Chapter 14
Rated M
John Watson stepped off the Amtrak train at Union Station in Dallas in the State of Texas. According to his ID's, he was Peter Franklin and a British writer traveling for recreation in the United States.
John felt grateful to have traveled for nearly a day and a half on a normal passenger train with normal luggage and normal clothes. Well, almost normal clothes, Sherlock had seemingly developed a new hobby called 'lets dress up John'. Today, Sherlock had his blogger dressed in khakis and a black tee-shirt with an expensive black linen and silk sports coat. John didn't really recognize himself in the mirror anymore. Fancy clothes, bleached blond hair and expensive shades were not really his style.
John picked up his soft-sided designer suit case and the backpack that carried the items he felt were really important (his new blue jumper, emergency money, food and water, hand torches, spare hand torches, spare batteries for the torches, lube and condoms.) John blushed as he mentally ran down his list of essential items. Still, the lube and condoms had come in pretty handy the other night. And you never knew when the torches would be needed again.
John pretended not to see the tall, thin, auburn-headed detective who traveled under the name of Sven Sigerson. He was dressed in his usual fitted suit and button down shirt despite his bitter complaints over their lack of tailoring. Shite. The detective was glaring; he had caught John looking at him-again. John lowered his head and headed toward the taxi queue. The soldier very carefully did not look at Ahsan,aka Ali Kahn, who stood only two meters away looking straight at John.
John could not help but observe that both Sherlock and Ahsan effortlessly got taxis while he still waited. In frustration, John boarded a bus that took him many miles away from the Ritz-Carlton Hotel where Sherlock had booked rooms. A kind, old lady, with lavender hair, took pity on him and finally pointed him to the right bus.
Perhaps he should have texted Sherlock to advise him about John's unavoidable delay. However, John scrupulously observed the Sherlock mandated No Unnecessary Mobile Phone Usage rule, since the detective had thrown a fit when John had phoned Mrs. Hudson the other day. The protracted arguments resulting from that phone call had resulted in Sherlock flouncing around the hotel room for hours and John sulking forever in a Starbucks in Little Rock, in the State of Arkansas. The lube and condoms had, in fact, been an integral part of John and Sherlock's reconciliation. The memory of said reconciliation distracted John, and he missed his stop.
He finally got off the bus and walked several blocks in the hot sun to reach the Ritz Carlton Hotel. He only requested directions three times.
John, AKA Peter Franklin, approached the front desk to register. As he signed in, he was given several messages from Messrs Sigerson and Kahn. John glanced at the messages and sighed. His so-called team was angry at him-again.
John went up to his luxury suite with heavy feet and a heavy heart. His luggage felt pretty heavy too. Naturally, the bellhop had not seen fit to assist John Watson who was apparently invisible to taxi drivers, bellhops and even doormen.
John fumbled with the keycard and finally gained entrance into his room. It was indeed luxurious, with a king size bed and opulent furnishings. It came complete with an irate consulting detective who lunged out of nowhere to confront his errant blogger.
"Is it remotely possible for you to follow simple instructions, John?" demanded Sherlock, looming over the shorter blond. "All I asked, was that you get off the train, avoid contact with me or Ahsan, obtain a taxi and come to the hotel. It should have taken ten minutes, twenty at the most. And I saw you staring at me at the station. Do never stop to think? Do you ever use that tiny brain for anything other than ogling large-breasted women and locating the nearest pub?"
"Well since I ogled you, are you saying that you are a large-breasted woman?" John awarded himself two points as Sherlock's eyes goggled at that remarkable display of logic. "And I did not look for pubs, which they don't have pubs in America, they have bars," said John wearily. "But I could really use a pint now." He dropped his luggage in the middle of the room.
"And did it occur to you to use your phone or to even turn it on?" demanded the pale, angry detective.
"You said, No Unnecessary Mobile Phone Usage, so I turned off m'phone," said John stripping off his shoes, trousers and jacket.
"You are an idiot, John Watson, an idiot like Anderson. You never stop to think….Blah. Blah, blah, blah..." John did not listen to the rest of the tirade. Once he was an equated with an idiot like Anderson, any further attempt at discussion was bound to end in a furious argument. No doubt, the skinny git was bored and looking for a fight.
Rather than argue with the furious man, John unlocked the complimentary refreshment center, took out a beer, and then locked himself in the luxurious bathroom, which included a large inviting tub. He ignored the escalating protests of his team-member/lover. Instead, John ran the tub and filled it with some bath oil. Sadly, his beer was already half gone,
John stepped into the tub as Sherlock burst in. John was only surprised that the detective had waited this long before picking the lock. Sherlock had problems respecting personal space.
Luckily for John, the sight of his completely naked blond blogger stepping into the tub short-circuited Sherlock's hard-wiring. Sherlock took a moment to admire the well-muscled legs attached so conveniently to the rounded buttocks, and all nicely dusted with very light-brown hair. Then they disappeared into the water. Water droplets clung to the hairs on John's chest, inviting more observation.
"John," Sherlock managed to croak out.
John ignored his now flushed companion and laid back into the tub for a good soak. "If you insist on staying, Sherlock, please bring me another beer. Help yourself while you're at it," John closed his eyes, relaxing in the hot, chamomile and lavender-scented water.
"I worried when you were late, John," admitted the detective who quietly sat on the edge of the tub. "What happened? No, I know what happened. You, somehow, failed to get a taxi. Judging from the grime on your trousers and shoes, you chose to board a bus. As usual, you took the wrong one and got lost. Judging by your hot, sweaty and wrinkled appearance, you walked several blocks to finally arrive at our hotel, nearly two hours late."
"Yes, indeed, Sherlock, brilliant as always. Still, I'm sorry I worried you," muttered John, with his eyes still closed. He finished his first beer and debated with himself whether a second beer was really a good idea anyway.
He heard a splash and frowned, and then he felt the large feet and skinny legs of his lover settling alongside him.
"You might prefer leaning against me, Sherlock. That faucet won't feel very good against your back," said John, the second beer forgotten.
A moderate amount of water splashed onto the floor before Sherlock was nestled between John's legs, leaning against the doctor's strong chest. John absently rubbed the thin but tightly muscled arms of his lover who rested his auburn head on John's good shoulder. John's hands moved over to caress the chest of his lover.
John realized that Sherlock's neck was extended only inches from his mouth. He began to kiss and suckle the neck of the beautiful man in front of him.
In the end, John did not get to relax in his luxurious tub. The lube and condoms were also deemed unnecessary since John and his detective brought each other to orgasm with their hands, soap and scented bath oils.
However, John was forced to request several extra towels since the bathroom floor was quite flooded with the chamomile and lavender-scented water.
A/N Sorry, short chapter. I will post the next chapter very soon.
Thank you to everyone who follows this story and especially to those who have reviewed my work. I love hearing your comments, suggestions and constructive criticism. Thank you! Thank you!
Disclaimer- I own no rights to Sherlock Holmes or John Watson.