John smirks a little as he looks up at the man in front of him, "How long do you think we can hide out here until we have to go back to the party?" He asks, clasping his hands behind his back to keep from grabbing a hold of Sherlock for another kiss, not wanting to rumple their clothes and make it seem like they did something they did not. John wouldn't mind more intimacy later maybe but right now he'd be just as happy to snog the detective senseless.
Sherlock smirks a little as he looks at John. "I imagine for a while, I've seen Mycroft, Mummy and Ford. No one else in there cares about whether I'm there or not, you saw the way they avoided me." He points out as he looks at John, looking him over slowly. "Did you have something in mind, doctor?" he asks playfully as he looks him over.
John smirks a little, lifting a hand and slipping it around Sherlock's neck again, bringing the detective closer to him. "Well.. for one, I wouldn't mind having a proper snog." he murmurs, his face close to the other man's. "We need to talk about all of this later. We haven't really talked since.." he trails off, swallowing as he rubs the back of Sherlock's neck gently. "Since you came back." He says quietly as he looks into the other man's eyes. "I mean.. We talked about where you were, and that. And I know you're not comfortable talking about feelings, or your past. Blimey, neither am I. But if we're ever going to talk, tonight, on Christmas Eve, at the end of an already strange day.. don't you think that this is the right time?" He asks, speaking quietly as he places a light kiss on those perfect cupid-bow lips, keeping it chaste and brief.
Sherlock returns the soft kiss, and then he nods quietly. "We will talk later, John." he promises as he looks at his doctor. Being bent over like this is slightly awkward but he doesn't want to move, enjoying the hand on the back of his neck, and the feel of the doctor's strong, calloused fingers. He knows firsthand just how capable they are, since they've patched him up more than a few times. "After the party, we'll talk. I'll answer any of your questions. I hope that you will answer some of my questions as well?" he asks quietly as he looks at the blonde man, sliding his own hand up to rest against John's neck, feeling the pulse under his hand, thumb brushing back and forth along his jaw slowly, cataloging the slight rasp of Jon's stubble against his sensitive fingers.
Nodding a little for a few moments, John smiles at the taller man. "You beautiful man.. of course I'll answer your questions. Anything. But later." He says with a little grin, before he tugs the other man down , kissing him deeply, but still keeping the kiss rather chaste, no tongues or anything, just firm lips moving against those of his flatmate's, enjoying the feeling and closeness, taking in the scent of him.
When the kiss finally breaks, Sherlock sighs softly, giving him one soft peck on the lips before he straightens. "We should get back." he says reluctantly, "Dinner will be soon." he says softly, licking his lips and tugging his jacket down to straighten it. But before they return to the ballroom, he looks at John with concern. "How is your shoulder?" he asks, knowing that they had some rather awkward sleeping conditions, and then there was the freezing cold rain outside and all else.
"And people had the nerve to call you a sociopath.." John says quietly, rolling his shoulders a little. "It's a little stiff. It will probably hurt in the morning. I'll have to be careful how I sleep, but luckily your bed is fairly supportive and comfortable." Rolling his shoulder once more, he shifts to re-settle his uniform. "Thank you for thinking of it, Sherlock." He says with a little smile at the man before he turns and slips back into the ballroom.
As always, Sherlock was right and it's not long before they're called in for dinner, the seating seeming to be assigned which means that the Holmes boys and their guests are at the head of the table with Mummy. Mycroft and Sherlock sitting across from each other, then Anthea and John across from them, Q and Bond sitting down one side next to John, and then some great aunt or something across from the two of them.
The food is brought out, several courses of it actually, starting with a soup and ending with a dessert. It's filled with anything you could want from a Christmas dinner, turkey, dressing, cranberry sauce, potatoes, vegetables, etc. Dessert is served with either tea or coffee to try and ward off the sleepiness brought on by the turkey and the previous activities. The dinner is tense, conversation polite but not meaningful, discussing politics, weather, things without any depth. Only Mycroft seems to be able to converse comfortably with his mother or anyone else at the table, comfortable in these situations it seems.
Finally they start to filter out toward the parlor, John grabbing onto Sherlock's hand to make sure that they don't lose each other in the crowd since John did promise not to leave Sherlock alone. "And how long do we have to linger in here? Because that dinner was good, but.. uncomfortable." He says to the taller man, just wanting to go back to their room now.
Sherlock considers, then he smirks. "I believe we fulfilled the quota for social niceties. Everyone expects me to sneak off as soon as possible anyway." He says, before he grabs John's hand, slipping to the back of the room. he manages to exchange a look with his brother, quirking a small smile at him before he glances at John, pulling him out the closest door they were casually moving over toward. He grins triumphantly. "And that is that, until tomorrow morning at least." He says happily before he starts to lead the army doctor back upstairs to their room, sighing a little when he can finally lean back against the door, locking it for good measure.
John relaxes once they're alone, sitting on the edge of the bed to start removing his boots. "It's about bloody time, I need to get out of this.." he says with a shake of his head, standing to undo the various buttons and clasps, at least doing it the justice of hanging it up properly, until he's down to just his undershirt and boxers, hiding the uniform again before he runs a hand through his hair, finding his pajama pants to pull them on.
While he's doing that and distracted, Sherlock strips off his own suit, admiring John for a few moments as he gets his own pajama pants on, though without a shirt. "Is your shoulder still stiff?" he asks as he looks at him, moving a little closer to look at his covered shoulder.
Smiling a little and leaning on Sherlock briefly when he's close enough, John nods a little. "A little. It'll be fine." He reassures, pulling Sherlock down for a soft kiss, trailing his hand down his neck and over his shoulder, his fingers stroking along Sherlock's prominent collarbone.
Goosebumps rising on his skin, Sherlock looks down at John, licking his lips a little. "I might be able to help." He offers, reaching down to slide his hands under John's t-shirt, "Take this off and lay on your stomach on the bed." he says softly in his ear, kissing just in front of it and down his neck a little as his hands slide up John's sides.
"Sherlock.. that is incredibly distracting.." John says softly, sliding one hand through those girls, though he tilts his chin up, enjoying the attentions which are causing a slow burn to start in his stomach.
"Then get this bloody thing off." Sherlock mutters, finally pulling back to help him get off the shirt, pointing to the bed. "Lay down. On your front." he orders, before he goes to start digging around in his drawers, crying out wordlessly in triumph as he pulls out some candles and a box of matches, setting them up around the bed and lighting them slowly, before he turns off the lights, creating a warm glow.
"I don't want to know what experiment you used those for.." John says quietly, but he smirk as he goes over to the bed, trusting Sherlock in this as with so many other things, and he obediently lays down on his stomach on the bed, stretching a little and hands tucking under the pillow under his head.
Sherlock nods a little, quite satisfied with the environment. Slowly, he crawls onto the bed, leaning over and kissing John's shoulder, then the back of his neck. "How sensitive is your shoulder, John? I don't want to hurt you." he says before he moves to straddle his thighs, reaching out to gently run his hands down John's back.
There's silence for a few moments as John enjoys the touch of those hands and he also thinks about his question. "The skin itself isn't very sensitive, in fact the middle of it is mostly numb. Just don't press too hard on it. It's still sensitive sometimes to pressure." He explains quietly, wondering where Sherlock is going with all of this.
Making a small sound in the back of his throat, Sherlock nods a little. "Alright." The detective says softly, his voice low and soft, attempting to be soothing as he moves his hands down to John's waist and starts a gentle massage, using the dexterity and strength of his fingers to his advantage, slowly working his way up John's back, which is a little tense he notices.
"Bloody hell, Sherlock..." John groans, closing his eyes as he tries not to move, though all he wants to do is arch into the touch. "That feels amazing.. Where did you learn massage techniques?" Another small sound escapes his throat, part moan when another knot is released in his back.
"It was for a case. I needed to pose as an employee of a massage parlor. The owner, a masseuse, taught me." Sherlock hesitates for a few moments, since he knows what John's next question will be. "I didn't delete it because I thought it might come in handy again. And now I'm glad that I didn't. I was always told I was quite good. Apparently my violin skills strengthened my hands." he says with a smile as his hands move up John's back, using all of his considerable skills to help John relax, enjoying the sounds that are coming from the other man's throat. When he gets to his shoulder blades he applies a little more pressure around his spin, moving up to work on his good shoulder, then both hands move to carefully massage around the scar, wincing a little as he hears a few hisses and even a whimper come from the man below him. "I'm sorry, John.. just try and relax.." He says quietly, leaning over and giving the back of his head a soft kiss, then his shoulder lightly.
When he feels that he has done the best that he can, Sherlock just rubs his hands soothingly up and down John's back. "John?" he asks, running one hand up the back of his head and through his hair. "Are you alright?" he asks in concern, suddenly afraid that maybe he did something wrong.
Taking a few deep breaths, John nods a little. "Yes.. I'm fine, Sherlock." But his voice betrays him, wavering a little, sounding low and rough, full of emotion.
"What's wrong?" Sherlock asks immediately, a little scared because as much as has happened today, he knows that he's still not good with emotions, he's not good on picking up when he's done something wrong. Finally, he lifts himself up and rolls John over, settling back down still straddling his thighs. What he sees on the older man's face tears at his heart, and he internally starts panicking. There are tears in John's eyes and he looks like he's in pain. Rapidly, the consulting detective starts to go over everything he did, comparing it to everything he was taught and what experience he's had with massage. "John.. John, what did I do? You know I'm not good with these things, tell me what I did wrong, how do I fix this?" He asks, working himself up into a frenzied state as he puts his hand against the side of John's face.
Although he allows Sherlock to turn him over, John doesn't reach out to the younger man, feeling very shell-shocked still as he stares up at his flatmate, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture from his eyes. It takes a few moments for him to register the panic on the face of the man above him, but when he does, he puts his hands on the bare waist of his friend, sliding his hands up his back and pulling him steadily down toward him. "Shhh, Sherlock. You didn't do anything wrong.. none at all. God. It felt so good.. no one's taken care of me like that for a long time, Sherlock. No one's ever touched my scar like that. I didn't realize what emotions it might bring up.." He says as he finally pulls Sherlock down so that their chests are brushing together. "Girlfriends I've had, usually avoided looking at or touching it. Or they just seemed disgusted by it." he admits, just touching Sherlock to convince himself that the other man is here, that it's not all been some strange dream because that is the sort of day it's been.
The explanation relaxes Sherlock and he sighs, allowing himself to be pulled down before he nods a little, squirming down and stretching his legs out a little, resting his head on John's good shoulder for a few moments. "I understand, John.. I'm here. Your scar, is amazing." he says before he shuffles over a little to his other shoulder, starting to kiss around the scar gently. "This.. this amazing thing.. you survived. You could have been killed. If you had died, or if you had never been shot.. We would never have met. You would not have needed me to fix your psychosomatic limp." he says quietly, placing gentle kisses around his shoulder, avoiding the center of the scar tissue, wanting John to feel the loving kisses he places there.
That is almost John's undoing, and he tilts his head back a little to hide the tears, the anguish on his face. A tear or two escapes the corners of his eyes, and he takes a deep breath as he slides one hand into Sherlock's hair, grasping it firmly. "Sherlock.." He whispers, his voice rough with emotion as he holds the consulting detective, not having realized he could ever be so tender, or so loving. For almost four years he's underestimated him. Sociopath, indeed. Not able to stand it any longer, he shifts and flips them over so he has the younger man pinned beneath him. Staring at him for a few moments, he finally dips his head to kiss him, slow and gentle, trying to relate all of his emotions, even though he isn't entirely sure how he himself feels.
Eager to erase all the painful memories from the forefront of John's mind, Sherlock responds to the kiss as he snakes his long arms around John's body, letting the soldier above him lead, wanting to give him whatever he needs to be happy again, to go back to the John that jokes with him and teases him, the one that wanted to ask him a million questions. Despite everything, he can tell that John is much more relaxed even if he's emotionally shaken. Eventually, the need to breathe is strong, and he pulls his head back from John's. "I thought.. you wanted to talk." he says with a mischievous little smile, drawing meaningless patterns on the older man's back.
A small, surprised laugh comes from John at that, and he grins a little. "You beautiful, insane man. You're quite right, I wanted to talk. You are so distracting, I'm half tempted to forget that I ever said that and go back to snogging you." he sighs a little. "But we really do need to talk." He says quietly, giving the man below him one last soft, lingering kiss before he rolls again, laughing when Sherlock doesn't let go of him and so they roll together again. "Who would have thought that Sherlock Holmes would be this cuddly."
Sherlock snorts a little as he rolls with John, then shifts to the side so he's not directly on top of his doctor, snuggling down against his good side, nestling his head onto the doctor's shoulder. "I thought you might find it comforting." he says innocently. "And if anyone asks, I will deny it." he says firmly, smirking a little. "You have questions." He states, amused by the fact that he used that phrase before when they were heading to their first crime scene together.
The reference isn't lost on John, who just laughs a little as he runs his fingertips up and down Sherlock's spine. Once again he's caught with trying to figure out what question to ask first, like he did in the cab that first time. Finally, he decides to bite the bullet and go for the difficult question first.
"What is this, Sherlock? Where is this going?"
I am so sorry to anyone who wanted more out of the party. I was going to write more with it, but I just couldn't figure out anything to write, and the whole massage scene got stuck in my head at work today. (Yes, think about my fic at work). Sooo... here is that little piece of fluff. I always imagine that Sherlock has a whole lot of hidden skills he's had to learn for undercover work on cases, either before or after he met John, or even when he was tracking down Moriarty's web.
For those of you that read both sides of this story, I am so sorry I'm not going to get Friends become Family updated tonight. It's been a long day and I'm pretty exhausted. It took me all evening to get this one out. I will get a new chapter up tomorrow, promise!
Thank you to everyone who left such lovely reviews, they are very, very inspiring! Reviews/comments are welcome, I always like to know what you guys think of my story.