Story: The Tell Tale Signs
Rating: M for explicit language and mature sex scenes (graphic)
Pairings: Johnlock, brief John/Moriarty/Sherlock threesome scene
Author: Alithe Serafina Cambre and RJK
Intended Length: 1-3 chapters, 5,000- 10,000 words
Chapter Three
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JOHN WAS RELEASED FROM St. Bart's Hospital a week and a half later. His wound was scabbed over nicely and he had to fight the urge to itch it. He still covered it in gauze bandages an ointment every day after his shower. Other than that, it seemed life had returned to normal.
Until Sherlock got a new case: a serial killer who targeted blonde women wearing aqua blue. He would be gone for most of the day and not tell John where he was. Lestrade was the one that told him about the case, not Sherlock. When he asked Sherlock about it, the detective grew defensive.
"Don't worry about it, John. It's a simple case. I will have solved it by tomorrow." And John accepted that answer… until two days later. Sherlock still had not solved the case.
"Sherlock, you've got to let me help you! I am a doctor; maybe a fresh pair of eyes will do the case some good!"
"Don't be silly John! As if I would have missed something." He wouldn't look at his friend though, and left before John could argue some more.
John called Lestrade and had him bring over the case files and crime scene photos. He pointed out that the victims' hair were always dark blonde and not light blonde and they were all found with their eyes open. "Every detail matters," he said. Lestrade relayed this to Sherlock.
The case was solved the next day. John waited for Sherlock in the kitchen when he returned home an hour later.
Sherlock, you have to talk to me!" he yelled when the detective tried to evade him. "What is going on? Why won't you let me help you?"
"BECAUSE! John, I…" Sherlock had spun around so fast John hadn't seen it. But he did see the tears gathering in his flat mates eyes. "Mycroft informed me that I love you. Normally, I would have ignored him… You think love is a mystery to me… until recently it was. I almost lost you, John! I thought you were DEAD!" he growled. John gaped at him in silence.
"You… you're afraid of losing me? You… love me?" John tried to piece it all together in his mind and failed miserably.
"John… when I thought you were dead… I was planning my own death. Lestrade had to drag me into the police car. As we drove I imagined my own death a thousand times. I told you before… I'd be lost without my blogger." He managed a half smile and continued. "Emotions… John, until you, I was certain I didn't feel things like others do. I assumed my endorphins and lymphatic system was dulled before birth or some such rot. I was… wrong. What I feel for you… it hurts. And it's wonderful." John gasped a breath and stared, his thoughts running a million miles an hour.
He… loves me? What? Do I love him?
He thought back to the time- had it only been two and a half weeks ago?- that he had watched Sherlock whilst he was in his mind palace just before he'd realized the connection between the murder and Edgar Allen Poe. He had been subconsciously admiring his flat mate. How regal he looked. How… sexy.
Okay, so I'm physically attracted to him. But… do I love him?
He thought harder. The more he thought, the more he remembered. Every touch, every smile, every case, every thrill…
Bloody hell. I'm in love with Sherlock Holmes.
John became aware that he had been staring at Sherlock for a long time. His flat mate had finally met his eyes with an embarrassed look and as the silence went on it morphed into the most heartbreaking look of sadness that John had ever seen.
"I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable. I'll pack and leave you the next three months' rent. Goodbye, John." And as Sherlock stepped away, John grabbed his wrist. He pulled the surprised detective into his arms ad stood onto his tiptoes, crashing his lips to Sherlock's.
For thirty seconds, it was like kissing a marble statue. But then Sherlock began to kiss back. And John's mind exploded with sensations. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe… and it was wonderful. He pulled away for oxygen and stared up at his… boyfriend?
"I love you too, you annoying git. Don't ever doubt that." Sherlock smiled widely and swooped down to kiss the shorter man once more. Their hasty passion from the first kiss melted into something slower, more passionate, and more sexual. The feeling was not unlike that of an orgasm that was slowly building, burning in your gut and making your heart beat a little bit faster. John pulled away with dilated pupils and a predatory grin.
"To the bedroom?"
"Absolutely."
JOHN GROANED LOUDLY and Sherlock chuckled. As soon as they had entered the bedroom, the taller man had taken control. He'd shed his shirt and pants and divested John of his as well, leaving both of them in their boxers. He was a virgin, yes, but he'd found lots of- ahem- research online and was fairly certain he'd be able to do this right. He kissed the shorter man feverishly before trailing his mouth lower, placing a soft kiss on the bandage on John's chest and a love bite on his nipple before going even lower.
He tugged his lover's boxers down to his ankles and then off, throwing them across the room. John looked at him with lidded eyes and Sherlock gave him a saucy grin before giving John's cock an assessing glance.
"Very nice, John," he praised in a voice that should have had a warning sign attached to it. "So thick…" he breathed as he bent over the rock hard penis and gave the round, mushroom top head a lick, moaning at the salty taste. John echoed his moan and thrust is hips up, almost smacking Sherlock in the face. Sherlock frowned and pinned the shorter man's hips to the bed with one of his hands before grasping the ex-soldier in his free hand and pumping him firmly. John near-screamed in pleasure and Sherlock's frown turned into a pleased smile. He leaned down and took the head into his mouth, careful of his teeth. John bucked wildly and Sherlock held his hips down as he bobbed his head up and down the shaft at his own pace, concentrating on relaxing his throat and taking the doctor deeper each time. John buried his hands in Sherlock's curls and tugged him off, pulling him up to his mouth. They kissed feverishly and John pulled away for air, admiring Sherlock's bruised mouth.
"John… please," a pained look came over Sherlock's features as he bucked his boxer covered hips into his lover's, their erections separated only by the thin wall of fabric.
"Fuck me, Sherlock. Lube's in the drawer." He jerked his head towards the bedside table. Sherlock reached over and grabbed the lube and a condom.
"No!" John flipped the condom across the room. "I want to feel you…" Sherlock growled and bent down to kiss John, flicking the bottle of lube open with one hand while the other pushed down his own boxers. Sherlock stood to remove his boxers fully and John spread his legs for him to return. He knelt between them and lubed up three fingers. Slowly, he sank his middle finger into John's arse, holding down the doctor's bucking hips with his free hand and bent over so that he could lick his testicles at the same time. He crooked his finger up and John cried out as Sherlock hit his prostate.
Three minutes later, all three fingers were pumping in and out of the blonde. "Sherlock! I need your cock! Please!" Sherlock withdrew his fingers and wordlessly coated his seven and a half inch long penis with lube. Whereas John was six inches and thick, Sherlock was long and relatively skinny, with a slight upward bend to his cock. John admired it briefly as it glistened with lube but then Sherlock crawled over him, using one hand to prop himself up and the other to guide his cock.
"Relax," he rumbled in his sex voice. John relaxed and Sherlock bent down to give him a surprisingly gentle kiss. John moaned into Sherlock's mouth as he felt every inch of the younger man slide into him. It burned with pain but felt so good. He felt Sherlock's balls slap his rectum ad moaned again. Sherlock growled and drew back.
"John… you're… so tight…" he panted.
"Fuck me, Sherlock. I don't want to be able to walk tomorrow." He smiled teasingly and gasped as Sherlock began to withdraw, the friction delicious and addicting. Soon the detective was pounding into John's virgin arse. Not that John had any protests. Sherlock reached a still lubed hand down and grasped John's cock, never breaking rhythm. John cried out over and over as Sherlock stroked both the head of his cock and his prostate. Sherlock responded with breathy groans and pants, amazed at how tight John was.
John came first, spurting all over Sherlock's hand and their chests. Sherlock howled as John's arse clamped down onto his prick and gave three erratic thrusts before painting John's prostate with hot seamen. John shuddered at the sensation, pulling the dazed detective in for a long kiss. When they broke apart, Sherlock made as if to pull out of John but the doctor hooked his ankles on the small of the dark haired man's back, holding him there.
"Leave it. I'm already half-hard again, Might as well be ready for next time." He said with a cheeky grin. Sherlock felt a twitch of arousal in his own cock at these words and smiled back in silent agreement, leaning down to kiss John's neck until they'd recovered enough for round two.
The fact that he left a large possessive claim mark that Lestrade (and the whole bloody yard) saw the next day was certainly not his intent.