Sherlock stood in the kitchen, his dressing gown draped lazily over him as he peered through the eye of his microscope. But he wasn't particularly interested in the blood splatters that lay underneath the glass. John was going out for lunch today, which was incredibly inconvenient because that wasn't what the detective wanted him to do at all. In fact, it was completely the opposite. What Sherlock really wanted was for John to realise how silly it was of him to agree to go somewhere when the detective wanted him to stay at home, and make up for this grievous lapse of judgement by giving Sherlock all the affection and attention that he needed. But he had a feeling the doctor would not be happy is Sherlock put it to him like that, so he'd have to think of something else. Besides, he thought pensively, he could be playful. He could be sweet and persuasive when he wanted to me. He was good at it, and given the right atmosphere, it was one of the best feelings in the world. And John didn't even really want to go to lunch anyway, he was just being stupidly polite. So, on hearing the sound of the doctor's footsteps, Sherlock said conversationally:
"He'll be late and you'll hate it anyway so why on earth are you bothering to go?"
John carried on his search for his mobile phone under the piles of clutter on the kitchen table, and replied in a distracted tone.
"I have to go, I said I would..."
Sherlock took John's mobile from his pocket, and held aloft in one hand, smiling at the look of exasperation of the doctor's face as he did so.
"You don't HAVE to do anything, John. Just stay here...with me. "
The doctor glared across the table at his submissive and held out his hand. "You don't think that's what I'd much rather be doing? Could I have my phone, please?"
Sherlock looked at John with him head cocked to one side, silently reading the doctor to gauge his every thought and feeling. Placing his microscope to one side, the detective slid the phone delicately between his teeth and elegantly climbed onto the table. On all fours, he carefully crawled over a pile of papers, and dipped his head to place the phone in John's outstretched palm. Looking up at John through his lashes, Sherlock watched the doctor shake his head and swallow thickly.
"Sherlock, this isn't going to work..." John said warningly.
And yet his hand reached out to stroke back a stray curl, and his eyes wandered over the perfect skin that was now exposed to him, Sherlock's dressing gown having unravelled further. The detective didn't reply, but simply turned into John's hand and kissed his fingertips. John's thumb brushed against his lips and he kissed it before taking it in his mouth and gently biting down, his tongue lapping against the end. He said nothing as the doctor set his phone down on the table, and allowed his hand to lift up the silk that covered Sherlock's back and slide over the detective's shoulder blades, his skin warm and so familiar under his touch.
"I won't be long, a few hours at most..."
Sherlock nodded slowly. John withdrew his thumb from the detective's mouth and leaned forward, pressing his lips against Sherlock's. The doctor kissed him firmly, his hand roaming across his submissive's body, and settling on the back of his neck. Sherlock's back arched as he lifted his head to kiss John, his hand clutching the doctor's jacket to pull him closer. The detective hummed happily as they kissed, and found he wanted to make John stay even more than before. He always forgot how much he liked being kissed until the doctor's lips were on his and his eyes would close and his breathing would change so naturally that it took him several seconds to notice. He just didn't want that feeling to stop – was that really so selfish of him?
John pulled away suddenly, his expression a vague attempt at firmness.
"It's only lunch, for God's sake."
Sherlock nodded in agreement, but his eyes were still on John's wet and gleaming lips.
The doctor hated that Sherlock was agreeing with him. He hated that he was being so pleasant, it only made him want to stay more. The doctor watched as his submissive trailed a long finger over the jagged zip on his jacket. John stroked Sherlock's cheek thoughtfully.
"Does this mean you'll be especially happy to see me when I get back?"
Sherlock wrinkled his nose. "No. I'll be annoyed because you went and I don't see the point."
"Well, I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. But for now – I'm late." And with that, John firmly planted a kiss on Sherlock's cheek and left, determined not to look back or pause even for a second. The temptation to stay was almost painful. He resolved to make it up to the detective as soon as he got home – regardless of what might happen over lunch.
The door of 221B Baker Street was opened and shut with an almighty bang, which shook the staircase and resonated up to the flat where Sherlock was laying on the sofa, eyes closed. The sound did not surprise him, not did the footfall up the stairs which was much heavier than usual. The detective didn't even bother to open his eyes or raise his head to address the doctor, who he knew was stood angrily beneath the doorframe. It had been roughly two hours since John had left the flat, and in that time Sherlock had felt oddly resentful that John had left him alone to go and see Doug, of all people. Especially since Sherlock had made his opinions on the man so very clear.
"Did you have a nice time?" Sherlock said, still not opening his eyes.
"No I bloody didn't."
The detective shrugged unsympathetically. "I told you it was a stupid idea."
He meant to go on in this manner for quite some time, but instead found his rant halted by a barrage of possessive kisses covering his lips. Sherlock pulled away immediately, rolling off of the sofa and standing arms folded in front of the doctor.
"No."
John frowned, and took a step towards his submissive, who in turn immediately stepped backwards. The doctor was really not in the mood for this now, not after everything he'd just heard. He needed Sherlock in his arms and generally all over him if he was to even begin to feel better.
"What?"
Sherlock shrugged, and swayed gently from side to side, his dressing gown now loosely tied again just above his right hip.
"I don't want you to touch me. I'm angry that you wasted both our time going out when you knew you'd hate it, and now you're in a bad mood because whatever it was you two were discussing, and you're trying to use me to get over it. And I don't want you to."
John simply stared for a second. There was moment of pure tension where both men silently acknowledged that if John wanted to, he could tell Sherlock he couldn't give a toss what he wanted and that would be that. But the doctor wasn't like that. And there was a great deal of truth in what the detective had said. If he was honest, John thought Sherlock was being a bit petulant, but at the same time the detective had warned him that he would be angry if John left. So, the doctor simply nodded slowly.
"Okay. Sherlock, I'm sorry I've made you angry, and I understand that you don't want me to touch you or anything at the moment"
Strangely, it was actually very difficult to consciously not move towards his submissive. It was so much easier for words to sound as sincere as they were when they were whispered in Sherlock's ear, their hands clasped and bodies touching.
"...So," The doctor continued. "I'm going to have a shower, and do some work in my room, and when you're ready to accept my apology, you'll come and find me. Okay?"
Now it was Sherlock's turn to frown.
"Just because I don't want you to touch me, doesn't mean I don't want you to be near me"
Oh bloody hell, John thought exasperatedly.
"Then what do you want?"
In reply, Sherlock simply shrugged. He hadn't really thought this far into their conversation; all he really wanted was for John to feel bad that he'd done something he knew would annoy Sherlock. It was hard to accept that the doctor appeared unperturbed at the prospect of irritating his submissive.
The doctor closed his eyes and breathed deeply. The best and worst part of being a Dom was the control over every situation. The upside was he had the ability to get pretty much anything he needed out of a circumstance. The bad side was that when he opened his eyes, John could see him submissive looking at him, waiting for him to explain what was going to happen next. Sometimes it was difficult to always know exactly what to do. What did Sherlock want from him at the moment? And how could John give it to him?
"Alright." The doctor's voice pierced the silence that had settled in the air. "Come with me."
