Within milliseconds of stepping out of the taxi, John found himself pressed against the door of 221b Baker Street with one leg wrapped around Sherlock Holmes' hips and two invasive arms sliding underneath his shirt. Sherlock's mouth was hungry against his, moving with determined force that meant John had no hope in hell of controlling the encounter. He ran his hands through Sherlock's hair and gripped tightly, bringing their heads together as close as physically possible, and Sherlock changed the course of his hands; slipping them into John's trousers and digging his nails desperately into his thighs and arse. John's mouth wavered, his lips stuttering silently against Sherlock's, and he heard a gentle click as Sherlock twisted the door handle and unlocked it. The door swung open and John begun to untangle his arms and legs; losing all sense of control as Sherlock gripped both thighs and wrapped them once more around his back. Sherlock was holding him up and staring deeply and imposingly into his eyes as he walked upstairs to the apartment, not breaking contact for a second.

Their breath combined into a shroud of heat that engulfed all of John's senses, leaving him disorientated and breathless. He could feel the gentle warmth of Sherlock's lips travelling across his jaw line and down to the middle of his chest, and he snapped back to reality as he felt the back of his head hit the soft familiarity of his bedcovers. Sherlock was straddling his hips, frantically unbuttoning his shirt and tearing it slightly as he pulled it off. John bit the inside of his mouth to stop the gasp he felt escaping and he stared up, taking in the new sight and indulging in Sherlock's vulnerability. He was toned and smooth, the lines around his muscles clear and bulging. John reached up and traced the veins on Sherlock's biceps, shivering as Sherlock leant down and kissed each of his fingers tenderly.

'You've never been with a man before, have you John?'

'No. I'm going to be completely honest and say I'm clueless as to what to do next.'

'Do you trust me?'

'I love you, Sherlock.'

'And I love you too, so just follow me.'

John sat up against the headboard and Sherlock helped him remove his shirt, kissing him quickly as soon as his head reappeared. Sherlock stood and unbuckled his belt, stepping out of his jeans carefully as they fell to his ankles. John sat transfixed, staring as the light from the streetlamp outside the window highlighted every contour of Sherlock's slender form. His face was turned off to the side, and his dark brown hair was casually messed and sticking out in all directions. It made his profile even more striking, and John couldn't help standing slowly and reaching out to run his fingers through it. Sherlock gripped John's arse with his left hand and pulled him close, using his other hand to unbutton John's trousers and tug them down so John could lift his feet out of them easily. Sherlock took John's hand and stroked it tenderly over his erection, hissing at the unfamiliar contact. Touching Sherlock in so intimate a way snapped something inside of John, and, giving in to his newly-awakening sexual appetite, he slowly lowered himself to his knees in front of Sherlock's hips. John traced the length of Sherlock's notably large cock with his index finger, pressing it up against the bottom of Sherlock's stomach. He placed slow, gentle kisses through the fabric of Sherlock's underwear- following down from the tip to the base. Sherlock staggered back and rested his head against the apartment window, watching the man he used to call his best friend handle his cock with no visible reservations. 'You'd think-'John looked up at Sherlock, whose face was dotted with sweat, 'that having received one of these from a man already, I'd know what to do.' 'Try and think what you would want done to you.' Sherlock twisted John's hair between his fingers and smiled at him reassuringly. 'It's only natural you won't be amazing on your first time. We can work on that later.' John hesitated for a second, visualising what Sherlock had done to him previously. He snapped down the waistband of Sherlock's underwear so his erection sprung forward and rested gently against his lips, and he proceeded to spit on his hand. He heard Sherlock gulp and understood that he'd made a good move, beginning to slowly pump up and down Sherlock's overexcited cock. Sherlock's hips had already begun moving very slowly in time with his hand, and John decided to exact revenge on the many times he had been left wanting more. He very lightly brushed Sherlock's shaft and kissed underneath his belly button, trailing down with his lips and teasing around his thighs and dick. Sherlock practically growled and exhaled deeply, a sign that John was doing a good job of making Sherlock want him. He kissed and licked the shaft, circling the head with the tip of his tongue. Sherlock's breathing was shallow and controlled, with jagged moans occasionally escaping. He was trying and failing to contain his pleasure, and John could see the effect he was having. He slowly took Sherlock's balls into his mouth, playing with each one gently and feeling the tortured man tense up in every possible way. John gripped the base of Sherlock's cock gently, stroking up and down and following with his mouth. He let the tip drag across the roof of his mouth and savoured the feeling. He had never tasted anything like it before, and in any other circumstance he probably would have found it repulsive. The fact that it was Sherlock Holmes and he'd been fantasising about it for several weeks made it satisfying and pleasurable. John gagged as Sherlock instinctively arched his back, forcing his cock further into John's throat. He moaned and gripped John's head aggressively, thrusting his hips in rhythm until he was practically fucking John's mouth and John had to reach up and claw at Sherlock's chest to warn him that he was losing control. On his final thrust, Sherlock withdrew himself from John's mouth and sunk to the floor his breathing jagged and sluggish. John settled himself between Sherlock's hips, searching his eyes for any sign of regret or worry. 'Did I do something wrong?' 'No, oh goodness no John. That was- you are perfect. I just didn't want to cum just yet.' 'Why not? You seemed to be enjoying it- if I do say so myself.' 'I need to fuck you. I've been planning it for weeks and I've waited long enough.' John felt his cock twitch and his stomach drop. He hadn't even considered the possibility that Sherlock would have sex with him that night; he assumed that if any penetration would occur then it would be his control. He could've slapped himself for being so naïve- of course Sherlock would want to be the dominant partner. Sherlock Holmes was not a man for submission. 'You said you loved me? Prove it to me. Trust me enough to let me have you.' Sherlock dragged his fingertips down John's chest and traced the waistband of his underwear, snapping it teasingly and leaning forward, begging for permission. John gulped and slid his underwear off, standing in front of the bed and extending his hand to Sherlock. 'Tell me what to do. And please, be gentle. I know what you're like.' Sherlock stepped up to John and turned him around, so his erection was pressed against John's lower back. He brushed his hands across John's stomach and chest, kissing across his shoulders and biting gently at his neck. He rested his hand on John's shoulder and very slowly bent him forward, over the edge of the bed. 'I'm going to prepare you now John, so I want you to brace yourself.' John closed his eyes and began to stroke himself, focusing on the pleasure he was creating rather than the pain that was about to occur. Sherlock gently pressed one finger into him and he hissed, automatically tensing. 'You have to relax or this is going to be much more difficult than it should be.' John exhaled and Sherlock withdrew himself. 'Do we have lube?' John's words were barely a whisper, and his whole body was shaking. 'I've been prepared for a while. I have some here.' Sherlock reached under the bed and conjured a small clear bottle of lubricant, applying it liberally to three of his fingers. 'Three? Are you sure?' 'Not to flatter myself John, but I wouldn't exactly call myself average sized. I would rather die than cause too much pain to you, so I need to make sure that this goes as easily as possible.'

John gasped as Sherlock reinserted his finger, adding another and softly stroking circles around John's lower back. The sensation was alien to John- something altogether inexperienced. He clenched and Sherlock withdrew once more, leaning down to kiss John's neck and whisper to him;

'You need to trust me.'

A third finger was inserted and John grunted in discomfort, releasing staggered shaking breaths and continuing to jerk himself off.

'Do you think you're ready?' Sherlock began to slowly brush John's arse with the tip of his cock, making him tremble in anticipation.

'As ready as I'll ever be.' John winced and Sherlock spat onto the rim of his arse, making him twitch in shock. It was warm, and comforting to the burning pain that he had just experienced. The comfort didn't last for long as Sherlock began to push himself in slowly, causing John to cry out on pain and dig his fists into the bed sheets.

John certainly wasn't as ready as he thought he was. Sherlock wasn't even halfway in and a feeling of unbearable burning spread throughout his body- he was much larger than John had anticipated. Sherlock groaned and pushed in further, clawing at John's thighs desperately and pulling out smoothly and carefully. John felt as if his body was trying to reject the intrusion, the unknown object invading places that had never been touched before. With a husky moan, Sherlock thrust up further inside and John's eyes shot open, feeling his prostate being stimulated. He almost felt his entire body buzzing, and his arms and legs became numb to every feeling but pleasure.

Sherlock had hit a regular rhythm and moved John's hips further back onto his cock, reaching around to stroke John's erection while spitting ferocious mumbles of pleasure into his ear. John's eyes began to roll back in their sockets as he felt the repeated contact of Sherlock's cock with his prostate, and the combined euphoria of Sherlock's fist pumping his cock too brought him close to peak already.

'J-John, I'm going to cum, so if you wouldn't m-mind'- Sherlock pulled out and spun John around, so he was on his back. He straddled John's hips once more and grasped both of their cocks between his hands, stroking them as one and kissing John with every ounce of love and lust and need that he could show. John smiled against Sherlock's lips and held his head close, numb to the friction between them and silently wishing that they could stay in the moment for the rest of their lives. He decided then and there that all he ever wanted was to be with Sherlock Holmes.

He would never be alone again as long as he had the fantastic man to love and care for him, and he felt complete. Sherlock's lips hesitated against his as they came together, exhausted, and for what seemed like a lifetime they lay in silence until Sherlock kissed John on the forehead, whispered final words of love and moved him fully onto the bed, pulling the cover over them both and delicately falling asleep with John Watson in his arms.

The next morning, John awoke and stretched his arms out, turning to face the love of his life. He wasn't there. John panicked for a moment, wondering if the entire evening had been a dream and Sherlock was still locked up in Pentonville awaiting rescue, but he calmed himself down after seeing Sherlock's shoes by the bedroom door. He wrapped himself in his dressing gown and practically skipped into the living room, beaming as he saw Sherlock sitting at his computer with a cup of coffee.

'Good morning you. Didn't think about making me a cup of coffee then?' John placed his hand on Sherlock's shoulder, and it was shrugged off.

'You're perfectly capable of making your own coffee aren't you?'

'Well, yes I suppose.' John sighed. 'I knew it was a miracle hoping everything would change, but then I should be happy with the things that have happened already.'

'Nothing much has happened, really.' Sherlock stared at his computer unblinkingly and made no attempt to acknowledge John.

'Oh don't tell me you're going to do the whole 'back to work' act again, please. I've had enough waiting and pretending, can't we just be happy for once and accept that we're-'

'Oh yes, about last night. I suppose I should explain my experiment; I was conducting an experiment on how a man's sexual responses change when reacting to the idea of love. I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression John, but you were a marvellous subject and I got conclusive results, so thank you.'

'You- I'm sorry? You said-'

'Me? In love? You should know by now that I don't waste my time with such triviality.'