Author Notes: First of all, the trip to London was fantastic and I could have stayed longer, but I'm also glad that I can work on my stories once more.^^ Enjoy the new chapter and let me know what you think! :)
Unconditional and Wholeheartedly
"This was absolutely mad," John giggled as they both tumbled over the threshold into their flat. He should probably worry about his mental state, if the memory of the last few hours sent him into a laughing fit, but he couldn't seem to stop. Not even, when he recalled the feeling of the cold blade against his throat. After all, he had survived with nothing more than a minor scratch to tell the tale of today, while Thomas Lang had been hauled off to the hospital, while stilled pinned to his own mad experiment.
John shook his head in fond exasperation as he recalled how Sherlock had beaten the killer up and then driven a nail through his wrist. Trust his friend to always be able to surprise him. John had known that Sherlock was a competent fighter, but he hadn't been aware that his friend was an expert in various martial arts - he had been too busy taking care of Mrs. Hudson, while Sherlock had beaten up someone, the last time.
"You loved it," Sherlock's voice sounded from the doorway of the kitchen, just when John reached for the kettle. "Well, the part, in which a mad man threatened to behead me wasn't so much fun, but...Yikes!"
The breath was knocked out of John, when Sherlock pressed him against the kitchen counter and claimed his lips in a bruising kiss. Hands roamed all over his body, sneaking underneath his shirt and stroking his heated skin, while John clung to Sherlock's shoulders for support as he was snogged to within an inch of his life. When they parted - gasping and panting for breath - there was no need for words as John quietly nodded to Sherlock's questioning glance in the direction of his bedroom.
Actually, John mused as he followed his friend into the bedroom, they should both be much too tired for this. After all, they had been up and about for the better part of forty-eight hours, with the added adrenalin spike of a life-or-death situation. Anyone else would order some take away and fall into bed, but then... John couldn't imagine that anyone else got themselves into this kind of situations. Therefore, it was almost impossible to make comparisons. Besides, John didn't feel tired - or even exhausted - as he stripped off his clothes and joined Sherlock under the covers. He would probably suffer from too little food and sleep tomorrow, but John couldn't seem to give a damn as he sealed Sherlock's lips in a passionate kiss. His friend melted against him and John allowed his hands to wander freely over Sherlock's body. His well muscled chest. His narrow waist and...
John blinked in confusion as his fingers encountered the fabric of pants and he broke the kiss, just as Sherlock started to speak. "John, there is something you should know."
Ah, there it was. John slapped himself mentally for forgetting that he had yet to assure Sherlock that everything was fine. "Shh," John placed a finger on the red kissed lips and met Sherlock's nervous gaze with a smile of his own. "I know. I have seen your medical record once, when you where at the hospital. It's fine. Completely fine."
Instead of the relieved smile, he had expected, John merely received a confused frown from his friend. "I doubt that what I'm about to tell you is listed in my medical records."
"But..." John started, but Sherlock silenced him with a shake of his head and a heavy sigh. "No, John, it's not. You and I are talking about different things."
Confused, John laid back down on his side to face Sherlock, who mirrored his position as he ran his fingers gently through John's short hair. "I know that you have seen my medical records, after all it was my doing that one of the nurses handed them to you."
"You...?!" John groaned quietly at the realisation that Sherlock had been one step ahead of him yet again. Of course, it was good to know that Sherlock himself had arranged for John to find out that he was transgender, but... it left John wondering what else his friend wanted to talk with him about, while they were in bed.
"Oh God, you aren't sick, are you?" John's heart jumped at the idea that his friend might have caught something, while he had been using all these years ago.
"If I were, you would have read about it in my medical records, although... some might tell you that I'm indeed sick, but that's just their uninformed opinion and not a diagnosis."
"Sherlock!" John didn't know how much longer he could stand the anticipation. His arousal had long since waned and he just wanted Sherlock to spit out whatever was troubling him. Yes, Sherlock Holmes - great consulting detective - was troubled by whatever he was trying to tell him and John didn't like it. Usually, Sherlock wasn't even nervous about admitting that he had exploded the microwave - yet again - so therefore, whatever it was, it had to be something serious.
"I'm not interested in sex."
John blinked, repeated the words in his mind and... laughed. Dear God, he had feared that his friend was hiding something heartbreakingly painful from him. A terrible scarred part of his body, due to an former injury or a surgery that had gone wrong. And John would have hated for his friend to live with such a painful remainder, but this... it was...
"Nice to know how to make you laugh," Sherlock's bitter voice sobered John instantly as he blinked the happy tears away to meet his friend's hurt gaze.
OOO
Sherlock should have expected it. After all, he was used to all kind of reactions, since he had figured out that he wasn't interested in sex. At least, not like others were interested in the mere physical act of giving and receiving pleasure with another human being. Said others - men and women alike - had given Sherlock more grieve for his lack of sexual interest than for him being transgender. That wasn't to say that there hadn't been some transphobic arseholes in his life, but... most relationships and friendships had ended, when Sherlock's sexuality - or lack of it - had come up. Some had wanted to convince him that he just hadn't found the right one yet and others had accused him of being a tease. Each of these rejections had hurt, but none as badly as John's mocking laughter in the face of Sherlock's confession.
"Go on, laugh some more," Sherlock all but spat as he turned his back to John and curled in on himself. "Are you going to tell me - as a doctor - that everyone has sexual urges? Which is completely wrong. Or are you going to suggest that I just give it a try with you? Or maybe you wonder why I even transitioned, when I'm not interested in sex."
"What?!"
Sherlock glanced over his shoulder at John's shocked exclamation. His friend didn't look mockingly, if anything at all, John appeared sick to his stomach as he inched closer to Sherlock and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. For a second, Sherlock considered shrugging it off, but he decided against it, in the end. John had yet to insult Sherlock and it didn't look like this might happen in the near future, if his friend's facial expression was anything to go by. Besides, Sherlock found the warmth weight of John's touch grounding as his friend rubbed small circles on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry that I laughed. It wasn't..." John sighed and Sherlock noted out of the corner of his eye how he pinched his nose with his free hand. "It was an exhausting day. You had me worried that you were sick or something equally bad and I... I laughed because I was relieved."
"Relieved?" Sherlock echoed quietly and turned on his back to gaze up in John's exhausted, but honest face. "You are relieved that I'm not interested in sex?"
"Well," John shrugged. "I imagined all kind of horrible scenarios, it was like an anticlimax, when you told me that you are asexual. After all, it's nothing bad. Just a part of you, like me being bisexual is a part of me."
Sherlock blinked. It felt like his mind had gone offline while processing John's words. He couldn't recall anyone, who had ever reacted like this to his coming-out as asexual. Even Mycroft - who had always treated Sherlock as his little brother - couldn't seem to stop making cutting remarks about Sherlock's sexuality.
"And what has your transition to do with your sexuality?" Sherlock shook his head at the remainder of his heated words from before. "It was just something, an idiot told me once. That I shouldn't have bothered to transition, if I don't want to have sex. It's stupid."
"Definitely, especially since... No, this thought process is just so wrong that I can't even start to dismantle the logic behind it." A small chuckle escaped past Sherlock's lips at John's angry words as his body finally got the message that his friend wasn't mocking him and he relaxed against John's side.
Gentle fingers found their way to his curls and Sherlock sighed contently, when John massaged his scalp with just the right pressure to make Sherlock dozy. He was halfway on his way to sleep, when John's voice penetrated the warm cocoon of sleepiness once more. "If you aren't interested in sex, how am I to understand our heated kiss? I'm not accusing you of being a tease" John added hastily. "I'm not trying to make you feel guilty and have sex with me, I just... I want to understand you. What you enjoy and where your boundaries are."
Sherlock shook off the last of his sleepiness and forced his mind to process the new information at high speed, as he gazed up at John in amazement. John H. Watson, the only man, who would always be able to surprise Sherlock. "So you still want to... have a relationship with me?"
Judging from John's words and the warm hand that still lingered on Sherlock's shoulder, there was no need to ask, but he had to be sure about it. Sherlock needed the verbal confirmation that the revelation of his sexuality hadn't changed John's mind on this important matter.
"Sherlock." The tender tone of John's voice, made Sherlock turn on his left sight as to lay face to face with his friend once more. "I wanted to be with you for years. I mourned you like a widower would mourn his husband, when you jumped from Bart's." A painful expression crossed John's features, but it vanished, before Sherlock could apologize for his faked death once more. "All I could think about in these two years was how I would like to get the chance to hold you in your sleep and kiss you awake in the morning. I even left Mary for you, when you came back, although I was ready to propose to her, at that time. I... Of course, I want to be your boyfriend."
"Partner," Sherlock corrected absently, while he couldn't help the brilliant smile that turned his lips upwards at John's passionate words.
"Fine. Partner, it is then," John chuckled quietly and carded his fingers through messy curls. "Now that this is settled... are you going to answer my former question?"
It took Sherlock a moment to recall how their conversation had proceeded so far - evidence of how exhausted he was - but then he nodded slowly at John. "Yes, well... I'm not interested in sex, but that doesn't mean that I'm adverse to it. I'm not disgusted by it, I just don't feel the urge to indulge in sexual activities. And the kiss," Sherlock bit down on his bottom lip as heat crept into his cheeks. "I needed to feel that you are alive and to... make sure that the morning before the case wasn't just one of my daydreams."
"So, you daydream about us snogging in the kitchen?" The heat in Sherlock's face intensified, but he also relaxed at John's easy teasing. It had been longer than a decade, since someone had joked with him like this while in bed and even though Victor had been wonderful... he couldn't hold a candle to John. Not only because John was extraordinary - in his ordinary ways - but also because Sherlock... loved John. Really, it was as simple as that.
"But you didn't intend for anything sexual to happen between us afterwards?" From John's raised eyebrow, when Sherlock merely shrugged at the question, he suspected that John had expected a negative reply. "I told you, I'm not interested in sex, that doesn't mean that I don't enjoy it with someone I... care about."
"And by enjoy you mean...?"
"The intimacy of it. Touching, kissing, licking..." Sherlock gestured to their covered bodies to underline his point. "I'm not adverse to anything and yes, penetrative sex is included in this," Sherlock added with an eye roll, when John made to voice his question. "I just enjoy it on a different level than most people do."
"You mean, you aren't physically aroused by it?" John traced a cheekbone with his index finger and Sherlock leaned into the contact with a content sigh. "Yes and no. I can get physically aroused, if my body is stimulated in the right places, but... I don't like it. It feels horrible to me. You... you probably can't understand that." Sherlock lowered his head and glanced down at the sheets. He had come to terms with his sexuality years ago - although it had taken longer than for him to realise that he was a man - but after such conversations, Sherlock always felt like he was somehow... lacking. It didn't give him any comfort that there were other people like him. It never had. Maybe, because he was too different in every possible way and...
"No, I doubt that I can fully comprehend it," Sherlock sighed quietly to himself. "But I get that you enjoy intimacy in your own way and that I'm allowed to touch you as long as I don't try to arouse you, right?" There was a nervous edge to John's voice as he added a question ark to his sentence, but Sherlock couldn't reply, as he was too busy gaping at his friend - partner - in awe. John had listened to him. Truly listened and... Sherlock leaned forward and kissed John's lips in quiet confirmation as he couldn't find the right words to express how much John's compassion meant to him. Blue eyes softened in the light that filtered through the curtains, when John smiled at Sherlock and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.
"So, anything else, I need to know?" John yawned half-jokingly as he draw the covers up to his chin.
"I won't always want to have sex with you, when you feel like it," Sherlock blurted out, before he realised that John hadn't been entirely serious about this question. He clamped his mouth shut with an audible click, but the damage was already down. John's formerly soft eyes had darkened at his words and were now of a stormy blue as they regarded him. Sherlock knew that look. It was the look, John always got, before he did something a bite not good... like beating a criminal up for threatening Sherlock's life or breaking someone's nose to defend his friend's honor. Usually, Sherlock liked this expression, just not when it was aimed at him. He was just about to take his words back, when John's deadly calm voice cut through the silence in the bedroom. "Who did make you believe that you always need to have sex with them, when they felt like it?"
Sherlock blinked at the question. This wasn't the reaction he had expected. "You... aren't disappointed that I won't..."
"Christ, Sherlock! No, of course not!" John grinded his teeth as he shook his head vehemently. "Even if you are only up for sex once a year, that's fine. As long as I'm allowed to kiss and cuddle you and fall asleep next to you for the remaining 364 days of the year, I don't care. It's just... two people don't always feel like having sex at the same time. It's normal to not want to have sex, even when your partner wants it. It's... tell me their names and I'll pay them a visit."
Sherlock shook his head, even while he tried to wrap his mind around John's words. If he was to be believed - and Sherlock believed John - then Victor hadn't been as good a partner as Sherlock had always thought. He filled this new realisation away to be inspected at a later date, before he reached out to his friend and stroked John's arm soothingly. "It's fine. It was a long time ago. Let's just forget about it and go to sleep."
For a second it appeared like John was about to argue the point, but then he just sighed in defeat and nodded his agreement. "Alright, but you promise me to always tell me, when you aren't comfortable with something or don't feel like doing anything at all, okay?"
"I promise, John."
This got Sherlock another gentle kiss, before John snuggled up to him and Sherlock was allowed a few minutes of bathing in the warmth and scent of his friend, before the exhaustion of the day caught up with his body and he drifted off to sleep.
OOO
He was warm.
John sighed contently, but kept his eyes closed as he rose slowly from his deep slumber. He couldn't remember the last time, when he had slept so peacefully. Without nightmares or late night emergencies caused by his brilliant friend. Maybe, John mused with a lazy smile, his restful sleep was due to the presence of said friend in bed with him. It had always calmed John's mind, when he shared a bed with someone he cared about. Besides, sharing a bed with Sherlock had the added benefit that his friend couldn't get in any trouble, as long as he was lying next to John.
Something tickled his chest.
John forced his eyes open with a sigh - expecting to catch Sherlock with a feather in his hand - and blinked in confusion, when he looked down at messy curls on his chest. They hadn't fallen asleep in this position. So either, Sherlock had snuggled closer to him in his sleep or decided that John was as good as any pillow and changed their positions willfully. Whatever the answer, the sight of Sherlock - asleep and unguarded - made something warm swell in John's chest as he brought his hand up to ran his fingers gently through the messy curls. He had almost given up hope that they would ever end up like this. Together. In the same bed. Not out of necessity, but of their own free will, because... they had finally admitted that they were more than friends to each other.
John took a shaking breath and swallowed the happy tears that sprung to his eyes as it finally sunk in that this was real. After all these years - after walking through a morass of grief and regret, anger and relief - they had arrived here and John would never let go of Sherlock ever again, would never let go of the feelings that floated his chest in these seconds. Happiness. Contentment. Joy. A sense of homecoming after a long journey and... Love. Yes, John admitted to himself with a smile. Love was definitely a big part of what he was feeling right now, although it appeared too small a word to describe how much the man in his arms meant to him.
John gazed down at the sleeping form and smoothed Sherlock's slightly creased forehead with his index finger. He couldn't even start to describe how much his friend - and partner - meant to him. Sherlock was... his life. Really, it was as simple - or maybe not exactly simple but true nonetheless - as that. John couldn't and didn't want to exist without Sherlock by his side. "How you could ever believe that I would leave you just because you aren't interested in sex is beyond me," John whispered quietly, while Sherlock slumbered on. "Even if you never wanted to do anything sexual, I would still want to be with you." If he was honest with himself, the realisation had shocked John a little. Not the part, where he would give up on sex completely to be with Sherlock, but... that the thought hadn't bothered him. All of John's former relationships had included sex - his first experimentations with kissing at primary school notwithstanding - and it had always been an important part for him. Still, sex hadn't appeared essential anymore, when John had believed that he would have to choose between Sherlock and sex. He would always choose Sherlock.
"I love you," John whispered daringly into dark curls, when their owner snored quietly.
"I love you, too," a sleepy voice replied and John's heart stumbled in his chest, before it started a faster rhythm against his ribcage. "You're awake."
"Obviously." Blue eyes blinked up at John from under long lashes, a sly smile on the plush lips as Sherlock pressed a kiss to John's right nipple. "I can't sleep, when you are thinking so loudly."
John shook his head in fond exasperation. "You are incredible, but now that you are awake, I can finally get up."
His words hadn't been meant as a rejection in any way - John's full bladder had just gotten his attention - but Sherlock still shot up from his lying position and sat back on his heels. "Of course, you want to get up." Sherlock stared bitterly at a point behind John's head. "You don't see any need to stay in bed with me, when... nothing worthwhile is about to happen."
John gaped at Sherlock in horror as he sat slowly up himself. One part of him wanted to hug his friend and never let him go again. Another part - a very loud and angry part - of him, wanted to hunt down whoever had made Sherlock believe that it was only fine to stay in bed together to sleep and have sex. John couldn't articulate any of these thoughts, before Sherlock spoke once more. "If I promised you to make it worth your while, later, would you stay?"
John closed his eyes in a silent prayer and opened them again to Sherlock's nervous gaze. "No," he stated firmly and then hurried on, before his friend got the chance to misunderstand him even more. "I really have to get up, to take a piss... and maybe brush my teeth, but I intend to come back. No matter if we continue sleeping or cuddling or you tell me everything about the different species of bees once more." John leaned forward and pressed a closed mouth kiss to Sherlock's lips. "If something more happens and we both feel like giving it a go, that's fine as well, but it's not a must. Never. Please, don't ever assume something like this again."
John watched Sherlock's Adam's apple pop up and down as he swallowed and finally nodded. "Yes, alright... Sorry, John, I was just..." Sherlock shrugged helplessly and John's heart constricted painfully in his chest as it was squeezed together by an onslaught of emotions. "It's fine, Love. It's just our first morning together, we will figure it out." Blue eyes lit up at the endearment, as Sherlock nodded and John made a mental note to use it more often, before his bladder made its presence known once more and John hurried to the bathroom.
After the most pressing business was taken care of, John brushed his teeth and shaved the considerable amount of stubbles - no surprise after two days without a razor - and then opted for a quick shower as well.
Refreshed and clean, he was greeted by the delicious scent of pancakes and brewed coffee, when he left the bathroom. Furrowing his brow, John ventured carefully into the kitchen and sighed in relief, when he spotted Sherlock handling the pans, instead of Mrs. Hudson as he had feared.
"Don't burn yourself," John warned Sherlock, who was only clad in his pants, as he retrieved mugs and plates from the cupboard.
"I won't." Blue eyes swept over John's naked body - expect for a towel around his hips - and widened, before Sherlock handed the spatula to John. "Especially not, since you are taking over now."
"What?" John stared at the pan and then at Sherlock, who hurried in the direction of the bathroom. "When you are finished with the pancakes, bring them into the bedroom. Don't forget the syrup or the coffee." With this the bathroom door was clicked shut and John shook his head with a fond smile, even while he sighed in mild annoyance. It was fine for Sherlock to want to take a shower after he had noticed that John had taken one, but... John didn't really fancy baking pancakes, when he was clad in nothing but a towel. Still, breakfast in bed... Sherlock was obviously more of a romantic than he let on.
Mollified by this promising thought, John followed Sherlock's orders and had just prepared everything for their lazy morning breakfast in bed and gotten back under the covers - propped up against the backrest of the bed - when his boyfriend emerged from the bathroom. And by God, Sherlock looked gorgeous, all tousled, wet curls and stray drops of water running down his naked body. Yes, John noted once more as his eyes trailed down the whole length of Sherlock's body, he was definitely completely naked. Neither towel nor pants stopped John from taking in all of his boyfriend's beauty and his cock gave an involuntary twitch at the sight.
John glared quietly down at the traitor - which was thankfully hidden underneath the covers - when an amused chuckle made him look up in surprise. "It's fine, John," Sherlock winked at him as he sat down on top of the covers and leaned back against a pillow. "You shouldn't feel like you have to hide your bodily reactions from me. I told you, I'm not disgusted by them and... I feel rather flattered by your interest in me."
John watched fascinated how a faint blush spread from Sherlock's chest up to his ears and he couldn't withstand the temptation of leaning over and stealing a kiss from plush lips. "You are bloody amazing," John whispered and then turned his attention back to the pancakes, before certain parts of his body could get more interested in Sherlock than his stomach was interested in food.