For those who have been following, favoriting and reviewing, THANKS! Thank you also for being patient while my angsty Doc figures out what's going on...I think we've figured it out, so here's the next chapter...not many changes...subtle, I think for those of you have read it previously, but let me know what you think, eh?
As John searched through the fully stocked refrigerator in the small but efficient kitchenette that en suite provided, he chuckled. Obviously, Mycroft had spared no expense to try to make up for his stupidity. All the staples were there; milk, eggs, butter, bread, bangers, a couple of pounds of bacon and what looked to be half of a spiral ham. He checked the vegetable drawer and found onions, tomatoes and two different versions of peppers. He had the idea to create western omelets and pulled the ingredients from the fridge. He was pleased to find an omelet pan in the cupboard next to the two-burner stove.
He had just finished chopping vegetables and a portion of the ham when Sherlock stepped out of the bedroom. His hair was damp from the shower and he wore the robe John had tossed to him, but it had not been tied. He paused from his prep to take a good long look at Sherlock. The four months they had been apart had not helped his physical form. In the restaurant, he had noticed the gaunt face and blond curls, but he had been too distracted by passion to truly notice how truly emaciated Sherlock's body had become. His ribs stood out against the pale skin. His hips jutted forward prominently and his legs, once so muscular, looked like to sticks.
"What the bloody hell have you done to yourself?!" John asked without thinking.
Sherlock looked up at him in shock and quickly wrapped the robe around himself. Even that action showed how thin he had become.
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked weakly.
"I mean you look like you haven't eaten in months," John said as he set down the knife he'd been using and stepped around the end of the kitchenette's peninsula.
When Sherlock glanced back at him quickly and blushed, John realised that was exactly what had happened.
"Oh, Sher," he said sadly as he stepped closer, wrapping his arms around the taller man, "Why? Before we were together, you at least kept yourself fed."
"I was-"Sherlock said, his eyes sliding away from John.
"Busy," John said with a small smile. He kissed Sherlock gently, almost chastely before he stepped away, "Let me get to that food before you waste away completely."
"John," Sherlock said, stopping his forward motion.
John turned back from the counter and saw Sherlock reaching for him.
"John," he said again and then hesitated, his hands dropping to his sides.
John smiled brightly and said, "I love you, too, Sherlock."
Sherlock's smile peaked out and John turned back to the food preparation. Sherlock stepped up to the opposite side of the counter and sat on the tall barstool there. He watched silently as John threw the omelets together with the ease of a line cook in a fast food diner. He put the bangers in a pan to fry. While things cooked, he grabbed plates and flatware from the drawers and placed them on the counter in front of Sherlock. Sherlock set their places while he flipped the omelets onto the plates.
He walked around the counter and sat on the other barstool at the counter, giving Sherlock's cheek a peck.
"Eat up, Sher," he said lovingly, "Don't want it to get cold."
They ate in relative silence, the click of forks against plates and Sherlock's murmurs of appreciation the only sounds. John was proud of the quick yet delicious concoction, especially when Sherlock wolfed down his entire plate and eyed his until he had passed it over to him. Without asking, John went back into the kitchen and fried up a couple more eggs for each of them and fired up a good half pound of bacon as well. The doctor in him knew it was a lot of fat, but Sherlock needed the protein and fat more than anything else. He ate his eggs over the sink after he had dropped the extra two eggs and over half the bacon on Sherlock's plate.
He began cleaning up the small mess he had created as Sherlock finished up.
"Thank you," Sherlock said quietly from immediately behind him.
He turned around and was engulfed in Sherlock's arms immediately. He had no chance to say 'you're welcome' as Sherlock's mouth descended on his. He tasted of bacon and eggs and fried onions. John nibbled at Sherlock's lip and Sherlock's mouth automatically opened to his. Their tongues battled as hands started to explore. John's hands slid under the robe, pressing the loosely tied garment open. Sherlock shrugged and the robe dropped to the corners of his elbows.
Sherlock dropped his arms long enough for the robe to slide to the floor and John's hands continued to explore. He felt the bones of Sherlock's hips and had to remind himself that he had already fed Sherlock food and any more would make the man sick. He pulled him closer, moaning as he felt Sherlock's hardness pressed against his. He realised in that moment that his robe had been opened by Sherlock's deft hands and he stood nearly as naked as Sherlock was. Before he could do anything or say anything, Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of him and took his cock in his mouth.
Instantly, he had trouble remembering what he was going to say. Sherlock's tongue swirled circles around his head and his hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His head pistoned over John and John lifted his hands to the curls at his hips. He was beyond hard for Sherlock and as much as he loved the idea of coming in Sherlock's mouth for the second time in as many days, John valiantly tried to remind himself that Sherlock had still not gotten his romantic love making. When Sherlock's finger slid into his arse, all thoughts of slow love making ended. As his head slowly slicked up and down his shaft, Sherlock's finger penetrated John in a countermotion.
John couldn't think. He could only feel. But he knew one thing. He wanted more than anything to be inside Sherlock. He grabbed the man's head by the curls and pulled him off with great difficulty.
"Get in the bedroom, now," John growled as he bent to kiss Sherlock's red lips, "I am going to bugger you until you beg me to stop!"
Sherlock instantly stood and nearly ran to the bedroom without even the slightest argument. John was surprised by that, but followed Sherlock more sedately. When he walked into the room, Sherlock was standing at the end of the bed, looking almost lost. If John had not observed the erection jutting from his hips, he would have thought Sherlock was wary or frightened of what was to come.
"Get the lube from the bed," John ordered.
For some reason, he fell into his military voice, wanting to take charge of Sherlock. Sherlock immediately searched the bed for the small bottle John had tossed into the covers earlier that morning. He quickly found it and handed it to John without a word.
"Bend over," he said brusquely. Sherlock immediately leaned over the bed, hand squarely on the mattress. John just looked at him for a moment. The beauty that was this man's figure overwhelmed him. He reached out and caressed the rounded cheeks of Sherlock's ass. Sherlock almost purred at the contact and John felt his cock jump.
He flipped the lid of the bottle in his hands and slicked his fingers. He rubbed the lubrication between his thumb and fingers, warming it slightly before he slid one very gently into Sherlock's pucker. The purr became a small growl.
"Hush," John said. He watched as Sherlock dropped his head to the bed and muffled his sounds in the bedding. He added another finger and heard the growl repeated in Sherlock's throat. He took a chance on Sherlock's subservient attitude and smacked his free hand hard down on Sherlock's cheek, "I said hush!"
Sherlock turned to look at him and the anger John had expected was not there. Instead he saw lust, need.
"So you like that, do you?" he asked, "You like me dominating you? Punishing you?"
Sherlock only nodded his head. John had never felt so turned on in his life. He thrust his fingers a little deeper, a little harder, trying to elicit another sound from Sherlock, but he had turned his head back to the bed. He thrust his fingers again, scissoring them to widen Sherlock for what was to come. It was too late for him to go the romantic route now, he knew. But they both needed release and he wanted to be inside Sherlock when that happened next. The need was throbbing around his whole body.
"On the bed," he ordered gruffly, the lust getting the better of him, "On your back. I want to see your face when I enter you."
Sherlock immediately climbed onto the bed and laid back. John climbed up next to him and took his time looking over his beautiful Sherlock. He positioned himself between Sherlock's raised knees and just looked his fill. As much as he wanted, needed to fuck him, he knew he could not be rough with Sherlock their first time. He traced his fingers down Sherlock's body with one hand and grasped his hard member with the other.
He guided his cock to Sherlock's hole and gently pressed in. Sherlock gasped at the tight penetration and John paused.
"Sher?" he asked, his eyes concerned.
"Please, John," he begged as he shifted, giving John more access.
John pressed into him again, moving deeper. Sherlock whimpered. He leaned over, pushing even deeper. He pulled back and thrust back into him. Sherlock groaned and John could feel it all the way into his balls.
"Yes, my love," he whispered to him, "It's good, yes?"
Sherlock's eyes had glazed over and he moaned. John paused his gentle thrusting.
"Are you okay, Sherlock?" he asked. Sherlock kept thrusting against John, trying to pull John deeper, and never making eye contact. John held Sherlock's hips down and asked again, "Sherlock. Are you okay?"
Sherlock wouldn't look at him. John realised that his eyes were tightly shut, his face turned away. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't tell what he had done to make Sherlock so incredibly tense.
"Sherlock?" he repeated, "Are you okay?"
When Sherlock didn't respond, John moved to pull out of him. Sherlock's arms and legs immediately wrapped around John, pinning him into position.
"Please, John," he whimpered, "Please don't stop."
John could feel Sherlock trembling. He put his hands on either side of Sherlock and tried to push his upper body away to look at him, but the younger man held him in place.
"Sher- What's wrong?" he asked nervously.
Sherlock just growled.
"Please, John!" he begged, "Please, just fuck me! I'll tell you later, just fuck me now!"
He thrust his hips instinctively and Sherlock's grip on him loosened slightly as he groaned. He was able to use his arms to lift his body so that he could grind into Sherlock's pelvis. Sherlock whimpered again and John froze.
"Don't," Sherlock said, finally turning his head to face John and opening his eyes. John gasped at the raw need he saw there. But he also saw the terror. Before he could say anything, the terror was hidden and nothing but lust was left.
"Later," John murmured, "You promise you'll tell me what just happened?"
"Yes," Sherlock whimpered as John wrapped his hand around Sherlock's cock and stroked him, "Please, John."
Sherlock thrust up into his hand and back down onto his cock, effectively fucking himself both ways. It only took a few thrusts before Sherlock stiffened below him and came over John's hand, calling his name. John thrust two more times and came himself with a loud groan. He dropped his body onto Sherlock's, unwilling to remove himself from Sherlock.
Sherlock's arms wrapped around him and he kissed the top of John's head. After a few moments, John tried to move and Sherlock held him tightly again.
"Please," he asked quietly, "Not yet."
John kissed Sherlock's neck.
"Let me go, Sher-" he said gently, "I'm getting a little uncomfortable."
Sherlock reluctantly let him go and John pulled out and away from him. He quickly leaned back in and kissed him with a smile on his lips.
"John," Sherlock said as John rolled away and off the bed. John stopped and looked at him and grinned at him halfheartedly. Whatever had caused the fear and anguish had been put away. There was nothing but love and admiration in Sherlock's countenance. John knew that the discussion would have to happen, but Sherlock wasn't going to give it up willingly.
"I love you, too, Sherlock," he said with a gentle smile as he padded into the bathroom.
"I was going to bloody well say Happy Christmas!" Sherlock shouted. John's smile turned into a laugh as he turned the shower on.
Doc and I need love...please give love if this was at least somewhat enjoyable, eh? He's feeling a little insecure lately...