Warning: Nudity, sexual situations

Beta: Jarri Scythe

Shake the Disease - 5

Sherlock grabbed my arm to drag me away.

"What is it, Sherlock?" I asked as I stumbled a bit.

"I need to get your clothes off… as soon as possible."

We weren't nearly far enough away. Lestrade's giggle followed us down the alley.

"Sherlock!" I exclaimed, more shocked than angry.

"What?" he answered as we emerged from the alley onto the street.

"You shouldn't announce...that publicly!"

"I didn't announce it, I answered your question. Taxi!" Sherlock managed, as usual, to get a cab almost immediately.

"Still, I don't think that was something Lestrade and his people needed to hear," I protested as I climbed into the cab behind him.

Sherlock looked at me sharply, "You don't want them to know about us?"

"I don't really care so much about that. It's just not...polite to publicly broadcast your intent to engage in sexual activity." I spoke quietly, trying to keep our conversation private from the cabbie.

Sherlock scowled and shifted uncomfortably, "Well, they were all making bets on us anyway. This way, at least they know who won."

"What?" I asked, forgetting to be quiet.

"You didn't know? I wasn't sure if you'd noticed them or not, passing the slips of paper around when we would come down to the Yard."

I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, "So who won then?"

"Judging by the pleased looks, I'd say Lestrade."

I sighed again, "Still, Sherlock, such things should be kept private between the parties involved."

"Fine," Sherlock said rather waspishly, pulling his phone out and beginning to tap on it furiously.

It was a very awkward cab ride for me, given Sherlock's announced intentions and then ensuing coldness. I really didn't know if he was still planning on something when we got home or not. In my prior experiences, the cab ride back to an intended liaison involved a certain amount of kissing and cuddling. But then, this was no ordinary relationship and Sherlock was no ordinary partner.

We arrived back in Baker Street and Sherlock got out of the cab and left me to pay the fare, as usual, while he proceeded into the flat.

When I got upstairs he had already removed his coat and was taking off his suit jacket. I stood there for a moment, unsure what to do. I slowly took off my coat while Sherlock watched me with impatience. Once I was out of my coat he grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom and just about shoved me onto the bed. He knelt down and began taking off my shoes.

"Er, Sherlock, what are you doing?"

He looked up at me with an expression that indicated I was the world's biggest idiot, "I'm taking off your clothes, just like I said I would."

"Ok, but...why?"

"Why?" Sherlock rocked back on his heels as if I'd slapped him, and then slowly stood up.

"Am I forcing myself on you, John?" he asked, his voice strangely tight.

"No, I was just wondering...where this is going is all."

"And you think I know?"

"I just don't fully understand where this sudden urge to see me naked came from."

Sherlock knelt back down and resumed taking off my shoes and socks.

"I haven't seen you naked yet," he said. "You've seen me, but I haven't seen you, and I want to."

"But why now all of a sudden?"

He had finished with my shoes and socks and was pulling my jumper over my head.

He seemed to be thinking then said, "What you said to Anderson...you have faith in me. Even when I don't deserve it. I just had to be close to you."

By now he had finished unbuttoning my shirt and pushed it off my shoulders. He scowled at my undershirt.

"You wear too many clothes."

I felt myself blushing as he jerked it over my head. I still wasn't entirely comfortable having my scar exposed to his intense gaze.

"Lie back," he ordered.

I did as he said still wondering what was going to happen. This was a side of Sherlock I'd never seen before.

"What about your clothes?" I ventured to ask.

"Irrelevant," he answered shortly.

Some small part of my brain found this response hilarious, but I was too nervous to actually laugh over it.

He then reached for my belt, I realized I was biting my lower lip so hard I was in real pain. I tried to make myself relax as I watched him unbuckle it, slide it out and off, then began unfastening my trousers.

What is he going to do?

Once he had my zipper down, he grasped both my trousers and pants and began tugging them down. I lifted my hips to help, and a few seconds later, I was completely naked on the bed.

For the first minute, all he did was look. I had to shut my eyes, because the intense, analytical stare was extremely uncomfortable. I was starting to feel more like a body at the morgue than a lover. Soon, however, I felt gentle touches. I opened my eyes to see Sherlock's head close to the skin on my damaged shoulder as he ran his fingertips over the scarred tissue, much in the way as he had done the first time I had shown him my old wound. From there, he thoroughly explored the rest of my body, ending with running his fingertips through my pubic hair and finally wrapping his long, delicate fingers around my now-throbbing erection.

We'd both been silent but I couldn't help giving a small gasp as he took hold of me. He glanced up and our eyes met. His pupils were blown wide open and his face was flushed. I probably looked much the same.

"Roll over," he said, releasing me. I obeyed without hesitation.

He proceeded to duplicate on my back what he'd done to the front of my body, exploring me slowly and thoroughly. This time, he ended with gently running his hands over my buttocks. Then, he withdrew his hands and I heard some rustling. I raised my head and saw that Sherlock was taking off his clothes.

Once he was naked as well, he crawled over to me and we began kissing. We kissed long, deeply, and passionately. There was no need for words, although we both made encouraging moans to each other. We caressed each other's bodies gently, reverently, as if we each thought the other fragile and holy.

Just at about the point that I thought I wouldn't be able to continue without getting a drink of water, Sherlock rolled over and began rummaging in his nightstand. I was about to ask him what was wrong when he pressed a tube of lubricant and a condom into my hand.

If I thought my mouth was dry before, it was now the Sahara.

I looked at him, and his eyes shown with desire and need.

"Are you sure?" I had to hear him say it.

"Yes, John. I love you. I need you. Please."

To be continued...