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The next few days went without any further probing but the fear lingered in John's mind. Sometimes he used to wonder when was the last time he felt relaxed since he met Sherlock. He couldn't remember. Sherlock was being his usual self or the self he had shown John to be and showed no agitation. John tried to relax when he was around. He wanted to cherish every moment he was lucky enough to spend with the man he loved. But there was always a clock ticking somewhere at the back of his mind.
"When will I be able to touch you?" Sherlock asked from the tub in which he was lying, grabbing hold of John's hand who was trying to walk away from the very tempting sight.
He turned around and saw a face which made it impossible for him to leave the bathroom. He sat down on the edge of the tub with a smile and trailed a finger over Sherlock's jaw.
"Soon."
Sherlock didn't seem happy.
"I can't wait."
"Neither can I."
"Yes you can. Look at you now!" He accused.
John lent down and kissed the man passionately holding his curly wet head in both his hands. But when Sherlock's hands trailed from his chest towards his lower abdomen he pulled away.
"I don't want you to get hurt." He whispered in the aroused man's ear.
"But-but…"
"Shhh." John said ghosting his lip over Sherlock's, making him shiver.
He took one wet hand of the man and placed it over his erected groin. Sherlock inhaled sharply.
"You see? How I feel." John said.
Within a moment John's hand was gripped in a bruising hold and was underwater. John trembled when he felt a raging hot hard on under the warm water and closed his eyes gasping.
It took him a moment to gain composure and find his voice again. He tried to remove his hand but the hand gripping him didn't move, instead another wet hand gripped his nape and lips crushed his lips.
John couldn't breathe and to his utter amazement he felt he didn't even want to.
After a while the mortal need won and they broke apart to catch their breath. Once lungs were full they looked at each other sheepishly, both flushed, both needy and with a blink of an eye they were giggling.
Both feeling, silly, happy, embarrassed.
After a while John lent forward and hugged the wet man wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face there.
"It can wait." He mumbled comfortably.
"I make you wait for everything." Sherlock said without any hint of remorse.
"I think you quiet enjoy that." John said with a smile in his voice.
"Do you hate me for that?"
"Oh yes! But then it gets drowned in my love for you." John said pulling away and looking at the man.
They both chuckled.
"You're a romantic." Sherlock said playfully pushing John away.
"Thank god for that! Because you are not."
"Oh really? Who sent you flowers?" Sherlock asked raising an eyebrow.
"That was flirting." John said. "Or trying to flirt."
"So? Flirting is romantic!" Sherlock demanded.
After a moment of contemplative silence John said.
"I want to take you on a date."
"Too romantic." Came the instant reply.
"Say yes."
"Do I have a choice?"
"Nope."
Sherlock sighed in mock exasperation.
"Have to live with it then."
They both started giggling again.