Authors Note: This chapter has taken me a while- sorry. Not that anyone reads this anyway! Oh well. I had a minor case of mental block and was also busy stalking, ahem, I mean trying to meet Benedict Cumberbatch at the BAFTAs. I was, alas, unsuccessful, but not disheartened and I am determined that I will meet him this year! Then I was staying at my dad's for a week and didn't have much free time to write a new chapter but FINALLY I've completed it! Woohoo! Expect sex. I don't really tend to write smut and I promise to keep this as tasteful as possible! This will probably also be the one of only sex scenes. I think I'm going to do 10 chapters, so nearly finished now! Reviews would be much appreciated!
Three days had passed and Sherlock had not slept. Three days John had gone to bed worried as his best friend and, now, partner had lay awake next to him. Sherlock had been good, stayed quiet, let his beloved John sleep, yet he could not rest himself. He was happy, content and utterly exhausted. This was, however, not the longest time Sherlock Holmes had gone without sleep, so despite John's worrying; he knew that Sherlock was probably okay.
Mycroft had spoken to Lestrade, spoken to all of the officers at Scotland Yard and shown them the tapes that proved that Sherlock was actually a genius. Sherlock himself had gone down and spoken to Lestrade, who had apologised for doubting him, and even Anderson and Donovan had been convinced. Lestrade had spoken to the head of Scotland Yard and, three days later, Sherlock was still waiting to hear if he was fully forgiven and allowed to help out once more. Being without a case was driving him utterly mad. The waiting was too much for him to handle. At least he was eating, John often reminded himself. He cooked Sherlock at least one meal a day. He didn't want Sherlock wasting away entirely when he'd only just got him back!
On the third night, John was serving Sherlock up a large plate of pasta when the phone rang. Sherlock scrambled up from the table in a mad dash to it, John was left staring after him holding a spoonful of pasta sauce.
"Yes?" Sherlock answered, trying to sound composed. Even John could deduce that he was hopeful by the twinge in his voice. Sherlock nodded, his mouth slightly open, eyes looking relieved. "Thank God!"
John stared at his partner. He had known Sherlock for a very long time. Well, he had known Sherlock for long enough. Never before had Sherlock uttered something like that. Never before had Sherlock Holmes looked so happy. Never before had Sherlock Holmes thanked anyone so much.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! I could kiss you. Well, no, actually, I couldn't really but you know what I mean. It's a social expression, right? People do say that? Oh who cares, thank you!" He paused to let the other person speak. His eyes still shining, he cleared his throat and smiled shyly at John. When he replied he was back to his usual tone of apathy. "Let me know if something interesting comes up, Lestrade. Okay? Thanks. Bye."
John smiled at Sherlock and continued dishing up their food. Sherlock, on the other hand, had an entirely different idea. He rushed over to John and swept him up in a passionate kiss. John tried not to spill the pasta as he set it down so he could fully embrace his Sherlock.
"What's with the sudden affection?" John muttered when they paused for breath. Sherlock had hardly touched John the past three worry-filled days, let alone kissed him.
Sherlock didn't answer, just kissed him again, this time more slowly. When they parted again, tension hung in the air. But a good kind of tension, the kind of tension that suggested what was going to happen next. John repeated his question.
"Can't I kiss my boyfriend whenever I feel like it? Do I need permission?" Sherlock asked, half teasing half serious. "I'm happy John!" he added, smiling and kissing him again.
They stumbled to the bedroom, John leading the way, still in a passionate embrace. Sherlock had left a chair overturned on the bedroom floor, John tripped on it and they fell on to the bed. Sherlock landed on top as graceful as ever. John was surprised at how light the man felt, being so tall, but was also pleasantly surprised by how nice his weight felt pressed against him. The kiss deepened and they scrambled up the bed into a comfortable position.
Sherlock hurriedly scrambled at John's shirt buttons and then peeled away the fabric eagerly. John was surprised but happily reciprocated by gently undoing Sherlock's shirt buttons and taking his time to examine the flesh beneath with his finger tips. Sherlock moaned happily as John's finger grazed his nipple. John smiled and threw aside Sherlock's shirt.
Sherlock started to undo John's belt. John stopped the kiss to help him with his flies and hurry the process along. He began to undo Sherlock's fly, too, but stopped himself and broke the kiss again. Sherlock let out a sigh of annoyance and tried to pull John back in, but John covered his lips.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Sherlock?" John asked, making Sherlock properly look him in the eyes.
"Yes." There wasn't a glimmer of doubt in those beautiful grey eyes. Sherlock stared back attentively, searching for any reluctance in John's blue eyes but also found none. "Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, just to be on the safe side.
"Of course," John smiled. They stayed like that for a moment, a million things passing between them but no words being spoken. Then Sherlock forcefully pulled Doctor Watson back into a kiss and things picked up from where they left off: with John scrambling to pull down Sherlock's trousers.
Sherlock rolled off John and kneeled between his splayed legs. John could feel himself getting hard with anticipation but forced himself to ask: "Are you sure you want to do this fir—"
Sherlock cut him off angrily with a forceful kiss.
"John Watson, if you ask me that one more time I will be forced to take drastic measures!" He playfully nibbled John's lip.
John decided he wouldn't argue anymore, Sherlock clearly had his mind set. He decided he might as well just lie back and make the most of it. Sherlock hooked a finger into the waistband of John's boxers and slid them down. He stroked John's cock, eliciting moans of pleasure.
John was just about to mutter some form of instruction to Sherlock, but Sherlock had already taken John's length into his mouth. He licked and sucked expertly, John biting his lip so as not to groan too loud. Sherlock looked up and made eye contact, he looked so utterly beautiful and his eyes shone so wild with lust that John couldn't contain himself any longer.
"Sherlock, I'm going to—"But before he could finish his sentence, he blew his load into Sherlock's mouth.
Sherlock swallowed, a look of curiosity mixed with bestial lust flashed in his eyes. He sat up and kissed John, who could taste himself as he kissed Sherlock back. John reached to return the favour, but Sherlock stopped him.
"This is enough for one night, John," he smiled anxiously.
"Of course, that's fine," John stretched out and pulled Sherlock to lie next to him. "I'm exhausted, anyway."
Sherlock didn't answer, and when John looked he was already sound asleep. John smiled, he could sleep soundly now that he knew his wonderful Sherlock was happy at last.