watched the ducks. She saw some other people tossing bread to the ducks and looked like she wanted to as well.
"It's actually really bad for the ducks Honeybee. They don't digest the bread properly and the other pieces contaminate their water. I wish people would stop doing it."
"Then why do it? Why not feed duckies duck food?"
"People are ignorant, Rosie. They just keep doing what other people have done for generations without knowing it's wrong. They don't bother to check if it's healthy for the ducks."
"But it hurts duckies! It's bad!"
"Yes, but they don't know that, they haven't done their research."
"What do duckies eat?"
"They can eat vegetables like peas or corn or lettuce, they also like seeds and oats. You can even buy special duck pellets, I think. How about I do that for next time? Then we can feed them too."
"Yeah!"
Rosie then watched the ducks for a while. She sat down in her mini Belstaff just watching their movements and how the ducks interacted with one another. However, a little duckling came very close to her. Rosie gasped with a giant smile and reached her hand out. The duckling of course backed away, but then moved close and allowed her to pet it.
Sherlock snapped a picture with his mobile of Rosie and the duckling and sent it to John. Rosie looked radiant, grinning wildly, hair ruffled by a slight breeze. He felt his heart melt once more at the sight. For the first time since the walking started, he felt all the irritation leave him as he looked at his daughter.
Unfortunately the moment turned sour when the duckling bit Rosie and went back to its family. Rosie started to cry and her hand had a bright red mark from the duckling's beak.
"Shh, Rosie, shh." Sherlock said as he immediately picked her up. "Maybe we can go visit Daddy at work to make sure that the duckling didn't hurt you… would you like that?"
"Please." She said between sniffles and tears.
Sherlock sent John a quick text saying the duck incident had gone slightly wrong and they would be popping by to see him at the surgery. John replied that he would clear a spot for her.
Carrying Rosie, Sherlock retrieved the baby carrier and strapped her in before leaving the park and hailing a cab.
When they got to the clinic, there were a few people who recognized Sherlock. They didn't say anything, but it was obvious on their faces that they recognized him. But things didn't get better as someone actually took out their phone to take a picture specifically of Rosie. Sherlock struck out with his free hand, grabbed the man's wrist and squeezed a point which made their hand go limp and their phone drop to the ground. It was in a protective case, which disappointed Sherlock, because he had really wanted to see it smash into pieces.
"Would anybody else like to try to take a photo of my daughter?" he said, shoving the man away and rounding to face the rest of the group. He bent to pick up the phone, the screen was still on so he could erase the blurred photograph of him reaching toward the camera. Sherlock covered Rosie's ears as he hissed out "Maybe you'd like all the details of your private lives exposed? I can do that, deduce every dirty secret in a few moments… You know who I am, believe me, you do not want to see me in action when I'm angry." He cast another calculating glance around the room before he turned swiftly in a swirl of coat to shield Rosie and stormed into John's office.
John had just finished with the previous patient and sent them out when his door slammed open and Sherlock swept inside with Rosie's carrier half concealed under his coat. The suddenness scared the shit out of him and made him jump.
"Sherlock!?" John exclaimed. "What in the he-."
"Your waiting room is full of nosey idiots with camera phones." Sherlock growled. Placing the carrier down gently, in a move completely incongruous with his body language, he then kicked the door shut in frustration.
"What are you talking about?"
"They tried to take photos of Rosie. Don't worry, only one person managed and the shot was entirely of me grabbing his stupid wrist." Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Someone tried to take a picture of Rosie!?"
John couldn't believe this! Someone actually tried to take a picture of Rosie without their permission. Thank God it was Sherlock there and not John because it would have probably gone undetected by him. It was just horrible. He had to take some deep breaths in order to not go and find the dickhead.
Sherlock took some deep breaths along with John. It occurred to him then that Rosie may be in some distress.
"Daddy, Papa?"
John finally felt calm enough to look Rosie over and put on a semi-calm expression.
"It's alright, Rosie." He assured. "Everything's fine now."
"Why did the man wanna take a picture of me?"
Sherlock wanted to throttle that idiot. How were they supposed to explain to their innocent child that their fame had rubbed off on Rosie? How could he explain that tabloids would pay for a picture of her? Could they even explain to her that going to the park may be dangerous for her? This was an invasion of her privacy before she'd even been able to develop a sense of what that was - a child who relied on other people to change her diapers could hardly be expected to know what personal space was. Sherlock looked helplessly at John for answers, but John didn't seem to have any either.
"Rosie, you know how Papa and Daddy are well known as Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson? Well, some silly people like to take photographs of us because they like what we do when we solve crimes." Sherlock explained.
"Okay."
"Now that they know how much we love you and how special you are, they want to take pictures of you too."
"Me?" Rosie looked shocked but also like she wouldn't mind preening for the camera.
"Yes, darling." John answered. "But it's not nice."
"Daddy and I don't like it because strangers taking pictures without asking permission is very rude." Sherlock said.
"So if they ask it's okay?" Rosie inquired.
"Daddy and Papa will have to decide, depending on the person." Sherlock said.
"No maniacs?" Rosie asked.
"Exactly, we have to be sure that they aren't maniacs." John said, very glad she hadn't remembered the exact phrasing she'd used before. "Now let's see what the ducky did, okay Rosebud? Show me your hand."
Rosie gingerly held out the injured appendage. There was no damage, just a slight red mark which wouldn't even bruise. He prescribed a disinfectant wipe and lots of kisses, which made Rosie giggle.
Sherlock looked at John, with a bit of pleading in his eyes, John seemed to have read the message accurately and he gave Sherlock a comforting hug. Sherlock was worried about how to exit the building without the same drama, but he remembered there was a back door (not that he was about to be honest as to why he knew that).
"Can you let us out the back way, John?" Sherlock asked.
"How did you even - ? Nevermind, you probably have blueprints for the surgery in your mind palace." He shook his head with an eye-roll and gave Sherlock a kiss on the cheek. He lead the way out of the office and to the rear exit.
They caught another cab, without any hassle and returned home without further incident.
Enough is Enough!
Alright this has gone far enough! Sherlock and Rosie went to the clinic today and someone decided to try and sneak a photo of our daughter. THAT IS NOT OKAY! Rosie isn't even a year old, and some of you think that because she's our daughter that she automatically is a target of attention, but she isn't!
To the man who decided to try and take a photo of our daughter in the waiting room, you're lucky it wasn't me who caught you. Things would have not gone smoothly for you if it were me in Sherlock's place.
This is a promise to anyone who takes a photo of Rosie without our permission and sells it or posts it: CONSEQUENCES WILL BE SEVERE.
This is the last I'm going to comment on the subject.
Sherlock had unexpectedly taken John out for a nice dinner and organised for Sally to take Rosie for the night. John was slightly suspicious, because even he had noticed the trend of Sherlock making sexual advances when bad events occurred. When they arrived home he turned to Sherlock at the door to their room and said,
"You really think having sex will solve all our problems, don't you?"
Sherlock gave him a quizzical look and tried to look innocent.
"I have no idea what you mean."
"Every time we have a problem or just come back from a chase, you insist on having sex or taking a further step. I feel like you think sex just makes the problems go away."
"I don't think it solves the problems, that would be idiotic. I have merely been trying to channel my frustration with certain events in a positive way, namely into my libido. Otherwise I'd be walking the streets looking for some other fix."
"It shouldn't be through sex all of the time. I'm not complaining about the sex though, it's great. Brilliant even. I just think it's a good idea for you to find other coping mechanisms."
"John, we both know my only other coping mechanisms are bad ones."
"You don't need a fix, it's just a good idea to have other positive ways to cope."
"You're the best fix I've ever had, is it so wrong of me to want more?" Sherlock said in a sultry tone, trying to change the subject back to the bedroom.
John sighed. Damn Sherlock and his amazing bedroom voice. He knew full well what it did to him.
"We'll talk about this later."
Finally, no more talking, Sherlock knew what he wanted and that was John. Just John, his body, his pleasure, not his psychoanalysis. Sherlock had to shut John's brain down. He started with a particularly sensitive spot he had discovered on John's neck, first a kiss then a little nip, he licked his way up from there to his jawline, kissed along it and by the time he reached John's mouth, he could tell by the heavy breathing that he had achieved his goal.
John managed to open the bedroom door and have them stumble inside, switching on the lights with an elbow because he liked to see Sherlock. He started to take off Sherlock's clothes and kissed every bit of newly revealed skin he got to. Every touch and every kiss set his nerves on fire and he felt that familiar feeling of his body electrifying with lust he always did with Sherlock. When they were on the bed naked, John assumed his detective wanted to do something similar to a week ago when they ground together. He started to rut his cock against Sherlock's with reckless abandon, but Sherlock stopped him, which was incredibly confusing.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"That's not what I want tonight. I want you… to take me… fully." Sherlock managed to say, turning rather red.
John gulped.
"You mean…" He breathed. "You want me to…"
Oh the talking, Sherlock couldn't handle the talking part. He always thought he sounded stupid in these situations. He didn't know how to express it except blatantly, in the most scientific way, which he knew others would find 'cold' and 'not sexy'. Luckily John knew him better than anyone else on the planet, so he hoped it wouldn't 'turn him off'.
"Penetrate me. Yes John. If you're willing…"
'If you're willing'? Of course he was! He wouldn't trade the opportunity for anything unless it was a life or death situation. It made him harder just thinking about doing this to Sherlock. Fuck, it would be hot.
"You have no idea how willing I am to do that." John whispered before ravaging Sherlock with a kiss.
Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief and nervous tension. He was nervous about this, he knew it was an important step and he didn't want fear of pain or anything to ruin this. John had been increasingly 'opening him up' during their sexual activities. Sherlock had insisted they manage four fingers before the main event, that had been simultaneously extremely invasive, but also very pleasurable. However, the main event was now upon him and he was trying not to panic. He had prepared for this beforehand, having administered an enema earlier in the day and making sure that he was cleared of any… remnants… before dinner.
John could tell Sherlock was tense, he wasn't as relaxed as he was when they normally had sex. He could understand it, it was Sherlock's first time after all. He knew he had to ease his detective into it, so he slowed down the kissing to something more sensual and romantic. He wanted it to be special for them, not just the result of urges. John started to kiss down the side of Sherlock's cheek, trailed across his jawline, and down his neck to his nipple. He started to lick, nip, and suck it the way Sherlock liked it which caused Sherlock to start moaning quietly. John started to wonder which way he would prepare Sherlock? Eating him out? Fingers? There were a few options out there.
He decided on just doing what they had been and licked a trail down to Sherlock's cock. He kissed up to the tip of his gorgeous dick and sucked the head into his mouth but didn't go full force like they did when they were incredibly turned on.
John was being very gentle with him, which Sherlock appreciated. Part of him was grateful, the lustful part of him just wanted to hurry it up. He also knew his doctor would take care not to hurt him, which eased his worries from earlier. The sensations on his nipple were driving most of the worries away already, and when John used his mouth on him, they disappeared completely.
John started to bob his head up and down Sherlock's dick at a slow pace. There was no rush this time because Rosie was at Sally's, and no cases were being pursued at the moment. They had all night to do what they wanted and John was going to utilize the time as much as he needed. He made sure to rub his tongue around the shaft when he went up and down and added a bit of suction when he moved upward. Sherlock started to buck his hips, but very gently. Obviously it was working.
John's tongue was doing some fantastic work. The suction he applied was at the perfect level to keep Sherlock relaxed and aroused without bringing him closer to orgasm. Sherlock was trying to control his urge to thrust. He felt John's hands move to the drawer and focussed on the sensations instead of letting himself become distracted by the implications.
John let off for a moment as he found the lube and asked,
"Doing alright?"
Sherlock moaned a confirmation and managed to gasp a 'yes'.
"I'm going to go down to the… back door now, if that's okay?"
"I… prepared for it earlier… but we may need to disinfect the area before you… if it's with your mouth..." Sherlock managed to say, blushing profusely. "There are wipes… in the drawer."
That's… actually quite thoughtful. John thought as he reached in the drawer. Surely enough, he found wipes in the bedside drawer near some condoms. After grabbing a wipe, he also grabbed a condom mainly so there wasn't more of a mess to clean up after their 'festivities'.
"Do you want me to do the wipe, or do you want to do it?"
"I'll... do it, if you wouldn't mind... give me a second." He wriggled out from under John so he could perform the necessary action, thoroughly. The nerves were back, but he tried to breathe through them. When he was finished he tossed the wipe into the bin nearby.
"So what position would you like?" John asked with a heavy blush. "From behind usually works the best for first time anal sex."
"Perhaps, but I think I would prefer… to see you…" Sherlock said quietly.
He wished that these first time nerves would disappear, he wanted this to be natural for them to know each other's wants without the need for questions. Questions were awkward, answering them was almost unbearable, but he had to answer, this was not only his first time, it was John's too - with a man.
"Okay…"
The two positioned themselves so that Sherlock was lying on his back and John was in between his legs. With a stroke of confidence, John lubed up his fingers and circled one finger around Sherlock's entrance. He waited for Sherlock's usual deep breath of relaxation and proceeded to push in slowly. He got up to the first knuckle then pulled out again, only to push in a bit deeper. It was still so tight despite the times they had done fingering in the past. It was almost sinful how tight it was.
Sherlock felt the familiar first breach and tried to consciously relax the ring of muscle, which helped a bit, but never quite stopped that feeling of fullness that such a small digit could provide. He reached up to kiss John sensing that they were both nervous and he thought more of a romantic air would ease that. They kissed each other deeply, breathing shared air as John continued to open him up. This was better, less clinical, he wanted John to feel his hardness and to feel John's in turn, he needed more of an emotional connection as well as the physical one.
"I love you, John." He whispered during a break in the kissing. John's face softened and he gave him a sweet smile.
"I love you too."
John started to move his finger in and out consistently. He tried to focus less on the physical act he was performing and let his deep love for the man he was touching and kissing fill his chest. His heartbeat increased even more and he knew the time for talking was over, this was finally going to happen. He was going to take Sherlock's virginity, Sherlock would be his and his alone. He felt possessive about that and glad he didn't have to be jealous of any previous lovers. Soon more fingers were added and Sherlock was writhing on the bed with beautiful noises escaping his perfect lips. It was the most erotic thing John had ever heard and the fact that it was him doing that to Sherlock was even more incredible.
All thoughts of technicalities and all nervousness left Sherlock as John kissed him and he felt his body against him. Moans escaped him with every brush of his prostate and he let them go with abandon, because there was nobody to disturb and he no longer cared. He felt pleasure and love and was almost overwhelmed by this act that would signify a new consummation of their relationship.
"Take me John, I want you inside me." With his nerves gone, immersed in his emotions, he found himself able to communicate better, in that sultry tone John called his 'bedroom voice'.
"Alright."
John slipped his fingers out, eager to fill Sherlock up with his cock. Even stretched, his hole felt tight around his fingers. He put on the condom he'd gotten out of the drawer and lubed his cock up before lining up with Sherlock's entrance.
"You ready?" He asked breathily.
"Definitely." Sherlock noticed John shiver at the tone, bedroom voice indeed he thought.
With great anticipation and no small measure of excitement, he slowly pushed inside of his lover with as much restraint as he could muster. It was so tight and warm and everything he could ever want. This was what it was like inside of his beloved Sherlock, this was being inside of his amazing detective. He felt his heart (and cock) swell at the thought.
Sherlock had never felt this full, it was an odd experience at the same time as being unbelievably erotic. His thoughts briefly flashed over all the moments he had fallen more in love with John over the years, and this was the culmination of all those feelings, in a single experience. He had memorised every second that he could, to save in his mind palace once the endorphins and other neurotransmitters had stopped flooding his ability to store information. He most certainly did not want to have to dissociate himself from a moment of this magnitude of feeling to go to his mind palace. His insides tingled and his heart overflowed with all the sentiment he'd eschewed for years.
John had been still, allowing Sherlock to adjust but he began to move slowly. He barely moved an inch outward then slowly inward. Sherlock let out an extremely erotic groan. He continued to barely move so that Sherlock would be used to the drag a bit before he started to properly thrust. He still felt a bit of disbelief that something he'd fantasized about for so long was finally happening and he felt more love at that moment than he had ever thought himself capable of.
John's movements stirred not only Sherlock's heart rate and his raging libido, but it felt like John had reached into him in some way, forging a connection between them that could not be broken. This was the final link in a chain between their two hearts, minds and bodies, and Sherlock felt completely fulfilled after so many years of longing and heartbreak. Sherlock lost all connection to reality as John brushed his prostate. He saw nothing but bright light and felt a lightning bolt of pleasure slam into his body, his own penis jerked and he had to calm himself before he orgasmed on the spot.
John started to thrust further and with more power when he saw Sherlock's reaction to hitting a certain spot inside him. The feeling of Sherlock's hole milking his cock was incredible and unlike anything he had experienced before. This was Sherlock doing this to him, and vice versa. It was the most powerful connection for romance he had ever felt in his life. So much was going through his mind and his heart just from thrusting into Sherlock Holmes, the man he would die for if he had to, the man who took on his daughter while he was gone… just the most amazing man in the world. This was Sherlock Holmes, and he was incredible.
Sherlock couldn't restrain his moaning and groans every time John, his John, thrust in and out of him. When John hit his prostate again, he gasped his name out loud without meaning to.
"John!"
That sound made John's hips stutter from how fucking hot it was. Jesus Christ there was nothing Sherlock could do in this moment that wouldn't be hot. John continued to thrust and held himself back from just pounding into his lover. He wanted Sherlock to feel him full force, but reminded himself that Sherlock was a virgin, so it wasn't okay to do that… yet.
Sherlock began to mumble incoherently, John thought he could make out words as they got louder, but he certainly hadn't expected Sherlock to invoke any deities as he was an avowed atheist, and some of the cursing was quite a shock.
"Jesus, fuck, John!"
John didn't know he could get even more turned on and simultaneously feel endearment in this situation. He knew he had made Sherlock feel fantastic and that he had hit his prostate quite a few times. He leaned down and whispered,
"Do you want m-me to pound into you? Want me to fuck you senseless?"
"God yes! Fuck me, John!" Sherlock practically moaned/screamed/yelled.
Everything was speeding up and Sherlock was barely aware of the words coming out of his mouth. He was focussed on the intense pleasure and the passion he felt for his lover and he thought he might be swearing, but he could hear nothing other than John's moans and his question, to which he'd replied automatically without thinking and would probably regret his language later… His testicles were pulling up close to his body and he began to feel the first signs of his orgasm.
"John, I - I'm…"
"Do it." John groaned. "Let go."
John could feel Sherlock's muscles start to contract around him and it made him about to come too. His usual stamina hadn't managed to manifest before he could hold back no longer. Sherlock let out a long moan of his name as he became almost unbearably tight and caused John to come with a gasp. He felt like the entire universe culminated all erotic sensations and put them into Sherlock's amazing arse because holy shit, this was by far the best orgasm he had ever experienced.
Sherlock felt John shudder and thought he even felt a pulsing from his release, his own was shooting in jets across his stomach and chest, without even needing to be touched. He absently thought that he hadn't lasted as long as on previous endeavours, but that was probably to be expected from the anticipation alone. He drew John up to his mouth, not caring that they were both being covered in his fluids. The kiss they gave each other lasted until Sherlock felt John soften inside him and begin to slip out.
John flinched a bit at the overstimulation, but pulled out nonetheless. It was suddenly colder without having Sherlock around him, but he also felt a little disgusting having a now used condom on his dick. He quickly got into the drawer and pulled out some wipes to clean up the semen on the both of them and the lube on Sherlock's arsehole. When that was done he tied up the condom and put it in the bin. That was when he let himself practically fall onto the bed next to his detective and replay the moments they just had in his head.
Sherlock felt bereft at the loss of John inside him. He was stretched out and that felt peculiar but at the same time, he hadn't ever wanted John to leave his body. They cuddled close after John had cleaned them up. Sherlock waited a few minutes for the hormonal avalanche to recede a bit before he entered his mind palace and stored the entire experience there. When he returned to the world, he pulled John's face up for a slow, soft kiss. His heart was bursting at the sheer power of his emotions, and he had to try to calm himself before doing something stupid and embarrassing like shedding tears. He swallowed the lump in his throat and let himself bask in what his research had called 'the afterglow' (apparently for good reason).
They didn't speak before they fell asleep, as they felt the way they were holding each other and what they had experienced spoke volumes.
Sherlock woke earlier than John and for a moment just took in the sensations his body felt the morning after losing his virginity. His rear was tender and despite their preparations, Sherlock thought that it was likely to be painful. He re-lived the memory in his mind palace again and had to concentrate not to allow himself to harden again. John was lying across his chest and he could feel both of their heartbeats thrumming through his body. He kissed John softly on his head and breathed in the scent of him. John began to move slightly and Sherlock worried that he had woken him.
John slowly came back into consciousness and felt content from the warmth surrounding him. He knew Sherlock was cuddling him, but it felt… different than the other times. Maybe because he was still somewhat experiencing the afterglow of the previous night, or maybe he fell in love with Sherlock even more because of it. Whatever it was, it felt fantastic. John stretched his free arm out with a yawn, and smiled up at Sherlock.
"Morning." He said, his voice laced with grogginess.
Sherlock smiled at him,
"Good morning John, I didn't mean to wake you."
"'S fine. We need to wash up anyway."
"Definitely before Donovan drops Rosie off, but she's only due to arrive in another two hours."
"Wait, what time is it?" John asked as he checked his phone.
"Eight o' clock. I suppose my body woke me on Rosie's schedule." Sherlock said wryly.
"You're usually the one waking up with her, so that's why."
"True. Of course, it may be a good thing because it does offer me the opportunity to deal with your morning… excitement." Sherlock said feeling something familiar press into his thigh.
John felt a bit embarrassed that he had morning wood, but he couldn't exactly control it. He blushed.
"Yeah, sorry about that."
"I only just managed to control my own transport's reimaginings this morning, there's no need to apologise."
"Of course you have." John mumbled.
"There was a high probability due to last night's events. Your body is still full of hormones, as you may know -."
"I know, I learned all about it in med school, Sherlock."
"Of course you did. I feel compelled to ask whether you found last night enjoyable…"
John stifled a laugh at Sherlock's bluntness. Leave it to Mr. Science and Chemistry to go for data by asking up front, even if it was about sex.
"Worst pillow-talker ever." John teased.
Sherlock supposed he could have been more subtle with his question, but he felt an urgent need to fill the gaps in his knowledge. If it wouldn't be off-putting to his partner, he would not only ask a multitude of questions, but also ask for comparative blood samples to check hormone levels before and after. Perhaps one day John would indulge him in that. Today, it was apparent he would not. Worst pillow talker ever he thought - well, wasn't that what one was supposed to say? Some asinine derivative of 'how was that for you'?
"Sorry, I was under the impression that was a requisite question." Sherlock said, now in a slightly confused tone.
"There was no segue. That's what was off." John sighed and decided to humor him. "It was probably the best sex I've ever had in my life."
And that was not an exaggeration. It was the best orgasm he had ever experienced, the most emotional attachment during sex, everything he could ever hope for in a first time with someone. Even thinking about it now made him feel warm and tingly all over because it was that incredible. Again, he wondered how he got so lucky with having this brilliant man as his partner.
John had ranked a previous orgasm as second best to a youthful experience with a dirty magazine, so Sherlock wasn't entirely sure whether he now ranked first or not. He wanted to rank first, he wanted as many of John's firsts as he could collect. 'Probably the best sex I've ever had in my life' John had said, was that based on all-round experience, emotional connection, pure physical pleasure, best orgasm? Sherlock needed data and apparently he didn't know how to ask for it. He attempted a joke and hoped it would work, for added effect he said it in his 'bedroom voice'.
"So did I finally beat the dirty magazine for best orgasm?"
This time John laughed, and he laughed hard. He actually forgot that he had talked about the magazine incident, but last night had topped even that.
"A thousand times better than that."
Sherlock had predicted his victory based on the tone of John's laughter, but a verbal confirmation was always better, and a thousand times was quite the compliment. He allowed himself a chuckle - he never could resist laughing with John. He knew he was overthinking things again, but his mind wouldn't stop.
"Why?" He asked simply, hoping it conveyed all the meaning he wanted it to.
"It was… intense… more emotional… and just… felt right."
Sherlock was grateful again that he had shared this experience with his John, the only person who understood him enough to answer a childishly simple question in a way that he could infer data from. His heart swelled with love.
"For me too." He replied, kissing John's forehead.
"Shouldn't I be the one who holds you and gives you kisses after last night? I mean I'm the one who did you..." He raised his head a little and gave a naughty wink.
"I thought we had established an equal partnership, John. However I won't stop you if it's some social custom I'm unaware of." Sherlock smirked.
John maneuvered them so that he was the big spoon and softly kissed Sherlock's neck. This was what he imagined when he thought of him and Sherlock together. This was the thing he had always craved but thought he could never obtain. The difference was it was so much better than he ever imagined. Having Sherlock here in his arms, after so many years of not saying a word about his feelings, was worth more than anything else in the world (other than Rosie).
Sherlock allowed himself to be moved so that John was holding him, he felt the soft, sweet kisses and the love that radiated from John. Sherlock knew he was projecting the same feeling, he hoped John would pick up on that. He interlaced their fingers over his middle and snuggled back into the embrace. There was still at least half an hour of cuddling to enjoy before they needed to ready themselves for Donovan and Rosie. He was delighted to spend every moment of that time with the man he loved.