aaaand I'm going to be wrapping this thing up in about a chapter or so

surprise


"John," Sherlock gasps, arching his back off the bed and tightening his grip on John's head.

John buries his face into Sherlock's bare collarbone, planting soft, intimate kisses onto the thin flesh.

"Oh god," Sherlock breathes, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. "John, please, we can't."

"None of your limbs are broken," John whispers against Sherlock's skin. "We most certainly can."

"Let me rephrase that," Sherlock says, hugging John's head tightly. "I won't."

"I know something that disagrees with you," John smirks, reaching his hand down to stroke the zipper of Sherlock's trousers, making Sherlock buck his hips up involuntarily.

"John!" Sherlock hisses. "We are not having sex under your family's roof! It's disrespectful!"

John growls and lightly bites down on Sherlock's shoulder. "And since when have you cared so much about respect?"

"Since I've decided I don't want your family to hate me," Sherlock answers, although he makes no effort to stop John from unbuttoning his trousers.

John slides up Sherlock's body and plants a small trail of kisses up Sherlock's neck as he goes. "And what are you going to do about it, push me away?"

Sherlock shudders in ecstasy, bites his lower lip, and shuts his eyes tightly closed. He doesn't have the will power to stop John and John knows this. This is teasing, and it's not fair.

"You need this," John whispers, gently kissing Sherlock's jaw. Then he presses his lips against Sherlock's. "You want this," he growls against Sherlock's lips. "You love this."

Sherlock only moans in response. His hands don't leave John's hair as John slides his palms down Sherlock's chest, fingers lingering over sensitive flesh. Then when John's fingers hook underneath the waistband of Sherlock's trousers, Sherlock lifts his hips to help John slide the trousers down his legs. "We shouldn't do this," Sherlock groans, although they both know the words are meaningless at this point.

Both clad in nothing but pants, John presses their heated bodies together, hips grinding against one another and Sherlock has to release one of his hands' grip on John's head to cover his own mouth to keep from crying out.

"It's too late to stop now," John whispers into Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock sobs out an agreement.

John takes Sherlock's hand and removes it from his mouth so that they can crash their lips together once again.

They move together in harmony like that, hips grinding against each other in a slow but heated frenzy and lips slowly sucking the life out of each other in the best way possible.

Just then, there's a knock on the door and both men freeze dead still.

Their eyes meet in a shared panic and John asks quietly "the door is locked, right?"

Sherlock nods quickly.

Then a voice calls from the other side of the door. A female voice. "Oy, boys, not that I mind or anything, but if you get any louder mum and dad are gonna hear you downstairs and I don't think they'd appreciate all the gay shagging so if you're gonna fuck, fuck quietly."

John growls and drops his head to Sherlock's shoulder. Hips still pressed together, he can feel both their erections slowly fading away. "Good job Harry," he snaps aloud. "You've killed the mood."

"That's what big sisters are for," Harry cries out in a singsong voice.

"Go away!"

"You'll thank me later when mum doesn't come knocking on the door asking 'what is it, who's screaming oh god Sherlock fuck me harder!'"

"Harry I swear!"

She laughs and then her voice fades away into the distance.

John heaves a great big sigh. "Well Sherlock, I guess you always get what you want in the end."

Sherlock gives John a small smile and hooks his arms around John's neck. "She's a real character isn't she?"

John snorts in disgust.

Sherlock lifts his head a bit to capture John's lips in one last kiss. "You go to sleep now, all right?"

John complies and lays down beside his lover, draping one arm across Sherlock's flat chest. "Only if you do too."

"Of course," Sherlock smiles, slowly drifting to sleep thinking about how nice it must be to have a normal family like John's.


The next morning the duo leaves for university again. Hopefully by now another big story will have swept through campus and all the hype revolving their relationship will have long disappeared.

There are hugs all around as they stand halfway out the door.

"And promise to call every once in a while," John's mother commands as if she'll never see her son again.

It surprises Sherlock when John's mother traps him in a hug as well, whispering into his ear "and you be good to my son or I'll haunt you to the grave and beyond."

And John's father gives Sherlock a firm handshake, although he remains silent throughout the ordeal.

"Oh," John's mother breathes out, touching her cheek with a hand. "My, Harry, he's picked a handsome one hasn't he?"

Harry smirks and crosses her arms over her chest. "If you can get past that shaggy mop on his head."

Sherlock decides to return the smirk and let the insult fly over his head. He does give Harry an acknowledging nod though. But then his face turns serious and he places a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. "And good luck," he says, "with your rehab. I know it must be difficult too." And with that one look, they exchange glances and Harry can already tell Sherlock truly does know-more than anyone else-because he's lived through it. Her little brother was dating an ex-junkie. Hell, her little brother was probably the reason Sherlock was an ex-junkie in the first place. Upon that realization, she covers her mouth with her hand a little in shock, and nods quickly at Sherlock. John. John Watson, brave and sturdy and brilliant. And perhaps she sees her little brother in a new light.