"Father…" Sherlock said shifting nervously from foot to foot.
"Don't, Sherlock." His father answered raising his hand as if to halt the words with the gesture. "I don't need to hear your excuses, your assurances, your scientific findings, or your lies. I don't need to hear why or that you promise to never do it again. I don't actually need for you to say anything because I already know everything you could possibly say."
Sherlock nodded slowly and stared at his bare feet. His father had called him down to the office about twenty minutes ago and had just been staring at him that entire time. It was disconcerting. He always felt like his father saw everything. Every flicker of emotion and shift in his eyes. The feeling was quite similar to being studied under a microscope. He hated it.
"You're confined to the grounds." His father said simply. "Indefinitely."
Sherlock just nodded stiffly keeping his eyes fixed to the floor.
"One more slip up, Sherlock." His father said heavily. "And I'll ship you off to a high security treatment facility for a year. Have I made myself clear?"
"Yes, sir." Sherlock muttered quietly.
He was dismissed with a wave of a hand and strode down the hall and toward the conservatory. He couldn't go back to his room because Mrs. Hudson was cleaning it and he knew that Mycroft was prowling around somewhere determined to lecture him again if he was cornered. He glanced out the panes of glass when he saw John and his heart seemed to leap into his throat. He got up and walked quickly to where John was just finishing up mowing the lawn unaware of Sherlock's presence. He grinned impishly as he slithered over behind John just as he turned off the lawnmower and Sherlock poked him lightly on the back of the neck.
He smirked as John nearly jumped out of his skin and whipped around to throw a crooked smile at him.
"You're like a bloody cat." John said before changing the subject. "First day of freedom, then?"
"Hardly." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm confined to the grounds, probably until I die of old age based on the looks my father gave me."
"That's rough, mate." John said wiping his sweat-marked brow on his shoulder. "At least you're not stuck in your room anymore."
"The last four days weren't bad." Sherlock said not meeting John's gaze. John had been allowed to visit the rest of the previous week for a view hours at a time. John had made it his mission to keep Sherlock occupied after that. He'd brought film after film and had even convinced Sherlock to organize some of the clutter in his room.
"I knew you'd like Jeeves and Wooster." John said with a grin before leaning against a nearby tree. "God, I'm completely knackered. What are you up to on your first day of freedom?"
"No immediate plans."Sherlock shrugged. "What is Mrs. Hudson having you do?"
"She actually had to run into town for a bit." He answered.
"So, no urgent plans for you either?" Sherlock asked grinning.
"I guess not." John said, eying him suspiciously. "Why?"
"We could go for a swim." Sherlock suggested.
"Sherlock, I can't." John said with a sigh. "I'm actually supposed to be working."
"And you have nothing to do until Mrs. Hudson gets back." Sherlock answered firmly. "Now come on."
0000000000000000
John smiled hesitantly before trailing after him down one of the walkways that led to the pond. They stripped off their shirts quickly and jumped into the cool shaded water. Swimming about lazily for a bit, Sherlock was floating on his back when he was practically drowned by a wave of water crashing over him. He spat and sputtered and turned a glare on the blond giggling like mad a few feet away. What transpired next was the water fight of the century. Sherlock utilized complex math formulas to determine the proper trajectory and displacement of the water while John used his well-honed experience causing the boys to be evenly matched. Sherlock turned around to avoid a well-formed splash enabling John to tackle the genius into the water. He turned a smug smile on the other boy as he rose from the water sputtering.
"Gotcha." John said.
Sherlock dove at him, hooking those long legs around his own causing him to lose his balance and fall back into the water. He felt Sherlock's arms around his chest and let the taller boy drag him back to the surface. And he had trouble catching his breath after he broke the surface and met Sherlock's bright eyes. He shifted in Sherlock's grip a bit and felt the arm wrapped around his waist squeeze him just a bit tighter.
"Sherlock…" John whispered, feeling his skin flush.
His entire body seemed to shiver as Sherlock ran his free hand roughly through John's wet, blond strands letting it rest against the nape of his neck as he rubbed slow circles with his thumb. John ran his hands over Sherlock's back and felt the taller boy shudder in return.
"John, please." Sherlock pleaded resting his forehead against John's.
John felt himself come undone at feel of Sherlock's chest crashed against his. The contact was thrilling and warm and perfect. He felt his self-control fray as Sherlock placed a hesitant kiss on the corner of John's lips without breaking their eye contact. And he just let go. He so desperately wanted someone to want him back and here was Sherlock. Clutching at his skin and licking at his mouth, Sherlock focused those lovely eyes on him and then their lips were moving hot and smooth against each other. John felt his entire body pulse as Sherlock sucked on his bottom lip and slipped his warm, agile tongue into his mouth. He wove his fingers through those silky, wet curls and tilted his chin up to allow the taller boy more access. He let Sherlock nudge him back slowly guiding him out of the pond and laying him gently on the sun-kissed grass. He moaned as Sherlock laid down flush on top of him and began sucking and licking at his neck. John felt the friction of their hips fire delicious sparks of warmth along his skin. He laid a hand against Sherlock's hip and thrust up experimentally letting the sound of Sherlock's groan send heat to his own rapidly swelling cock. His mind seemed to shatter as Sherlock began licking his way across John's chest paying extra attention to his nipples sending bolts of electricity straight to his erection. Letting Sherlock explore and mark him, he lay back and kept a soft hold of Sherlock's curls. He felt Sherlock's hand rub over his aching cock gently and practically purred bucking his hips lightly into the touch. Suddenly, Sherlock grabbed for the waistline of John's track pants and the blond's hands were scrambling to grab at them as well to hold them in place.
He felt shame slither icily through his veins dampening the delicious lust that had previously been there. He blushed and turned away from the calculating stare that Sherlock pinned him with waiting for the taller boy to scoff and leave. They stayed like that for several seconds before Sherlock shifted positions to kneeling over him with his knees on either side of John's hips.
"You never wear shorts." Sherlock deduced quietly. "Not ever. You have no problem with not wearing a shirt so it isn't some vague sense of modesty. You're not regretting moving forward with me as is obvious by the fact that you didn't pull away from me, you just don't want to take off your trousers."
John swallowed heavily keeping his gaze locked firmly on a tree several meters away. But he could practically feel Sherlock's brain working trying to suss out this new development.
"Your scar." Sherlock muttered. "You don't want me to see your scar."
"I don't want anyone to see it." John whispered correcting him.
He jumped as he felt Sherlock reach out with one finger and unerringly trace the line of puckered skin beneath his trousers.
"John." Sherlock said lightly. "There's no reason to hide any of this from me."
"And why's that?" John asked curiously.
"Do you remember when I helped you mulch the garden?" He said quietly tracing light circles on John's abdomen with his fingers.
"Yes." John said turning to look at the genius caressing his skin.
"The ground was wet." Sherlock said simply.
"And?"
"The moisture had seeped up your trousers making them stick lightly to your skin. The scar was quite visible from the slight indent it made against your leg, if anyone was bothering to pay attention."
"And you were?"
"Of course I was, John." Sherlock said with a shrug.
"So what you're saying is…" John began
"That I could probably give a description of it with a 95% accuracy rating." Sherlock said. "That's why there's no reason to hide it from me. Because I already know everything about it."
"Oh." John said dumbly.
"I'm going to kiss you now." Sherlock said firmly.
"Alright." John said smiling.
Sherlock captured his lips roughly and spread on top of him again. John was reaching to stroke Sherlock's own hard cock when they heard a voice calling.
"John!" Mrs. Hudson called lightly.
Sherlock rolled off of him quickly and John scrambled to his feet just as the housekeeper turned toward the pond smiling at the two boys.
"I need help with hanging some portraits in the Formal Dining Room." She said happily. "I've marked them and they are sitting against their corresponding wall. Would you see to that?"
"Of course, Mrs. Hudson." John said awkwardly. "I'll just go dry off first."
"There are towels in the workroom, dearie." Mrs. Hudson called as John grabbed his shirt and began walking back toward the house.
Sherlock made to leave as well but Mrs. Hudson gave him a look that kept him there as she waited for John to get out of earshot.
"I know what you're up to." She said firmly after a backward glance to make sure that John was out of eyesight.
"I don't know what you mean." Sherlock huffed.
"Don't you lie to me, young man." She said. "I've been around your family enough to have picked up some perceptive skills of my own and I know a freshly made hickey when I see one."
Sherlock swallowed heavily but stayed silent.
"It's about time." Was all that Mrs. Hudson said.
"What?" Sherlock asked shocked.
"You two have been dancing around each other all summer." She said firmly. "It's about time you did something about it."
Sherlock felt his ears pink and stuttered incoherently.
"I will warn you though, Sherlock." She said seriously. "If you hurt that lovely young man, I will personally make it my mission to steal that stupid skull of yours and bin it somewhere you'll never find it."
Sherlock stared dumbly as she turned and walked slowly back to the house.