This chapter is dedicated to Snowrabbit, who was looking for a little more John/Sherlock interaction. Now I'm not sure if this is what you had in mind...but this was already in the works when you asked. I hope it fills a need. A thousand times thank you for your request.
And lastly I'd just like to show some love for the legendary Mad_Lori for her heartbreaking, brilliant work "Alone On The Water." I used that phrase below and it just didn't seem right not to acknowledge how important that fic is to our fandom. So to Mad_Lori, mad thanks.
Berlin, Germany
"You're late." Mercy was stern.
"I'm here. My team is in place."
"I know. And?"
"And what?" John's conversation (confrontation?) with the elder Holmes had left him more certain then ever that he was going to peruse things with Sherlock. And if the British Government couldn't deter him then Mercy sure as hell wasn't going to either.
"And. What caused the delay?" Mercy already knew, as knowledge was her job, but she pushed John to tell her.
"You know my exact whereabouts every second of every day. You tell me?"
"J, this is dangerous ground."
"You sound like someone else I know."
"Well general consensus may not be wrong."
"I care fuck all about general consensus! So let me suggest that you acclimatize yourself to the new normal yeah? Now if we could crack on there's a black market organ dealer I need to see to."
Unlike Mycroft, Mercy could hear the angry Gaelic in John's voice and knew it was time to give up. And so she did. "Copy that. Good luck J."
John smiled satisfied that Mercy seemed to realize that to John this was worth all the danger it could bring. " Thank you Mercy."
John pushed up his night vision goggles and looked about his surroundings. He couldn't help but think he was paid far too much money to creep around in dark alleys. There was a bit more to the job then that but essentially creeping in dark alleys was the gist. John smiled at his thoughts and pulled on his Condor shooters gloves preparing to take the building across the street when a shadow slipped around the corner not three feet in front of him. He would have know that silhouette anywhere.
John grabbed Sherlock by the waist and forced him against the wall with his body. "How in the hell do you keep finding me?"
Sherlock tensed for the space of a second before he softened in John's grasp and smiled.
"John." Sherlock somehow managed to tisk in a secductive manner. "Detective." He leaned in to nip a kiss at John's smiling lips resting his hand on John's biceps.
"Cheeky Monkey." John grinned and kissed back still holding Sherlock by the waist. "You're going to blow my cover."
"Mmm. Blow." Sherlock's eyes flared with heat and he tilted his head in a coy fashion his smile was pretty and full of mischief. He spidered his fingers into the waist band of John's paints pulling him to and eating up what little space had come between them.
John watched the stark white digits against his black clothing and realized he had a thing for Sherlock's long delicate fingers. Hell he had a thing for every facet of the gorgeous man. John chuckled at the easy lust that flared up between them. How they craved each other at the slightest touch and became hard at the notion of more. God the more. The things John wanted with this man. Right here in this alley. And beyond. Not just this visceral need but there had been an emotional thread sown between them as well and John was eager to see what it would become.
"No. Not this time you. This time... together." John's words trailed off bitting his lip and looking down as he undid Sherlock's perfect trousers and shoved his gloved hand down the front. Sherlock jerked and his breath hitched at the feel of the cool leather working over his hot flesh, pulling his cock free into the brisk night air.
Sherlock shivered but didn't let this chilly exposure keep him from his own goal of working John's fly open and pressing their heat together.
Sherlock slid down the wall just enough to bring them that final bit closer in all the right ways. John understood the action and hurried to wedged himself between Sherlock's thighs pressing them as close as was possible. They kissed like battle. Each man hungrier then the other. Kissing dissolved into open mouth panting with their foreheads pressed together smiling into each other's eyes before the hunger would overtake them and the kissing would rage again.
Sherlock couldn't help but think. "This is insanity." Here he was the worlds only consulting detective rutting in an alley in Berlin with an assassin and loving it. Maybe if he weren't constantly hungry for John every second they were apart, or maybe if this moment weren't so perfectly exhilarating, maybe if the shock waves weren't shooting through his body at the slightest brush of their cocks, maybe then he could pull himself (and his clothes) back together and find his way to sanity. John had other plans though. He grabbed Sherlock's wrist and guided his large hand to nearly wrap around them both. John hissed at the feel of their cocks pressed together and jerked in Sherlock's hand. Sherlock curled his fingers around them and stroked their cocks in this obscene and beautiful back alley wank.
"Holy hell." John rained fervent kisses over Sherlock's mouth, chin and throat they nuzzled and bumped lips and noses in an effort to share each other from breath to heart beat. Sherlock pressed his cheek to John's in what was almost a kiss coupled with the sounds of heavy breath and low moans.
"God John."
They clung to each other they moved together in Sherlock's grip hot hard and desperate. John's hands roved over Sherlock's body unsure where he wanted to touch him most. His curls, his neck, his cock. John's gloved fingers settled over their cocks at the moment of climax he cupped his palm and tried in vain to stem the tide. They kissed each other deeply, lovingly through the shared spasms.
John's chest heaved, and he rested on Sherlock in the aftermath sharing the folds of his coat soaking in Sherlock's heat and sent lost to the sound of his blood buzzed loudly in his ears and the rapid thud of Sherlock's heart. "What are you doing to me?" John rested his forehead against Sherlock's now and asked in such away that it made Sherlock's heart swell.
"No more then you've done to me." Sherlock rubbed his curls against John's face like a contented cat.
"Good to know I'm not *alone on the water.*" John pulled back and kissed the tip of Sherlock's nose. They separated just enough for Sherlock to put John back together and then himself. John stripped his glove off turning it inside out and shoving it into his pocket.
"I should go." Sherlock was flushed and a little disheveled and so pretty it hurt.
"No. You shouldn't." The words where out before John could stop himself. Now it was John's turn to blush."Yes, you should. I have a job to do and I don't want you anywhere near this."
Sherlock nodded his agreement puzzled by John's ability to soothe him into compliance. Whatever John wanted Sherlock wanted. And so Sherlock turned the collar up on his Belstaff and gathered his great coat around him. John watched the man smother himself in his protective armor.
"Text me when you're done here." Sherlock tried to sound nonchalant, but after what they'd just shared that was impossible, Sherlock's voice didn't have that caviler tone he'd been aiming for. John made to reassure him with his response.
"Of course Love." John's smile beamed in the dark alley and warmed Sherlock more then his Belstaff ever could.
Sherlock couldn't help but smile in return steal one last kiss and ducked back around the corner he'd come from.