It wasn't easy getting a look at that damn book. Sherlock held it close to him constantly, as though his life depended on it. Finally, after a week, Sherlock left the book unguarded on the kitchen table as he went to take a shower. In Sherlock's defense, John was pretending to be asleep in the arm chair, which is a very low trick indeed.
John waited until the shower was running before he crept towards the book. He knew something worth knowing about was in the book and the more Sherlock hid it from him, the more he wanted to know what was in it. John carefully undid the string that was tied around the book and opened the front cover.
"Hole. E. Shit," John stated as he read the first line.
If you are the receiver, you must remember to always keep your body relaxed.
The second line sent him sputtering and blushing.
It is difficult for the other man to penetrate you if your muscles are tense.
John wondered briefly if this was the wrong book.
Take deep breaths and remember that the person you are with will not hurt you.
That was true enough, but did Mycroft actually write this?
You are responsible for telling him if you feel any discomfort, as he will probably be unable to tell.
"What the hell is this?" John wondered out loud.
"An instruction manual," Sherlock's voice answered, making John jump violently.
John whipped his head over to look at Sherlock, who had an unreadable expression on his face.
"Sorry, sorry," John sputtered, "I couldn't help it…"
"It's ok," Sherlock answered, "It will probably be beneficial for us both to read it."
"Did Mycroft write this?" John squeaked out.
"Yes," Sherlock answered.
John blushed again and turned back to the book, quickly closing the cover and putting the string back around it.
"You should read it," Sherlock said firmly.
John cleared his throat.
"I'll trust you," John said, not looking at him, "And my previous experiences."
He then sprinted to grab his coat and run out of the flat before Sherlock could ask a question.
John stretched his back and yawned as he waited for the kettle to sing. He closed his eyes and rubbed at his face, still horribly tired. The daylight streaming in the window didn't make him feel any better, just worse. It also didn't make him feel any better that Sherlock seemed to be out of the flat, without his coat. That just made him worry about the man catching a cold.
He sighed loudly and moved over in front of the counter. He stretched up on his tiptoes to get the sugar out of the cabinet, but Sherlock had put it up one shelf from where it usually was. He snorted in frustration as he stretched his fingers just a little further-
John jumped horribly as thin arms wrapped around his waist, hot breath breathed into his ear, and a sharp body pressed against him. He dropped his arms and tried to get his breathing under control as Sherlock breathed on his neck.
"Sh-Sherlock, Jesus," John sputtered, "Do you want me to die of a heart attack?"
"No," Sherlock answered, his lips touching John's ear, "I want to have sex with you."
And that was it. That was all it took for a disoriented, sleepy John to wake up fully and stand up at attention. He bumped against Sherlock as he stood up straight from the shock. Sherlock's hands slid down his body and to his thighs and he blushed badly.
"Are you sure?" John whispered.
"Yes," Sherlock's voice vibrated through John's body.
John didn't know how to stand or move or what to say. So he stood still at attention, waiting for Sherlock's orders. His hands shook at his sides as Sherlock continued to breathe in his ear and slide his hands along John's thighs.
"Be calm, John," Sherlock whispered, "Calm down. Breathe."
"How can I calm down with you doing that?" John hissed at him.
Sherlock spun him around and pressed him against the counter, crowding into his space.
"No need to get rude, John," Sherlock said in a low voice.
John's heart sputtered at the dangerous tone and he blushed as other parts of his body responded to the tone of Sherlock's voice. Sherlock leaned down and pressed his lips to John's. John could hardly breathe as Sherlock's lips wetted his. Sherlock pulled away and growled.
"Breathe, idiot," he hissed.
John gasped in air as Sherlock leaned over him, pressing him further against the counter. It suddenly occurred to him that they were going to have sex. Right then. On the counter. He blushed and gasped in a few more breaths, trying to calm his stallion of a heart. Sherlock pressed him further back and John figured out he was trying to lay him on the counter. He pressed his palms against the top of the counter and lifted himself up and laid himself as easily as he could (it was a counter for god's sake!).
"Good," Sherlock murmured as John situated himself on the counter.
John squeezed his eyes shut and focused on his breathing, shifting to where his ass was available for Sherlock. He tried not to think about it as Sherlock's spidery hands pulled his pajamas down around his ankles. He heard a bit of a laugh and his face turned as red as his pants. He peeked a look at Sherlock who was looking at John's pants with delight.
John squeezed his eyes back closed as Sherlock started tugging on them as well. He tried to find something to hold on to as he heard the tell-tale click noise of the opening of a bottle of lube. He focused on his breathing and keeping himself relaxed as Sherlock pressed his fingers inside of him. He squirmed slightly and opened his eyes halfway to look down at Sherlock. Sherlock looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Is this ok?" Sherlock questioned.
"Yes, fine," John managed to whisper.
Sherlock's fingers pressed around inside him and he closed his eyes again. Finally, when John was about to open his eyes and tell Sherlock he was ready, Sherlock pressed himself inside John. John's body seized up at the intruder and Sherlock froze.
"Say something next time!" John snapped, trying to force himself to relax.
"Don't snap at me!" Sherlock said, "I will gag you if you don't quit being rude."
John shivered and snapped his mouth shut.
"Your cock twitched," Sherlock commented.
John blushed.
"Shut it," he hissed in embarrassment.
Then he was gasping as Sherlock shoved himself forcefully into John and leaned over him.
"You're just asking for the gag," Sherlock whispered in his ear, "I said quit being rude or you get the gag. You continued to be rude. The conclusion is that you want it."
Sherlock thrust his hips and grabbed John's to press himself impossibly deep inside John. John gasped from pain and pleasure and inability to breathe properly. John laid there gasping and scratching at Sherlock's back as his body relaxed around Sherlock.
"You're adjusted," Sherlock commented again, "May I move?"
"Yes, yes, yes," John moaned in a breathy voice.
John couldn't help but gasp, moan and screech as Sherlock thrust in and out of him. He couldn't see straight and his mouth hung open the most unattractive way. Sherlock moved as though he knew what he was doing and had been doing it forever. All John felt was a mix of pain and pleasure that had sweat pouring off of him and his body tensing as his end neared. He screamed into Sherlock's ear and scratched off the detective's skin as he shot white hot liquid all over himself and the other man.
John's eyes flew open and he sat straight up as the cold wetness touched him. He looked down to see Sherlock bent over him, washing him off. He blinked rapidly and rubbed at his eyes.
"H-h-how long have I been out?" he demanded.
Sherlock looked up and grinned.
"Not very long," Sherlock answered, returning to wiping the come off John's legs, "A minute maybe?"
John blushed and looked for his clothes. They were on the ground by Sherlock's feet.
"Can I, er, have my clothes now?" John questioned.
"Obviously," Sherlock answered, picking them up and handing them over, "I wouldn't make you walk about the flat naked. Though it is quite an option."
John couldn't help the deep crimson his face became as Sherlock turned away. John started pulling on his clothes, but stopped when he noticed the angry red lines on Sherlock's back. He hastily pulled his trousers up and came forward, tentatively touching one of the lesser scratches. Sherlock jumped and looked at him over his shoulder.
"Sherlock!" John shouted, "You're bleeding! Holy shit!"
"It's ok," Sherlock assured him, "I actually quite like them."
John looked up at him in confusion. Sherlock smirked at him
"Just means I did a good job," Sherlock said smugly.
John rolled his eyes and turned the detective to face him.
"Prat," he muttered as he leaned up to catch Sherlock's quick lips.
Little note: OH MY GOODNESS! I HAVE GOT TO PEE! Ahem. That's the end, my friends. I held in my pee so I could finish this for ya'll. Hope you all like it! Love you all!