Chapter Eleven
"First Time for Everything"
John's grip on his hand was strong, for all that he was shaking. Fingers hot, pulse racing, his eyes dilated, ragged breathing pattern... Sherlock catalogued the symptoms in front of his eyes, hardly believing his own senses. JOHN. Am I wrong? I don't want to be wrong... Sherlock reached for John's other wrist, his long fingers finding the pulse leaping at the joint. I'm not wrong!
"I need you too... save me again." John's words reverberated through Sherlock's whole being, lighting a fire in their wake. They were so close Sherlock felt the heat from the other man's body down his entire length. Sherlock felt that urge to touch more of his doctor swell up, overcome him like it had the morning John came to see him. The difference was, he was touching him already, and John wasn't mad at him... John was acting like he wanted nothing more than to be closer too...
Sherlock was trapped, at a loss on how to proceed. He had zero experience, no basis for comparison on what action to take to get what he wanted. He didn't even know what he wanted... all he knew is he wanted to be closer.
"John... tell me what to do." Sherlock whispered, voice deep and full of longing.
"What do you want?" John asked back, whispering too. He shifted slightly, until he was pressing lightly along Sherlock's front, chest to hips. Sherlock felt the immediate change in his body, static electricity charging across every inch of his skin. Felt heat, too. So much heat, especially where their bodies met.
"More... I want more. Show me what to do, John." Theirs faces were closer now, foreheads brushing.
"I can help you, let me show you..." His voice whispering against Sherlock's mouth; tipping his face up, John said, "Like this Sherlock..." John moved carefully, cautiously, and oh so ever gently placed his lips to Sherlock's.
He froze. Heart stopped, muscles seizing tight. All his considerable focus narrowed down to the sensation of his doctor's lips on his own. Strong and surprisingly soft, and so very hot. So hot... his eyes drifted shut, and he was dimly aware he made a tiny sound deep in his throat. John pressed closer, encouraged. John moved his lips, increasing the pressure of his kiss. Sherlock's lips opened of their own accord, and he groaned in pleasant surprise when John's tongue touched his.
John knew instantly that Sherlock was inexperienced, he had no notion how to kiss him back. It made him extra aware that he shouldn't try to push any faster, to be careful. Sherlock let John lead, trusting completely that John would show him what to do. John pressed himself fully against Sherlock, tilted his head to the side, and kissed Sherlock as deeply as he dared, giving the man every shred of skill he could muster. John swept his tongue across Sherlock's, touching and tasting him. Sherlock shivered, and angled his head to let John in deeper. John moaned, loving his detective's response, the sound escaping into Sherlock's mouth.
Curious, Sherlock tried to respond. His tongue darted out, and tangled with John's. This brought a growl from the doctor, and Sherlock found enough courage to do it again. John shook his hands free and whipped them up the grasp Sherlock firmly, fingers buried in his dark curls. Sherlock's hands found their way to John's hips, and he yanked them tightly to his own. Sherlock stopped caring that he had no notion of what he was doing, and let instinct take over. He wanted more, so much more. John tasted wonderful, his mouth the most amazing thing he had ever felt. All his senses were heightened, and he used them to enjoy the man in his arms. Everything felt new, sensations stirred to life by the man kissing him so passionately.
Suddenly breaking apart, both panting hard for air, Sherlock and John just stared at each other in shock. Sherlock's lips were red and bruised looking, his eyes hooded and his face flushed by color. John was astounded at the response he'd been given to his kiss, and what in turn it had done to him. Satisfaction at giving Sherlock his first real tongue tangling kiss made him smile. Sherlock smiled in return, hesitantly at first then splitting into a wide grin. Sherlock laughed, his voice full of something so rarely heard in it it- joy. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's chest, and buried his face in his neck, laughter bubbling up from him as well. Sherlock hugged him back, their laughter joining together and echoing of the walls of the flat.
...
"Did I do it right then? Did I save you?" Sherlock asked quietly, his chest rumbling under John's ear.
"Yes, I think you did. You saved me very nicely, indeed." John replied, lifting his head to smile that special smile of his at his detective. "I wasn't certain how you would respond, I was quite nervous in fact."
"Hhhmmm." Sherlock caught John's eye, and slowly dipped his head to kiss John quickly on the lips. He pulled back almost instantly, eyes questioning. John was surprised, and happily hugged Sherlock in response. "I want to do that again, John. I am supposed to keep wanting to do that, right?"
"Yes, you are. Please keep doing that." So Sherlock dipped down for another, longer kiss. Sherlock was finding himself enjoying this whole kissing thing far more than he ever thought he would. So much so he got distracted by those firm, soft lips, those strong hands holding him tightly. Sherlock hummed happily as John slowly pulled away, lips clinging for one last kiss before Sherlock let him go.
John pulled away from Sherlock, his right hand gliding across Sherlock's chest as he stepped towards his armchair. Sherlock went to follow, hesitant, unsure of what to do next.
John sat heavily in his chair, and sighed deeply. His face lost the happy glow it had been wearing. Sherlock was alarmed, and went to stand next to John's chair. "John? What did I do?" Oh God, I did something wrong...
"No, no. It's nothing you did, not directly." John's voice seemed sadder, and he had a look that clearly said whatever he was thinking about wasn't pleasant.
"Oh, okay. Not directly? Can you explain?" Sherlock was getting nervous, his stomach clenching in what he thought might be fear.
John looked at him, and grimaced. One word was all he needed to explain, really. One name. "Mary."
"Mary? What does Mary have to do with me?...oh!" Sherlock felt like an idiot, which didn't happen often, unless he missed a clue so obvious it had been staring him in the face the whole time. "You're engaged to Mary, and you were just kissing me."
John smiled, and laughed a little at that. "Yeah, spot on. I need to know what to do about Mary. Or, more accurately, I know what I must do."
"What must you do?" John looked up at Sherlock when he asked that, and reached out for his detective's hand. The ease at which John reached for him reassured Sherlock, and he gripped John's hand firmly.
"Even if you hadn't let me kiss you, if you hadn't kissed me back, I would still have to do this. Break things off with Mary. It's not right. I won't be that person. I can't be with her, feeling about you the way I do. How I've always felt about you."
Sherlock felt that tingle of current along the surface of his skin again, and he stroked a finger along the inside of John's wrist. "How do you feel about me?"
"Sherlock, you great idiot. Can't you tell? I love you."
Sherlock Holmes has never been speechless, never been shocked so deeply he couldn't find some reply. John had even remarked once that he would outlive God to have the last word. But those three words from John Watson left Sherlock without the ability to speak, to think, to move. He heard them echo into his heart, that sorely abused and neglected place that John had brought to life not so long ago. I love you I love you I love you...
More than a minute passed, with Sherlock unmoving and staring at John. John was fairly certain Sherlock didn't even blink. He was starting to worry, and tugged on Sherlock's arm. "Sherlock, you're starting to scare me. It's ok if you don't feel the same way, I know you care, that's enough for me." He hadn't even finished speaking the words before Sherlock exploded into motion, diving at John so fast he couldn't even see him move but for a blur of tan robe and dark slacks. Sherlock locked his lips to John's, hands on his shoulders, pressing him hard against the back of his chair, practically sitting in the doctor's lap. In fact he was so tightly glued to John that he just settled fully into his lap, oblivious to the grunt John made at the weight. John was stunned, but he quickly kissed Sherlock back, his heart racing at the way Sherlock was kissing him, as if he were dying and it was the last kiss they would ever share.
Sherlock pulled back, a manic grin on his face, eyes shining. "Say that again?"
"I love you." John said quietly, sincerely. It was so easy to say to this man of his, he was amazed he hadn't the nerve to say it before. "I love you."
This time John kissed Sherlock, lips firm and sure. Sherlock knew he was smiling, and that John could feel it too. They sat there for what felt like forever, Sherlock sitting in his doctor's lap. John didn't want to leave, but his conscience wouldn't let him procrastinate any longer. "I have to call her, go see her." John said quietly, nuzzling at the unbelievably soft curls next to Sherlock's ear. Sherlock sighed, and then leapt to his feet, pulling John up with him.
"Do you want company?" Sherlock asked, unsure if he was expected to be in attendance for this sort of thing or not. John knew the answer to that though.
"Um, no that might not be wise. I'll call her now, tell her to meet me back at the house." John pulled out his mobile, and just looked at it for a minute before hitting the speed dial.
Sherlock, in a rare moment of consideration for people's need for privacy, pretended to be interested in the way dust particles were floating in the air next to the windows. He waited until John finished talking, having just asked Mary to meet him back at the house. Sherlock marveled at John's willingness to break off his engagement. He found John's faith in him as charming as the man's exclamation of awe at his deductions. John ended the call, and Sherlock turned back to his doctor. He looked pale, and stared at the mobile like it was going to tell him what to do or something.
"John?" Sherlock knew that his doctor would be able to do what he must, but apparently he needed to be reminded he wasn't alone. "It's ok, you can do this. Just tell her the truth, whatever that may be. Tell her everything if you want. I know you care for her."
John nodded, and stood straighter. He smiled at Sherlock, then said, "I'll be needing a place to live after tonight, most likely."
"You already have a place to live, you just haven't been here in awhile." Sherlock smiled at his doctor, enjoying the pleased look on John's face. "I'll clean up a bit. Maybe."
Sherlock hid just inside the flat's front door, waiting until John got into the cab. Hearing it pull away from the curb, he opened the door quickly and stepped out. Thankfully the reporters had all left hours ago, so there was no one on the street to notice Sherlock hail another cab. Hopping in, he gave John's address on the other side of town. He wondered if John would notice. Most of the time he never did. Sherlock had a feeling that John would need him after his talk with Mary. Sherlock whiled away the time on the drive there scrolling through his emails, ignoring all the boring requests from potential clients. Nothing but a bunch of 2's and 3's, and an occasional 5 mixed in there. Nothing worth his time.
Pulling up Lestrade's number, he started to text.
Anything you need me for? -SH
Nope. You just saved England, and you're bored already? -GL
My mind is a terrible thing to waste, Detective Inspector. Can't stand being bored. -SH
You getting bored is dangerous. I'll call you when we need you. Don't cause any trouble before then. -GL
Lifting his head, he saw they were approaching John's street. "Stop here please, on the corner." He tossed the cabbie some notes, and stepped out. He was three houses down from John's house, on the opposite side of the street. He had been only moments behind him, so he saw John step into his door just as he got into a good position. He figured it would be an hour or so before John came back out, as Mary's car parked on the curbside clearly showed she had gotten there first. Spying a bench on the curb, he sat down and waited, eyeing the house John had gone into. He didn't think he was nervous, as much as afraid for John once he got out of that conversation. Mary didn't strike him as the type of woman to just calmly accept John leaving without a fight. She had a steel core to her that Sherlock admired, and he felt a small twinge of regret that he was stealing back his doctor. The afternoon was bleeding away into evening, the sun low on the horizon. Sherlock checked the time, and he calculated that John would be out in another ten minutes or so. He flipped screens on his mobile, and found the cab service app. Plugging in his location, he received an almost immediate alert, telling him a cab was en route.
Sherlock stood up, and began slowly walking down the street toward John's place. The lights were on all over the house, and he caught occasional glimpses of people in the windows as he approached. He saw John standing in what must be his living room, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He was facing Mary, who was standing with her arms crossed, her stance angry and defensive. Suddenly her left arm jerked up, and flung forward fast. For some reason Sherlock's heart jumped in alarm at the sight, as if he had been expecting to see something in her hand. Instead she threw something small and shiny, that bounced off of John's chest before she turned and disappeared into the depths of the house. Confused as to why Mary throwing her engagement ring at John should scare him, Sherlock paused on the street and watched John through the window. He stood there as she had left him, before slowly leaning down and picking up the ring. He placed it gently on a coffee table before turning and walking out of sight of Sherlock's window.
Sherlock heard the cab he had ordered pull up right behind him just as John stepped out his front door, closing it firmly. He caught sight of Sherlock and the cab at the same time, a smile lifting some of the sorrow from his face. John walked towards Sherlock, his bag slung over his shoulder, and with each step he stood taller, his smile getting bigger. Sherlock held out his hand, and without a word they both walked to the waiting cab hand in hand. Sherlock popped the door, and let John get in first.
"Where to?" Asked the cabbie. He started the meter and pulled out into the street.
"Home. 221B Baker Street, please." It was John who answered, making Sherlock smile. They sat in silence all the way home, John grasping Sherlock's hand.