A/N: This was essentially going to be the final chapter but I really couldn't bring myself to end it permanently. So, I gave an ending that could be considered an end but would also allow me to post another chapter if I come up with something. I really like this story and I absolutely LOVE writing John. Turns out, I enjoy it more than writing any other character, who fucking knew? So, even though this is technically the "last chapter" I may still add more to this in the future. The not too distant future. Hope you enjoy it and leave me a review.
WARNINGS: LOTS OF SEX, LEMONS ABOUND, SWEARING, NIGHTMARE IMAGERY (VERY VERY TAME) MORE SEX AND DID I MENTION….SEX. Reader be warned….there is a lot of sex.
Chapter 6
Mucking About
John wakes up to the baby monitor going off and swallows slowly as he opens his eyes and his head lazily rolls over to see Sherlock laying next to him, splayed out on his front, a hand resting on John's stomach.
Grasping the man's hand he slowly raises it to his lips and gives it a gentle kiss before looking at it. Sherlock's long thin fingers are delicate yet masculine. He recalls feeling them slide up his body, touch him in ways that make him moan and squirm.
His body reacts, the morning wood that comes to him naturally twitching a little at the thought that if Rosie wasn't awake and waiting for him he would be more apt to simply roll over and top the man right now, nice and slow. It was his turn after all-
Sherlock moans and shifts, turning his head to look at him and John rolls over closer to him and brings a hand to the back of the man's head.
"I'm going to go take care of Rosie, you don't have to get up, Sherlock."
He sees the man next to him crack and eye, "Mmmm." Sherlock manages and he murmurs out, "Breakfast?"
"Bit peaky?" Just asks.
"Mmm, had a busy night." Sherlock says softly.
John snorts, "Mmm, a bit."
"Fighting the demons-" Sherlock muses before pushing himself up and leaning over, he gently kisses John's lips and the man responds in kind.
When Sherlock pulls away his blue eyes lock with John's, they stare a moment and then Sherlock asks softly, "Alright?"
John continues to looks at him, eyes running all over the face he has come to know over so many years, "Hm? Yeah, yes, I am...fine...just fine." and he lays back onto the bed and stares at the ceiling a moment, "Hard to believe this is where we are at now, this is what my life has come to."
Sherlock thinks on this a moment before saying softly, "What? Facing your traumatic past like the soldier you are, or shagging your flatmate and admitting you love a man?"
Slowly his head rolls to look at Sherlock, the man's eyes a sparkle of mischief and then John let's out a small chuckle, "You're a cock."
"I'm your cock." Sherlock says and John instantly shoves the man away, "Don't get smart, Sherlock."
"And it would seem you are now Mycroft." and John instantly sits up, grabs his pillow and whips it into the man's head, laughing sarcastically before he flops down on top of him and presses the pillow aside.
Sherlock chuckles softly before they look at each other again, John gazing down while Sherlock looks up, the innocents in those blue eyes make John shake his head as he smirks and leans down, kissing the man softly before Rosie's soft cooes suddenly blast out as she calls, "DA DA DA!"
John slowly raises his head and shuts his eyes, Sherlock's head plopping back down onto the pillow, "I will take care of the little monster." John says.
"Shall I make coffee?"
"Ta." John says and then he presses up and away, rolling from the bed to get dress, Sherlock remaining on the bed, spread eagle and content.
PAGE BREAK
The domestic bliss of the day is interrupted only a few hours after breakfast by a client who wants them to look into the disappearance of his neighbor. A woman by the name of Selena who has been joining him, a man named Sean, every morning for coffee for the last three months but who has suddenly packed and gone without a word.
Sherlock took the case though it seemed rather low in number, given Sherlock usually only took cases that were a six or more when in regards to disappearances.
At first, John had assumed it was because Sherlock was taking pity on the man, but it turned out, as it often does, the detective had a completely different motive.
Given everything that had transpired in the last four days, John had let Sherlock lead him through the case without much questioning. Taking his notes as he always did, following without thought, helping Sherlock work things out by being his sounding board and translating the man's often abrasive personality so as not to offend every person he came into contact with.
John was happy to note, that despite their sudden change in relationship it had zero effect on their ability to work together and solve the cases presented to them.
No one knew what had transpired between Sherlock and John and so they did not treat them any different. Honestly, it had been a relief because in the back of his mind, John had the faintest fear that somehow everyone would know.
He was not an ignorant person, and did not see his recent relationship with Sherlock as something that made him less of a human, less of a man. It was what it was, two people who cared about and loved each other taking their relationship to the next level.
Still, he found, he did not want to suffer through the jokes, jibes, questions or comments that would come if and when people found out. Not to mention, given the reasons that had propelled them forward into such a place as this, he did not want to deal with it, did not think he could deal with it. He also did not want it to affect his and Sherlock's ability to retain their normal lives, or at least, what they considered normal.
The media would have a field day, their friends hounded, the flat held hostage by cameras and reporters. Not because he thought so highly of himself and Sherlock, not because he thought what they were doing was so bloody interesting, but because they were technically public figures, always in the paper, known by just about everyone even if only from John's blog.
Something big, however normal it would be anyone else, would backfire and ruin their lives for several weeks if not months. The media and public would try to force their way in and dissect the duos existence under the microscopic lens of having nothing better to do.
Needless to say, they made it through the case in a day, John finally understanding Sherlock's interest in a seemingly boring case when he was informed that the Sean they had been working for, was the same Sean that had cut the name into the Jane Doe at the morgue.
While Sean had not been responsible for the death of the woman John had been practicing his deductions on, he was responsible for the disappearance of Selena. He had carted her off to a cottage in the countryside when she had refused his advances, hoping Sherlock and John would follow the clues he had laid that would lead them to a false suspect, a scapegoat as it were.
They had gotten to Selena in time, her only injury being a scar of the man's name on her left shoulder. She would forever be marked, but she was alive and grateful for their interventions. Apparently Sean had grown tired of the rejections, unable to find a woman who shared in his sadistic sexual preferences and had decided to simply abduct Selena and try to change her mind.
"Brainwashing is a very effective tool, if someone wants to win the heart of the perfect lover. No doubt he planned to spend the next few years trying to get her to comply and conform to his wants. He had no intention of killing her, but if Selena was as stubborn and strong willed as I suspect she is, death would have been inevitable. She was the first, she wouldn't have been his last."
John looks to Sherlock who sits next to him in the taxi, they were on their way home after having left the Yard.
"You think he would have tried again?"
"No doubt. I've never gotten to apprehend a fledgling serial killer before. I do not doubt though, that if he was unable to convert Selena, he would have removed her and tried again. He wanted the perfect partner, unfortunately one cannot always find the person to whom they most perfectly connect. It was eating away at him, the loneliness, the rejection, the inability to find someone to share his own brand of pleasure with. Resentment, bitterness, anger...it would have driven him further and further...pushed him to keep trying."
"An obsession." John agrees and Sherlock nods before saying, "It doesn't always start in childhood, sometimes it can come later….but eventually, it does come to those who cannot control themselves."
John looks down when Sherlock subtly takes his hand, the man's eyes staring out the window and John can do nothing but lean back and digest what his friend has just said. He wonders how much of that was based on what Sherlock had been so worried on John becoming.
His threats to take Rosie away, to make John see what he was turning into. Though John knows he would never have become an abusive father, never actively hurt Rosie, he wonders if Sherlock thought the anger John was fighting could have pushed him to something else.
John is only glad they would never find out.
PAGE BREAK
When they walk into the building John notices Mrs. Hudson's lights are off, a sign the woman has gone out. He thinks a moment as he follows Sherlock up the stairs and when they enter the flat he pulls out his phone.
Sherlock turns to look at him and speak but stops as John holds up a finger, "Molly? Yeah, hello. How's Rosamund doing? Excellent, look, uhm, do you have any other plans tonight? Have work early tomorrow? Well, I was hoping, any chance you could keep her over night-" and John's eyes flick up to Sherlock, sees the way his gaze has intensified and he stares at him, completely focused and alert.
"No, no, nothing like that, it's all fine, Sherlock and I just have a few more cases to go through and if we- yeah, right, Mrs. H seems to be out just this minutes and I don't want to pick her up only to have to drop her off again….Greg said he may have something for Sherlock to look at too, maybe tomorrow, yeah...that would be amazing. Lunch on me as a thank you and I promise we will all get together soon for a night out, yeah? Thanks, yup, you too."
John looks up from his phone and stares at Sherlock, tossing the mobile onto his chair before his tucks his hands into his pockets, "Seems we have some free time." he says, his face remaining neutral, no smirks or hints of any kind to show his hand.
"Dr. Watson, I do believe you just lied to Miss. Hooper."
"Did I?" John asks coyly.
There are no cases-"
"Have you looked?" John asks as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, giving the man the smallest hint of a playful smirk.
Sherlock cocks his head to the side, his eyes staring the man down as he tries to decipher what John's motives are. In his turn, John gives the man the bare minimum and then watches as Sherlock slowly crosses to John's laptop and lifts the lid, his clever eyes remaining on the man before him up until he glances at the screen.
His eyes run back and forth quickly, scanning John's inbox before looking back and gently pressing down the screen to close it.
"Not a thing." he says softly, his eyes once again focusing on John intently.
"Well, my mistake, hm? Seems we have some time to kill-" and he looks around the flat casually, his lips pursing and eyes glancing to the ceiling a moment before he slowly starts to walk backwards towards Sherlock's room.
He sees Sherlock take a step towards him, a small smirk playing at John's lips as he keeps taking slow thoughtful steps backwards, the shadows washing over him as moves past the kitchen doorway and down the hall.
Sherlock starts walking, his feet quick and silent until he is right in front of John and undoing the buttons of his Belstaff, John chuckling as he says, "Bloody idiot." Sherlock grunts before kicking the door to his room shut with a foot.
Page break
This round, unlike before, they truly take their time. There is ampule snogging, feverish four-play and finally, after working each other over there is the final and ultimately sought goal.
This time though, it's John's turn, and the man realizes he doesn't know how prepared he really is to proceed.
Sherlock is beneath him, hands resting fisted at his sides while John presses the man's legs apart with his hips. He settles on top, spends ample time kissing, nipping and licking at the man's lips, throat and jaw before he whispers, "Ready?"
For once, Sherlock has nothing to say and he closes his eyes and leans back, his body relaxing instantly and John envies the man's ability to control himself so easily.
John settles down, feels the head of his length resting against Sherlock's arse, and he gently runs a hand up the back of the man's thigh, pressing it further away before he takes up Sherlock's lips and starts to push.
Having always been the one to give instead of receive, not a hard thing considering he only had female partners prior to this, he was more than knowledgeable on how to enter slow and gentle.
He knew to let his partner's body have time to accommodate and to listen to the noises they made in hopes of better servicing them.
What he wasn't prepared for was the difference in resistance, the tightness that greeted him, though as a doctor he should have been. He knows the difference in the muscles of the anus verses the muscles of the vagina and yet, it still shocks him.
He moans loudly into the man's mouth, feels Sherlock's hands jump to his hips and halt his progress. Something he is happy to oblige given he feels he might tip over any second. Sherlock's muscles are clamping onto him, holding him from going any further and he hears Sherlock hiss and his body tense.
"Mmm, not so easy to relax, is it?" John teases and he looks at Sherlock's face to see eyes that are a mixture of arousal and spite.
"Now is not the time to mock me, a little slower, if you would, Doctor." and John knows it was in poor taste but he couldn't help himself, he so rarely gets to one up the man beneath him.
"You're right, sorry, bit not good." still he feels the instinct to push his way in, to bury himself deep, to not accommodate the man below him as he had with so many others. He wonders if Sherlock had fought this hard to keep from hurting him.
"Alright, nice and slow, ready?" and Sherlock nods, his hands falling away from John's hips and the good doctor continues, pressing in slow, feeling the tight ring giving a little more and inch by inch he works his way in.
It is much the same as the first time Sherlock entered him, though where it took nearly thirty minutes to keep John calm and relaxed, to keep him from having an episode at the intrusion to his body, John makes it in a quarter of that time.
He finds himself rooted, all the way in, pressed up flesh to flesh and he shutters and lays his head down next to Sherlock's, his forehead on the pillow while Sherlock's panting breaths caress his ear.
"Oh, this is good, yeah, definitely good, no more topping for you." John says breathily as he gives an experimental pull out and slowly push back in.
He feels Sherlock arch a little below him, glances down to see the man's hands fisting the bed sheets awfully tight.
"Eh-is that an order, Captain?" Sherlock asks, his voice trembling and breathy as he grunts and spreads his bent legs a little further apart.
"Mmm, no, but I don't think I will be as ready to lay on my back now that I've felt you like this-"
"A challenge then." Sherlock states and his hands jerk to John's hips again, stilling him after another small thrust.
"Let go, Sherlock, I promise I won't hurt you. We will take it slow, but we have to...I have to...start moving or you won't adjust."
Sherlock's hands... John can feel them shaking but after several seconds of intense silence the man reluctantly releases his death grip and John hips. John's arms come up, elbows digging into the bad as he elevates himself just enough to pull out much further and then push back in.
Sherlock arches off the bed again, his hands once again jerking up to stop John's hips.
"It hurts that bad?" John asks and Sherlock's head shakes slowly, "No, feels too good, I am afraid I will go to quickly, every thrust nearly spills me over, I want to enjoy...feeling you…"
A thought pops into John's head and he leans down near Sherlock's ear, "Know what?" John asks.
"Hmm?"
"I think, you might have an overly sensitive prostate…"
Sherlock's head rolls to look at him and their eyes lock, "What? What does that matter?" he asks in confusion, his brow furrowing as his euphoric face stares up at John with worry.
"It means, you might be one of the few men who can enjoy multiple orgasms. Hold on, I want to try something, just a tick-"
"John?" Sherlock suddenly asks clearly, his haze seemingly leaving him a moment but John simply pulls out as far as he can, only the head of his cock remaining inside before he slams in, Sherlock shouting a profanity as his back arches full off the bed and John feels the man's muscles clench around his length, he himself cursing at the death like grip.
He looks to see Sherlock has cum, his seed spurting out of the tip of his length before he falls back onto the bed.
John waits, Sherlock panting heavily before he looks up at him, "Why did you-" but John just leans down and kisses him, "Just wait a few minutes, I am testing a theory."
They sit there, joined together for several minutes, John giving gentle kisses to the man's chest, neck and jaw before Sherlock moans and says much the same as a child would, "What are we waiting for, I don't understand. John-"
John suddenly pulls out and shoves back in, Sherlock jerking and swearing again, "That still feel like you might fall over?" John asks with a smirk.
Sherlock quickly nods and John let's out a high pitched laugh before shaking his head in disbelief, "Congratulations, Sherlock. You just became the luckiest man in London."
"What? Why?" Sherlock asks in true curiosity.
John leans in and whispers next to his ear, "Because you are about to cum, a lot."
Pulling back, John looks at his friend, those large blue eyes growing a tad worried but John just smirks wickedly down at him before pulling back, taking up the man's hips and starting to thrust quick and deep, the following hour is nothing but William Sherlock Scott Holmes begging John Hamish Watson to have mercy, of which the man gives none.
Page Break
John wakes up to light and a silhouette above him, jerking suddenly and yelling he grabs the bedside clock and launches it. Sherlock rising up on his knees at John's sudden yell and twisting around only to see the same person John does and jerks back in shock, falling off the side and onto the floor.
Sitting on the bed, legs spread and arms propping him up John heaves and stares, mouth open and heart pounding as he checks to make sure the sheet is still covering him.
Sherlock pops his head up next to the bed but goes no further as he is not dress and glares with venom at the man before them.
Mycroft is hunched over, having done so quickly to avoid the projectile clock that now lay shattered on the floor behind him.
"What the hell are you doing here!" Sherlock yells but all John can do is stare, like a deer in headlights his brain can't process the fact that he and Sherlock have just been caught red handed, by Sherlock's older brother no less, and he can't fathom at all how he feels about it.
"I came to check in, you neglected to pick up young Rosemund and I was endeavoring to find out why. You have no cases of interest and Greg has nothing on, I thought I might help." Mycroft said, standing up and gently pressing the wrinkles from his suit.
"More like spy." Sherlock mumbles before he grabs the comforter off the bed and wraps it around himself, standing and beelining for his brother on the other side of the bed.
"Have you forgotten yourself or is it no longer common courtesy to call or knock prior to entering someone's room, least of all their home!" and Mycroft sighs and rolls his eyes before turning to meet the angry gaze of his little brother.
"No need to be so angry, Sherlock, I had no intention of ruining your morning festivities. Nor did I have the slightest clue as to what you and your...blogger….where up to."
John turns his head to look at Mycroft, continues to stare though his eyes narrow a little, thoughts and words still escaping him.
"I will just wait in the kitchen, shall I?"
"How about, no. Get out!" Sherlock barks and Mycroft simply turns away and heads for the door, "No, I think it best I stay, it seems we have much to discuss. Such as changing your safety priority to level Red. Do be a good boy and help Doctor Watson into his pants, I believe he has forgotten how to stand."
Sherlock's teeth clench as he slams the door behind his brother and then leans against it a moment, eyes closed as he rolls his lips together and reluctantly looks over to John, not at all sure how the man will react to suddenly having their relationship one step closer to the public's eye.
John continues to stare, trying to digest the fact that he was just caught in the bed of another man, by Mycroft Holmes and ever so slowly he peers over to look at his friend, eyes still wide, mouth open and Sherlock says softly, " Sorry." the meaning behind the apology seemingly both on behalf of his brother's intrusive nature and for the proverbial cat being let out of the bag.
Sherlock knows they had yet to reach a point where they would discuss whether or not to go public with this. Sherlock did not care either way as long as he could have John in his life. He would take it to his grave or announce it on the highest building in London. Whatever John wanted, he would do.
However, now that Mycroft knew the man would feel the need to tell those he deemed it necessary to tell. Sherlock's parents, Lestrade, his minions….all would need an update so they could more carefully "monitor" the situation.
Intrusive, inhumane, rude, vindictive, sniveling, compulsive, overbearing, controlling, offensive piece of-
"Let's get this over with-" John sighs out as he brings a hand to rub at his brow, his jaw clenching and Sherlock slowly leans up from the door and walks over to him, kneeling down on the ground, his blanket still secured around him.
"I can make him leave. We don't have to tell him anything, you don't have to bare his scrutiny-"
"No, Sherlock. Of all the people who could find out, I should have expected it would have been Mycroft. Just glad it wasn't Greg who walked in."
Sherlock gives a soft nod and John swallows as he says softly, "Hey-" Sherlock looking up at him, "I'm not….not ashamed, you know that right? Of this?" and he motions between them and then says, "I just, wanted to have some time for us to...you know." and Sherlock nods again.
"Perhaps, if we are truthful, we can keep this from getting out of hand, put the fire out before it can spread and do damage."
"I didn't want people to know, because I don't want to deal with the chaos that would follow, you know it would. The famous hat detective and his blogger, in bed together, it's right out of a gossip column. You remember all the things they have said before, you remember how swiftly they tore you apart. I can handle the scrutiny, the names and lies and anything else….but Rosie...Molly, Mrs. Hudson, they didn't sign up for that."
Sherlock nods and says softly, "I know. I am willing to do whatever you want. Tell no one or tell everyone, I don't care. I just want you to-"
"I know. Now come on, before Mycroft tells the entire British Government you're shagging your blogger."
PAGE BREAK
The three sit in pensive silence, John and Sherlock in their prospective seats, Mycroft sitting on a kitchen chair, hands folded over his umbrella as his eyes look between them.
"Well?" Mycroft asks suddenly.
"Well what?" Sherlock snaps, his fingers drumming quickly on the arms of his chair, John holding a coffee mug to his lips though he has yet to take a drink.
"I would appreciate an update on the current situation." Mycroft says with a cock of his brow.
"You need no such thing, you just want to pry and mock, as is your want to do when you are bored or I have done something you were unable to predict." and Sherlock gives a forced smirk, dripping in contempt and Mycroft rolls his eyes.
"As ever dear brother, may I remind, you are not that interesting. I simply wish to know where you two stand with one another. Do I need to be concerned with this new situation or can you two handle it and work it out amongst yourselves."
John cocks his head to look at the man before he clears his throat, sets his coffee aside and leans forward, "Excuse me, what?" and he snaps out the 'what' as if Mycroft has just insulted him with a slur.
Mycroft looks to John and gives that reptilian smile, "Ah, so he speaks. Tell me Doctor Watson, what is your intention towards my brother? Do I need to be concerned about an abrupt departure?"
John feels his eyes narrow, his hands fisting on the arms of his chair as his angry smirk, the one that comes when the anger builds inside and he isn't sure just how he wants to let it out.
"Interesting. If I didn't know any better I would say you're worried."
"Worried?" Mycroft parrots in confusion.
"Yeah, bout Sherlock. About what you walked in on and whether or not it was a onesie or something else entirely. Not sure how to handle the situation, your brother being in a serious relationship."
"Preposterous." Mycroft says as he glares at the man.
John leans back in his chair, crosses his arms and brings a finger to his lips in thought, "No, that's it isn't it-" and he looks to Sherlock who is glancing at him and smiling as if John has found the world's greatest joke.
"Scares you a bit, him relying on someone else, him forming such a strong bond with someone else. Well, no need to worry. I'm not going anywhere. You, Sherlock? You going anywhere?"
"No." Sherlock says with a smirk before his blue eyes look to his brother and harden, "See, all done, taken care of, John and I are madly in love and won't be counting last night among those that we regret. Now, if you would be so kind as to extricate yourself from our home, we have things to do, none of which involve you, see yourself to the door, brother dear." Sherlock says happily as he stands and straightens his suit.
Mycroft sighs and stands, though he does looks to Sherlock and John sees the barest hint of concern in the corner of his eyes, "I will be raising your level of protection to code red. I will also place Miss. Hooper, Mrs. Hudson, baby Rosamund and the Detective Inspector there as well. I will have to inform our parents-"
"Nope." Sherlock says, popping the P and moving to the door to pull it open, "They need to know, Sherlock. They deserve to know." Mycroft argues though John doesn't understand why they would deserve to know such a thing as their son's sex life.
"Sorry, Mycroft. Unless John decides to take things public, we shall remain under the radar, preferably forever, as it would make romancing possible female suspects impossible if they thought me gay."
"But, you are-"
"Just a label, brother. You shouldn't think to hard on such things given your own preferences or lack thereof. Besides, if you tell anyone about our relationship, I will have to return the favour."
Mycroft looks accosted and his lips thin as he says, "I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you? I should like to have a conversation with Miss. Hooper, see what she thinks of you saying such a thing. It was the muffins wasn't it, they are delicious though not conducive to that waistline you try so hard to maintain."
Sherlock takes a step back and holds the door open wider, his brother staring at him in utter horror before he swallows, "Very well, not a soul, but you must do me the same kindness."
"Of course." Sherlock says softly with a small bow of his head before his arm swings down in front of him and motions for his brother to leave.
Mycroft does so and Sherlock slams the door behind him, tucking his hands into his pockets as his eyes glance up at John and he bites his bottom lip.
John looks shocked, before he says, "No, not Molly….Molly Hooper?"
"Molly Hooper." Sherlock says with an admiring smirk at the thought before he crosses back to his chair and plops down with a rather satisfied smile on his face.
"What? When? How the hell-"
"I don't know. But I wasn't lying, if he wants to maintain his figure he should not eat that woman's pastries."
John lets out a shocked blast of a laugh before he motions to the door, "Your brother...and Molly Hooper….how did you even-"
"Last time we were in the lab I could smell his cologne. I thought perhaps he paid her a visit to make sure she was recovering from the events of Sherrinford, but-"
"But?" John asks, nearly on the edge of his seat.
"Well, the British Government doesn't oft smell so strongly like strawberries and coconut." and Sherlock's smile is contagious, John bursting out into laughter and they laughed like young school boys at the lunacy of it.
John had to clear his throat multiple times before he managed to calm himself and asked, "So, you think it's serious? Or is he just trying it out?"
"Not sure, but the look of utter fear in his eyes the mention of me telling our parents will scare him into silence, no worries there."
John nods before he says softly, "Thanks. For that." and he motions with his head to the door behind him, "Wasn't near as bad as I thought it would be." and Sherlock looks at him with that kind face he often gets when John shares something he normally wouldn't.
"Like I said, not ashamed, but I'd like some time to...you know."
"Of course." Sherlock says with a nod.
"Can I ask, what did you mean by that….the comment about labels...about Mycroft's preferences?"
Sherlock seemed to think a moment, deciding if he should share before he finally says softly, "It's an interesting thing, my brother and I, people always want to label everything. Gay, straight, bisexual, man, woman, child...in retrospect it makes sense. With labels comes understanding, you know what something is so you can categorize it, sum it up, understand what it is and what its function is by one simple word."
"Yeah, and?" John asks, waiting to see where Sherlock could possibly be going with this.
"What you need to be asking is, does it truly matter? Gay, Straight? Man? Woman? In the grand scheme of things, I suppose for the sake of clarity and organization, yes. But, the essence of a person, being put down to one word? No, it won't do."
John thinks about it a moment and then says, "So, you're saying-"
"My interest in you, just like Mycroft's sudden interest in Molly, it has nothing to do with whether we are straight or gay, whether we are man or woman. It just is. I could have just as easily fallen in love with a woman, or a person who was transgender or even a dog."
"Thaaat's a stretch." John winces and Sherlock rolls his eyes, "It's not about the labels John, it's about who we like, about who we connect with the best and who we love."
"That's it then, isn't it, you have no preferences. You just….love who you love." and John finds it the most absurdly simple and yet seemingly most intricate way to look at things.
"As do you." Sherlock says and John looks up in surprise, "You're not gay, John, at least not by the labels with which are used in normal society. Seven years of chasing after women, marrying Mary, having a child with her, I suppose at this moment you would either be labeled bi-curious or simply confused. But, that just leads us back to the question of whether or not you love me."
John stares a moment and then says softly, "I do, yeah, I really do." he muses as he thinks about it, still shell shocked from admitting it so openly though he has done it several times before.
"Then there you have it, just like myself and like Mycroft-"
"You love who you love." John finishes with a knowing smirk and Sherlock gives one single nod before he takes up his coffee and sips on it casually. John is left to silently admire the wisdom and logic that makes up his friend, Sherlock Holmes.
PAGE BREAK
The day had progressed rather uneventfully and around noon John had traveled out to pick up Rosie. Upon his return Sherlock was setting the table for dinner though John noted the man had not wiped down the table or used clean plates.
He had set Rosie in the front room so that he could switch it all out, putting the dirty plates back in the sink with a smirk before pulling out the clean few from the cabinet. Minutes later Sherlock walked in with take away and set it out so they could grab their dinner as they wanted it.
They fed Rosie, Sherlock gave her a wash and then as they had done so many times before, John put her to bed while Sherlock played his violin.
When she was out John and Sherlock descended the stairs with baby monitor in hand and headed straight for Sherlock's room.
Page Break
"John, John, no more, please-" Sherlock pants heavily and John kisses the man's back as he moans, "Oh yes, one more, just one more, love." and John's hands tighten on Sherlock's hips as he pulls out and rams back in, his hips not stopping as he reaches for his own end.
He feels Sherlock's body underneath him shaking horribly, the man already having cum several times, much to John's satisfaction. The man is on his hands and knees as John has taken a position behind and he doesn't stop thrusting, dropping down to press his chest to Sherlock's back, both are covered in sweat and red in the face.
Sherlock cums abruptly, unable to help himself giving the sensitivity of his prostate and John moans again when he feels the man's muscles pull tight around his length.
"God yes, one more S-Sherlock, one more for me-"
"This is intolerable!" Sherlock barks with anger and John chuckles, "No, no it's not, one more just ooooone more, I'm almost there, almost there just one more, Sherlock, for me-" and John picks up his pace, pressing harder, moaning as he feels his end coming hard.
As he gets closer Sherlock's arms slip out from under him and he faceplants into the pillow, hands gripping on either side of his head painfully hard as his body goes one more time, the man sounding like he is nearly sobbing and John spills over, cuming hard as a bright light explodes in front of his eyes and he grunts, groans and growls, nails digging into the man's hips and dragging down and up the front of Sherlock's thighs.
Sherlock collapses seconds later, chest heaving and his body utterly useless, as John slowly withdrawals and maneuvers to lay on his back next to his partner.
"That. Was. Fantastic." John pants, "Yeah, absolutely bloody amazing."
Sherlock mumbles something incoherent and John glances over, "What?"
The man barely manages to raise his head before he says, "A recurring theme of yours, rather bad habit too."
"What is?"
"Telling me how amazing I am, thought we were beyond you telling me things I already know."
John chuckled and sighed, "Yeah, I suppose I do that."
"You do." Sherlock said before he rolled onto his back and splayed his arms and legs.
John glanced over and then did a double take, "Jesus, that...is a mess." he winces as he looks away.
"Well you made me orgasm five times, I ejeculated several of those times, couldn't be helped."
Thinking a moment John cleared his throat, "Have to do something about that."
"Mmmm, perhaps a cup."
John lazily rolled his head to look at his friend for a moment and then burst out into laughter, Sherlock's deep chuckle following, "Fucked up, mate, definitely a bit not good."
PAGE BREAK
John's running in place, surrounded by darkness, no signs of life and he thinks he will choke on the black inky nothing surrounding him.
A blinding light shines on him, he is a beacon in the night and he keeps running, trying to escape but from what he doesn't know.
He keeps loosing his breath, his heart keeps pounding and he can't stop running. Suddenly a voice echoes, "Don't you run from me! Get back here!" the voice screams and John feels tears burn at his eyes, a strangled sob erupting from his throat as he tries move faster.
In the distance, a light finally appears, looking like nothing but a pin hole in the dark but he runs for it, reaching out a hand and yelling, trying to acknowledge that tiny glint of hope so far away in the darkness.
"DON'T RUN FROM ME! COME BACK HERE! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!"
"No, no, nonononono!" John whines out as he sees the soft glow of red light from behind, the color of blood, it slowly leaks into the foreground, only the blackness around that pinhole remaining.
Heat suddenly licks at his back, burns the hair on his neck, melts the heels of his shoes.
"Fuck, no, no!" and he hears that acidi voice whispering, "Gently take the ship to shore-"
That wicked, evil voice that tries to be so soothing but just makes him want to cringe.
"Tell the sailors she's no more." and the laugh that follows makes him scream.
"And when the white bird starts to sing-"
John yells desperetly, "Go the fuck away! Get out of my head!"
"You know you've reached your home, come home to me John, come home to me-"
"GO FUCK YOURSELF!" and he swings his arms, pumps his feet and aims for that pin hole, which seems to grow bigger the harder he runs.
"COME BACK!" the voice screams, "Come home to me!"
Finally, the small pin hole starts to grow and John sees a silhouette there, the red light trying to invade but the darkness holds firm, the white light pressing it out and keeping the angry red leakage away.
His eyes focus on it, his heart longs for it and he knows who the man is in the distance, "Christ! Sherlock!" and his voice echoes around him, pounding his ears as it ricochets of invisible walls.
"John!" he hears that voice, the voice he knows, the one he trusts, the one he wants to hear until the end of his days, because within that voice he has found salvation so many times, found forgiveness and understanding, found friendship and family.
"Sherlock!" he yells again, another bombardment ringing in his ears and he reaches his hand out again, seeing Sherlock reach out as well.
"No! Not him! The demon before you, the demon of lies! He cannot have you! He cannot take you away from me!" the monster behind him hisses but John ignores the screams, ignores the monster and with his last bit of strength gives a might jump.
"Sherlock!"
"John! Wake up, John!" and he does, rolling away and ripping clean of the hands that hold him, jerking out of the bed and stumbling in the dark.
He loses his balance, disorientation taking him to the ground where he then scrambles to get up, his hands clawing at the floor and feet kicking as he moves wildly before his shoulder collides with a wall and he is sent back to the ground.
The silence is stunning, only his heavy breathing filling the air before he lets out a cough and then a sob follows.
"A fucking dream, not another dream, I can't do this again!" and his fist slams the floor and he shoves himself up, getting to his feet but stumbling again as he tries to orient himself in the dark.
He is caught by a pair of hands and instantly jerks back, "John-"
"Oh god, god S-Sherlock….I'm sorry, I'm s-so sorry." John wheezes as he sucks in air and his hands reach out in front of him.
He feels the bare chest of his companion who he instantly clings to. John's legs give, feeling like nothing more than glue but Sherlock guides him down easy and they sit on the floor in the dark.
"Easy now, I'm right here. It was just a dream, only a nightmare, I'm right here." Sherlock soothes, holding the man to him even as John sags and he lets out another sob, "I can't do this. It was supposed to be over, this was supposed to be done, supposed to be…."
Sherlock shushes him, brings a hand to his face and his cheek to the top of John's head, "It's going to take time, Rome wasn't built in a day, and trauma cannot be erased overnight. We have all the time in the world, we will manage this, fix it, I will find a way to fix it."
"This can't be fixed, I can't be fixed, this is me now, a sniveling coward, a traumatized victim of some sick pedophile. I don't want to be this, I don't want to be his-"
"You are nothing but the sum of your parts and all your parts, are good and true, courageous and loyal, brave and kind….you will make it through this, I will make sure you do." Sherlock says with certainty.
"You can't be my blanket, Sherlock. I can't slow you down, I can't expect you to put your life on hold every time I have a break down. You shouldn't have to live with my baggage. Shouldn't have to."
"Nonsense, I finally have you all to myself, you really think I would let go of my best friend?"
Suddenly a noise is heard from the baby monitor and Rosie begins to call for John, both men sighing and chuckling softly, "Alright, not all to myself, but I don't mind sharing." Sherlock amends with amusement.
"God, what did I ever do to deserve you." John whispers.
Sherlock smiles into his hair before saying softly, "Everything."
PAGE BREAK
The early morning is tense. Sherlock goes up to see to Rosie, the girl having been woken by the sounds of John and his stumbling. The blonde man is in the shower, gazing at the water, watching as the brown color slowly circles the drain.
He looks behind him, half expecting to see Mary or even his younger self but his subconscious remains silent.
Finally on my own then, he muses though for the first time he wishes he wasn't, he could really use the advice of himself right now, surely a paradox to think such a thing.
The door to the bathroom opens and Sherlock pops his head in, "I got Rosie back to sleep." and John nods as he looks to his friend, mouth open and ready to thank him only to stop when he sees his friends face.
"What the hell, Sherlock, your eye-" the bruise runs from the bridge of his nose on the right side down under his eye and circles around the outer edge and up over the top, stopping just above the center.
"Don't worry-"
"No, do not make excuses for me, this is unacceptable. You shouldn't….I didn't mean to-"
"I know." Sherlock says softly and John turns away and brings his hands to his face, "Oh my god." he whispers.
John doesn't notice the shuffling and isn't aware Sherlock has joined him until he feels two hands come to rest on either of his shoulders, John trying to pull away from the touch but Sherlock gently pulling him back.
"I know you are angry, but the last thing you should do right now is pull away from me. You need to talk about this, however you want, whenever you are ready, but you need to talk about it."
"You never talk about anything." John muses sarcastically though he doesn't mean it in the slightest.
"Ah, but I do not tend to punch my lovers in the face while I am having a nightmare."
"No, you just start a house fire." John pouts.
"Only one, and only because you were dating the teacher and you didn't have time for me, I wanted to talk about it though."
"But you wouldn't have."
Sherlock remains silent a moment before he says, "No, probably not, but I wouldn't have pulled away from you. I would have found a way to show you what I couldn't say-"
"Like starting a house fire." John says with annoyance and Sherlock sighs, "Yes, granted there are more practical ways, but it got your attention. You remained at home the next two weeks didn't you?"
John turns to look at him, the water hitting his back and trickling down his body to the drain, "How many of my girlfriends did you actively try to chase off through bids for attention?"
"Honestly?"
John nods and Sherlock looks guilty, extremely guilty, "All of them."
Smirking, the shorter man reaches up and threads his fingers into his companions hair, pulling his face down closer as he says adamantly, "Just for that, I am topping for the next week."
Sherlock looks terrified and exhales, "You must be joking."
"No, I have found out way too much about how often you had control over me and my life this past week, I want a little revenge. A weeks worth of topping, that's about twenty-eight orgasms for you, nearly makes up for all the ones I missed out on when you systematically chased all of my lady friends away."
"I couldn't possibly preform-"
"You're going to." John says and he leans in and gently kisses Sherlock's mouth before pulling away and bringing their foreheads together, "Thanks, mate." he murmurs.
Sherlock just nods, those blue eyes staring into his and John smiles, "We are going to need a lot of cups." to which Sherlock's smile suddenly turns into a frown and he lets out a groan.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed that, sorry the editing was so poor but I was trying to get this up quickly as you have been waiting for quite awhile. Read and Review.