Chapter 11 — You're Driving Me Crazy

When he was awakened by a text alert the following morning, Sherlock took a moment to kiss the back of John's neck before rolling over to check his phone. Turning back to his boyfriend, Sherlock nuzzled into his curls. "Time to wake up, love. We've got a case."

"Mmm… Good morning," John said, snuggling back into Sherlock's arms.

Sherlock gave his boyfriend a squeeze before dragging himself out of bed. As John moved to follow him, Sherlock saw him wince slightly. Memories of their previous night came flooding back, and he was instantly concerned.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little twinge."

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Sherlock, I'm fine. You didn't hurt me. Now come on, let's get moving. I don't want you blaming me if we're late to the crime scene and you miss some essential piece of evidence."

Soon they were dressed and heading down the stairs. Sherlock noticed that John was moving a little more stiffly than usual. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, worry evident in his voice.

"Yeah, just a little sore."

"Oh my god, John, I'm so sorry. I knew I hurt you last night."

"Sherlock, stop worrying. I'm sure it's completely normal to be a little sore the next day."

Sherlock was not reassured, but he didn't want to continue their conversation on the pavement in front of 221B. He tried to hail a taxi with his usual aplomb, but inside he was filled with remorse. John was in pain, and it was all his fault.

Once they were seated in the back of the cab, Sherlock turned to John and whispered, "I'm so, so sorry. I never should have tried three fingers. I could feel how tight you were, and I should have known I was going to hurt you. Do you want to go back to bed? I can text Lestrade and tell him we're not coming."

"Don't be silly. There's nothing wrong with me. And if you think I'd rather lie around the flat than follow you on a case, you've lost your mind. Come on, stop fussing over me."

Sherlock tried to push his anxiety aside, but every time he glanced at John he felt the guilt swelling inside him. When he saw his boyfriend grimace slightly as he climbed out of the taxi, Sherlock started to say, "I'm sorr-" but John cut him off before the words were halfway out of his mouth.

"Oh my god, Sherlock, if you say 'I'm sorry' one more time, I'm going to smack you!" he yelled, exasperated.

At the look of shock on his boyfriend's face, John quickly corrected himself. "You know I'd never really hit you. Well, not unless you asked me to. But you're driving me crazy here – and not in a good way. Why won't you believe me when I say I'm okay? It's my body, and I know how it feels. Your fingers may have been inside me last night, but you're not in there right now, so you don't get to be the expert on how I'm feeling. If I say you didn't hurt me, then you didn't hurt me! Now, I am not going to discuss this in front of half the Yard, so that's the end of this conversation. We've got a crime scene to investigate. Come on."

Sherlock followed meekly in his wake, stunned into silence.

…

Back at Baker Street that evening, Sherlock and John held hands as they walked up the stairs to 221B. Sherlock had been watching his boyfriend surreptitiously all day, and he was pleased to note that John seemed to be moving normally now.

When they entered the flat, John pulled Sherlock into the bedroom. Both men kicked off their shoes before lying down together on top of the duvet. Sherlock rolled onto his back, and John snuggled against him, resting his head on Sherlock's chest.

Wrapping his arms around his boyfriend, and running the fingers of one hand through his hair, Sherlock said, "I didn't mean to make you angry with all of my apologies this morning. I was just really worried about you. You seemed like you were in pain, and you know I never want to hurt you."

"I know. And I'm sorry I yelled at you. But I felt like you weren't listening to me when I kept telling you that I'm okay. And you were acting like you did something to me, when really, we did something together. Something that I really wanted, and really enjoyed. And would really like to do again, by the way. So I don't want you to have any regrets about last night."

"All right. I'm listening now," Sherlock said, gathering John even closer. "So tell me how you're feeling, and I promise I'll believe you."

John nuzzled up under Sherlock's chin, kissing his neck. "Okay. Well, I do feel a little sore, but it's not a bad kind of sore. I just feel like my body's been stretched in a new way, and so I'm more aware of it, but it doesn't actually hurt. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah, that makes sense."

"And I think it's like with anything new – the more we practice, the easier it will get."

Sherlock smiled. "That could be fun…"

…

A few nights later, Sherlock and John were cuddled up in bed, discussing their next "practice session." Sherlock was trying to remember all the details of the Go Ask Alice article about how to give a prostate massage. "They called it 'the male hot spot,' so it has to be good," he said. "Do you want me to try, and you can see if you like it?"

John hummed his agreement, trailing kisses down the side of Sherlock's neck. As Sherlock reached for the lube and the baby wipes they'd bought for easy clean up, John nipped him on the shoulder. "Someone's moving awfully fast. Whatever happened to foreplay?"

"I just thought I'd get everything ready now, so we don't have to interrupt ourselves later," he explained, rolling over on top of his boyfriend.

John smiled up at him. "Well, okay then."

Sherlock brought their lips together in a lazy kiss. John responded in kind, kissing him back slow and sweet. Sherlock lost track of time as they lay together, trading kisses that gradually deepened, until both were hard and panting.

Sherlock pulled himself away from John's lips to kiss his way down his boyfriend's body, fumbling with one hand to find the bottle of lube. When he reached John's cock, he paused for a moment to draw the head into his mouth and lick at the slit. John moaned, thrusting up against his tongue. Sherlock pulled off, causing John to whine in protest.

Sherlock sat back on his heels, flipping open the cap of the bottle, and coating his first two fingers. Catching John's eye, he asked, "Is this okay?"

"Definitely."

Sherlock smiled at that, bringing his index finger to John's entrance and gently pushing inside. He noted with relief that he slipped in more easily this time. He'd been trying not to worry, but a small part of him was still concerned about the possibility of hurting his boyfriend. John seemed relaxed, though, and his pleased little noises were music to Sherlock's ears.

"Should I try two?"

"Mmmm hmmm."

John felt a little tight around his fingers, but Sherlock definitely had more wiggle room than the last time. He took advantage of this, crooking his fingers up in the beckoning motion the website had recommended. At first he wasn't quite sure what he was looking for. He knew immediately when he found it, though, as John let out a low moan that was unmistakably pleasure rather than pain.

"Oh my god, that was amazing. I'm never going to be able to give another prostate exam without blushing. Do it again."

Sherlock was more than happy to oblige. He stroked rhythmically along the bundle of nerve endings, causing John to cry out with every press of his fingertips.

Using his free hand to anchor his boyfriend's hips to the bed, Sherlock leaned forward and took John's cock into his mouth. He continued to rub against John's prostate as his boyfriend thrashed wildly beneath him. Soon John was coming, hot, down his throat.

Sherlock could feel John's muscles clenching around his fingers. He carefully pulled them out, quickly cleaning himself off with a baby wipe.

John reached for him, drawing him down into a tight embrace. Sherlock could feel John's heart beating frantically against his chest, and hear his ragged breathing in his ear. He held on tightly, trying to steady his boyfriend with the weight of his body. Gradually, John's heart rate slowed, and his breathing calmed.

Sherlock lifted himself up slightly to gaze into his boyfriend's dazed eyes. "How do you feel?"

It took John a moment to find his voice to answer. "Un-fucking-believable."