Author's Note: Mentions of noticeable arousal to follow.
John set the two mugs of tea he was caring on the coffee table and sat next to Sherlock, who was perched on the sofa, his legs drawn up so that his knees were tucked under his chin.
As John leaned back into the cushions and reached down into the crevasse by the arm of the sofa to retrieve the novel he had stashed there earlier he was a little surprised to suddenly find his lap full of consulting detective.
"Hi," John said, pulling his hand out of the sofa, wrapping his arm around the dark haired man and resting his hand anew at Sherlock's waist. "Bored?" Sherlock nodded and leaned his head on John's shoulder.
John sighed as Sherlock's scent and weight settled over him. They sat like that, John content and Sherlock bored with trying to name the individual colours of the various grey hairs on John's head that he could see, until Sherlock leaned forward and placed a small kiss to John's jaw, just in front of his ear. Sherlock mouthed a line down the doctor's jawbone ending at John's chin. Sherlock tipped his head back then and chastely kissed John's mouth. He pulled back and kissed John again, this time slightly open-mouthed. He pulled away and leaned in to kiss John a third time, this kiss being very open-mouthed. Sherlock lapped at John's lower lip and ran his tongue along John's upper gum line. He then worked John's lips with his own, alternating among pursing his own lips, applying light suction to John's and pressing small bits of tongue to them. Without breaking the kiss, Sherlock maneuvered himself in John's lap until he had one knee pressed between John's hip and the arm of the sofa and the other pressed to the back of the sofa, the length of Sherlock's thigh pressed to John's waist, the taller man's foot planted on the edge of the seat.
Sherlock placed one of his, previously listless, hands on John's jaw, his thumb running over John's slightly stubbly cheek. He wrapped the other around the back of John's neck, the short hairs there tickling his palm. Sherlock inwardly smiled as he felt the doctor's arms wrap around him. He smiled outwardly, into several feverish kisses, as he felt John rucking his shirt from his trousers, seeking the smooth skin of Sherlock's lower back. John's other hand curled at the consulting detective's shoulder.
Sherlock could now feel John starting to get hard beneath him. Sherlock felt his own body starting to respond. He began to sweat as a result of the heat in his body caused by increased blood flow due to a more rapidly beating heart. Sherlock noted that his own groin was tingling with the dilation of the blood vessels in that area, but when John rolled his hips up, his partially hardened cock grinding into Sherlock's still soft genitals, it was too much.
Before John's hips had even settled back onto the seat of the sofa Sherlock had jumped back from it, nearly sprawling backwards over the coffee table in his rush to get away and causing both cuppas to sloshing onto its surface.
"John, I—I thought—," Sherlock stuttered as he righted himself, his eyes wild, his shirt rumpled and half-tucked into his trousers, his mouth swollen and red. He stood straight and closed his eyes, taking a calming breath. John watched him with patient eyes, wanting Sherlock to finally be able to say it aloud. After several deep breaths, Sherlock spoke.
"I thought I was ready, but I'm not—"
"It's okay that you're not," John said softly from the sofa, remaining in the open, venerable position Sherlock had left him in. "It's okay if you're never ready. We don't ever have to have sex if you don't want to." Sherlock sat heavily on the coffee table behind him, tepid tea soaking into his trousers and pants, and dropped his head between his knees.
"I do want to. I want to experience that, something completely new, something I never thought I'd want, nee need, to try, with you. I want to learn all I can about you. Every aspect of you," Sherlock murmured to his feet. "I...have reservations only because I have no knowledge of this, other than the basic anatomy of it and a few...unfortunately made observations. I know there's more to it than that. I know it's supposed to mean more, especially to you," Sherlock said, looking up at John. "However, I haven't even had a proper erection since I was in my teens. Sex was never a worthy field of study. All I ever need to know about it is that it makes people incredibly jealous; jealous enough to commit horrifically bloody crimes."
"Among other things," John said as he stood. "I'll wait, Sherlock, as long as you need," he added, brushing the curls away from Sherlock's forehead. "And now, if you'll excuse me, I'm due for a shower."
"You haven't left the flat today and you showered this morning—oh."
"Oh," John said with a smile over his shoulder as he made his way up the stairs to his room.
