A/N: Ah! Thanks for the reviews, everything! I should be able to upload at a faster pace because I'm done with school for now. Btw, I've never written one bit of 'romance' so I hope this isn't a total fail. Enjoy!
Warnings: Just some friskiness from our favorite pair. ;)
Chapter Twenty Six: Decisions
He kissed Sherlock. John couldn't believe it. He'd been able to touch the consulting detective like never before. But of course it didn't last long. John's injuries had gotten in the way: he'd strained his stitches and batted his wounds around. John's fingers ghosted over his could praticly feel Sherlock's hot lips still on him.
"Oh god…"whispered John. He lunged towards Sherlock's lips reaffirming their previous connection.
"John," Sherlock moaned quietly into his mouth.
Sherlock's words rumbled against his mouth. The sensation making him savage. He'd never felt this way before, with anyone. Sherlock crept closer into John sending him collapsing into the arm of the couch. Heavy breaths were heaved in and out of both men.
"John…" Sherlock rasped again leaning in to enclose John's supple lips.
Closing the space Sherlock was on top of John. His lanky body starting to fill every crevice that the doctors body made. Their bodies fit together like a puzzle. Each piece finding it's designated spot: but all too soon.
"Augh, Sherlock." Groaned Sherlock.
"Mmm." Responded the detective who found his way to John's, sensitive neck.
"Ahh… Sherlock. You're hurting me."
As soon as the words were uttered Sherlock was off John like lightning speed.
"Oh god i'm so sorry."
John could still clearly see Sherlock's face after their kissing detectives face was full of such raw emotion. He could decipher Guilt and sorrow. All the lust had escaped Sherlock's face. He looked Horrified; Like he'd blown up the whole of London, or worse. The man's repetitive apologies and necessity to see if John was truly alright rang about in his head.
"I'm fine Sherlock."
"No you're not. What hurts?"
"I… I pulled at my stitches and bumped my other injuries. I'm fine."
"I'm so sorry it's all my fault," Sherlock's voice sounded small, so unlike the man he knew.
"It wasn't your fault. I got a little carried away, and I should have know better."
"I should have too… I knew you were hurt. I always cause you more pain."
"Sherlock…"
"I'll send up to check you over."
Before John had a time to protest he was already out of the flat and bounding down the stairs.
Sighing John rubbed his face in his hands. He needed to go out. It'd only been roughly a day from being released from the Hospital but John didn't care anymore. He'd done strenuous activities at home, so he should be fine going out for a short while. Hobbling to the door John snagged his coat on the way out and began his descent down the steps. He couldn't walk too far without aggravating the stitches, so the pub seemed like the best idea. He could drop by a pub, invite Lestrade. Making his way through the threshold he stopped under speedy's awning to send a couple texts.
First to Lestrade:
Going to the pub nearest to Barts hospital. If you're free wanna meet up? -JW
Sure. See you in a few. -GL
Second to Sherlock:
I'm going out for a bit. Need some fresh air. -JW
No response.
"Hey Greg!" John hollered; his hand waving the detective inspector over.
Greg made his way over from across the room. John waved down the waitress and quickly ordered a pint for Lestrade.
"Hello John," Greeted Greg sitting across from John. "You're up and walking a little early don't you think?"
John couldn't help but glare a little at his friend.
"I'm just playing mate. How are you doing?"
"Fine I suppose." John replied taking a long swig from his pint.
"I disagree. I know I have nothing close to Sherlock's ability to deduce, but I can certainly tell when one of my friends aren't doing very good."
John smiled at this. "Compared to Sherlock, in this area of emotions, you may have him beaten; because you are right. I'm not doing okay."
Lestrade stayed silent waiting for John to continue. He only spoke to thank the waitress who had brought over his drink, thanking her.
"Well, I'm a little messed up right now because of the whole event with… you know: him. The wounds aren't that bad, they're healing up nicely. Emotionally I feel pretty stable about the whole ordeal. But…" John stopped.
He really didn't want to share all this with Greg. He was a good person, great friend, and John knew he wouldn't tell anyone about what he said. It was like Lestrade had read his mind.
"I won't tell anyone John. Whatever you say, it'll stay between us."
Draining the rest of his pint John waved for a new one and continued on. "It's Sherlock."
"What did that git do this time?"
"Well, he kissed me."
Greg choked on his beer. John snickered on the fact but became slightly nervous when it took him awhile to calm down.
"I'm fine," reassured Greg. "Seriously, after everything that had happened?"
"Yeah. But to be truthful I may have led him on and recuperated." John couldn't look his friend in the eye anymore. Instead he took the utmost interest in the oak wood table.
"Oh. Does that mean you guys are a…?"
"I don't know what it means Lestrade. I mean, I'm not gay."
"There's nothing wrong with being gay John. If you are straight that's fine too."
"I know, I know. I just… I don't know."
"You sound absolutely nuts you know that John." Lestrade Snorted waving over another pint for him and his friend.
Meanwhile:
I'm going out for a bit. Need some fresh air. -JW
Sherlock stared at the text on his screen. John really Shouldn't be going out. He was injured, and in pain no thanks to Sherlock. Rethinking that he decided Sherlock wasn't really the best at deciding what was good for John or not and let John go. He would be back soon. He couldn't go that far on his leg. And if he took a cab, it was only to a pub. John hadn't taken a bag when he left, so he wasn't going to stay with anyone.
This relieved Sherlock greatly. What if the kiss they had had disgusted John up to a point of leaving him? Sense John was still here Sherlock held in great comfort that John would stay. He just need a little air, like he said.
Creek… Creek…
The all too familiar sounds of Mycroft's walking echoed up the his bedroom, where he had held himself up, he strolled out into the kitchen to make himself some tea. Wandering in he decided against it. The kitchen was a danger zone no doubt setting off toxic fumes.
"Sherlock," greeted Mycroft.
"Mycroft, what bring you to my flat. Out of cake?"
"Really, must we continue this brotherly feud?"
Sherlock thought about this for a moment. He knew why the feud had started, and why it was there. He also knew why he continued it: defenses.
"Why are you here Mycroft."
"Sherlock i'm trying to make it up to you." Mycroft pleaded.
"Trying to make up all those years of pain? All those years of torment and guilt. You can never make it up Mycroft." Sherlock seethed, his eyes a tornado of anger.
"I suppose I can only make our relationship more preferable."
"Think what you like. Why are you here?"
"Its about Moriarty and John."
"What about them?"
"Moriarty is once again trying to make an impression. He sent multiple photos of John during his entrapment to my office. Secondly, he decided to make a scene today at Big Ben. He hung a person that look somewhat like you from the tower. He also dressed this man in the same clothing you wear. On the ground he painted this in blood."
Mycroft handed over a manila folder filled with pictures and police reports to Sherlock. Opening the folder the first photo staring back up at him was the bloodied painting below Big Ben. It was the design in Sherlock's calf. A heart with a J inscribed in the middle. Then a line was slashed through it. The same thing Sherlock had done to himself. Similar to what Moriarty had inflicted on John. Closing the file he thought it'd be better to sift through the file when his brother had left.
"What about John?"
"Brother you know how sentiment can be. Are you sure you want to pursue anything with John?"
"Weather or not I have a relationship with John is nothing of your concern Mycroft. So why don't you piss off and stay out of my business."
"I do care Sherlock. I didn't come to talk you out of it. We know how you react when people try to persuade you. I just want to remind you that love comes with hurt. And I know you don't want to hurt John Watson."
"You may leave now Mycroft," snipped Sherlock.
"Good day brother of mine."