Miss
Sherlock really hates going anywhere. He likes to stay in London, and if at all possible stay at 221B. Before John he didn't like to go places because of the people everywhere. Everywhere you look there's someone new, and for someone who people generally hate, it's really hard to leave the house. Now that he and John are together, he wants to bury John in the confines of 221B. He wants it to be their net, their niche, theirs.
But this case is extremely interesting. Not only is the sole heir of the company convicted for embezzlement and fraud, he's convicted of murdering his own parents. He pleads guilty, and Sherlock's no lawyer, but they call him to get the facts and the evidence. He's called the night the bodies are found.
"It's only in Germany, John, and it shouldn't be that long."
"The last embezzlement case we had lasted two weeks, Sherlock. Two weeks."
"Then come with me," Sherlock plainly says.
John groans. "I can't, love. I've got work. And this case decided to land on Sarah's vacation."
"Tell her—"
"The vacation she's had lined up for three months."
Sherlock sighs. "Then I'll go alone. And I'll have incentive to work quickly."
"Good," John says. "Just be safe, alright? Please? No bullets or fires or sexy men or—"
Sherlock quickly turns to John and cups John's cheek. "I'm leaving the sexiest man," he coolly says. He pierces John's skin with his crystal eyes.
John bites his lip. "Just be careful, ok? And eat, please. And sleep, dear god remember to sleep a bit."
"You worry too much," Sherlock says before diving in for a suffocating kiss.
John didn't need breathe anyway.
John paces the sitting room and Mrs. Hudson watches. She's sitting quietly on the sofa, her head darting back and forth like watching a tennis match on slow motion. She takes a deep breath.
"John, he's fi—"
"I don't know that. You don't know that. Lestrade doesn't know that. The only person who knows is Mycroft and he won't tell me anything."
"Well, the elder Mr. Holmes is a very busy man, dear, and—"
"Sherlock's dead. Or hurt. Or dead. I just know it. I haven't spoken with him in five days," John quickly turns to Mrs. Hudson and shouts, "Where is he?!"
Mrs. Hudson slightly jumps at his loud voice. "Come here, dear," she says, patting the sofa next to her.
He slumps to the sofa and throws himself down. Then, he leans forward against his knees and rubs his eyes. "I'm sorry, it's just…" he rubs his entire face, then looks at her. "I'm so tired. I haven't slept since he left. I'm so worried that I make myself sick. I just want to know he's ok, to hear his voice…anything."
Mr. Hudson rubs small circles into his back. "It's alright, dear. I'm sure he's perfectly safe. When was the last time you called?"
"I called four times yesterday, and today I'm cooling it with the calls."
"Try before bed, alright?"
John nods.
John eagerly brushes his teeth and throws an old shirt on. He gets to his bed and takes the shirt off, though, because he usually sleeps in only pants anyway. He slips under the duvet and picks up his phone.
A tingly feeling runs through his body when he presses send. He shyly smiles and bites his lip as it rings; his body full of excitement.
"Sherlock Holmes," the voice on the other side absentmindedly says.
"Hey, love," John says, still a bit shy.
"John," Sherlock observes.
"I know…" John sighs. "I know you're busy, but I just miss you so much and I want to know you're not dead and that you're eating and sleeping and—"
"Hang on, John," he says. John hears his mutter a few things to someone else, then he's back. "Ok, I'm back."
John smiles to himself. "Anyway, I just want to make sure you're ok. You'd better be eating, mister, and—"
"I'm eating right now, as a matter of fact."
John narrows his eyes, though Sherlock can't see him. "Why don't I believe you?"
Sherlock sighs. Then the sound comes over John's ear that someone is FaceTime Calling him. He glances at the screen and, of course, it's Sherlock. John clicks the bedside lamp on and answers the call. It's an image of a takeout container.
"I told you," Sherlock says offscreen.
"Alright, alright," John replies. "I believe you now."
Sherlock turns the camera around to face him. "Oh," he mutters.
John's smiling very wide back at him. He takes in Sherlock's face; his plump, parted lips, his wide eyes, his sharp cheekbones. Sherlock bites his lip and John says, "I missed you."
"You're naked," Sherlock says.
John looks down at his body. "Oh, sorry, I'll—"
"No!" Sherlock quickly snaps.
John gets an evil grin. "No?"
"It's just," Sherlock clears his throat. "It's not bothering me. How are you?"
John continues grinning. "I'm fine, love. How are you? How's the case?"
"It would be easier if people here understood me. If you were here, I'd be done by now."
"I can't arrest people, love."
"You can kill people," Sherlock mutters.
John laughs. "Well, I'll let you get back to your team. I love you."
"No, no," Sherlock says. "I told them I was turning in for the night."
John pushes himself deeper into the bed. "Good," he says. "Why don't you slip into something a bit more comfortable?"
Sherlock looks down at his clothes. "I am comfortable."
"Let me try this again," John clears his throat. "Take off your shirt," he demands in his captain voice.
Shivers run down Sherlock's spine. He clears his throat, too. He holds his arm out so more of himself can be shown on the phone screen, and he begins to slowly unbutton his shirt with one hand.
As soon as his pale skin can be seen under his black shirt, John whimpers.
"Is this what you want?" Sherlock asks, his voice thick with lust.
"Yeah," John breaths, "Just like that."
"This hardly seems fair," Sherlock says, pulling his shirt off. "Your shirt is already off."
John chuckles. "I didn't know it was going to lead to this," he says. John slowly rests his hand on his chest, then delicately runs his hand up his own chest. He wraps his hand around the opposite side of his neck, in the exact way Sherlock's hand would lay if it was Sherlock.
Sherlock growls.
"Why did you just growl?" John huskily asks.
"I should be touching you like that," Sherlock says.
"Mmmm," John groans, "I wish you were."
"I want to touch you, John," Sherlock says, his eyes suddenly very heavy lidded. "With my hands and my tongue and my cock…"
John nods. "I want you to. I miss you so much," John says.
"I miss you…" Sherlock replies.
John breathes deep. "Trousers. Now. Take off your trousers."
Sherlock lips his lips and begins to do so.
"No," John snaps. "I want to see."
Sherlock nods and flips the camera around again so John can see his lower half. His long fingers skillfully unbuckle his trousers.
"I wish I could see all of you," John says.
"Hang on," Sherlock says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
When John sees Sherlock again, he's standing in front a full length mirror with no shirt and his trousers half undone. "Every hotel room's got one," Sherlock says.
"Clever, clever boy," John says. "God, you're so sexy."
Sherlock smirks and resumes undoing his trousers. He unzips the fly and firms his stance on the ground. He smiles at John, gives the trousers a little push, and lets them fall off his hips to the ground. He's got tight, white pants on; John can see the outline of his erection perfectly.
"You look hungry," John observes.
"I'm only wearing pants and you're saying I look hungry?"
John shakes his head. "Sorry, sorry. Continue."
"Mmm," Sherlock sounds, thinking. "I still don't think this is even."
John rolls his eyes and stands, going to their full length mirror and standing in front of it. "Happy?"
"Your pants are far too dark," Sherlock says, staring at John's dark green pants through the screen.
John takes hold of his erection and gives himself a long, hard tug. "How's that?"
Sherlock's cock pulses at the sight. "Perfect," he says.
"Pants now," John demands, the captain voice back. "Take 'em off, pretty boy."
Sherlock cocks an eyebrow. "Are these terms you commonly used in the military?"
"Once or twice," John says, "When someone got outta line."
Sherlock slips a thumb into his pants on his hipbone. He pulls his pants down a bit, then switches to the other side. He slips them down past his arse in the back, but in the front his erection is holding them up.
"Tease," John says.
Sherlock grins and pulls his pants down all the way to his ankles, his body bending all the way down as he pushes. Then he slowly stands, and for the first time John sees his cock.
"Thick," John mutters. He's not just referring to Sherlock's erect cock, but to his lover's naked body. For a skinny man, Sherlock's got a lot of muscle, causing him to be quite thick and sold. "Big," Just mutters, this time commenting on Sherlock's cock.
Sherlock smiles and takes hold of himself, gripping the base and squeezing. "Your turn," he says.
John nods and takes his pants off with far less finesse, letting the fabric fall to the ground once it was past his arse. Sherlock doesn't mind, however, he just moans at the sight of John's erection.
Sherlock begins to stroke himself with slow, rhythmic thrusts. He bites his lip and waits for John before he gives himself the full job.
Suddenly feeling very perverted, wanking in front of his far away spouse over phone camera, John blushes.
"John," Sherlock says, sensing the change even from his hotel room in Germany. "Don't, John. There's nothing wrong with this."
John takes Sherlock's words and nods. "Ok," he says, taking hold of himself.
Sherlock moans loud.
John spreads the precome already dripping out of him onto his cock, giving him easier strokes. "God, I miss you, Sherlock, ughhh," he says.
Sherlock turns to his side so John can see the full length of his cock.
"Long," John comments, turning to his side as well.
Sherlock lets the drops of precome fall to the floor, not caring about the mess or the stains. This hotel room has seen far worse, he momentarily thinks, wishing he hadn't seen the smudges of dry cum on the headboard. He put a pillow over it and left for a scene rather than worrying about it that moment.
As they stroke themselves, each man grows more frantic. Each strings out their own words of longing towards the other.
"So beautiful," John says, "You're so gorgeous…"
Sherlock pants. Sweat falls down his body, leaving him nearly glowing.
John licks his lips, wishing he was licking Sherlock's sweat.
"John," Sherlock moans, "Oh god, Joooohn…"
John closes his eyes, then instantly opens them again, not wishing to miss any of the free porn show he's receiving.
"John," Sherlock says, this time trying to get John's attention. "This is a strange request, but I want you to do something for me."
"Anything, love, god anything…"
"Come on the mirror," Sherlock demands.
"Come…on the…"
"Yes, please, John."
John nods and turns to face forward, sensing his orgasm is just a few strokes away. "I love you, Sherlock," he mutters, "I love you so much."
"I love you, John," Sherlock babbles. "Come for me, baby, come—"
The simple words coming from Sherlock's mouth should mean nothing, but to John's lizard brain, it's the sexiest thing on earth at the moment. His toes curl against the floor, his mouth forms a perfect circle, and with the faintest moaning sound, John comes right onto the mirror.
"Oh god," John hears Sherlock say before he grabs the head of his cock and comes into his hand. He nearly double over with sensation, for a split second imagining John's mouth catching the cum as it has many times before.
When the spasms end, Sherlock stands and takes deep breaths. He stares at John through the camera, John looking utterly debauched and embarrassed.
"Don't be embarrassed, love," Sherlock reassures him. "That was perfect."
John nods and shuffles over to the bed, deciding he can clean that up later. He flops onto the mattress and holds the phone over his head so he can see Sherlock.
Sherlock goes to the bathroom of his hotel room to clean his hand. Once finished, he goes back to the bed and falls down on it.
"How do you feel?" John asks.
"Tired," Sherlock answers.
"You'd better be sleeping, young man."
Sherlock smiles. "I am, I promise."
"Did you finish your dinner?"
"I'll put it in the mini-refrigerator for tomorrow."
"You'd better eat it, youn—"
"I will!" Sherlock cuts him off.
John smiles at his husband. "I love you," he says.
"I love you, too."
"Come home soon, please."
"I will, I promise."
John nods. "I miss you."
"I miss you, too."
John yawns loud and wide. "Ok," he says, once he can breath again. "Call me tomorrow."
Sherlock nods. "I will."
"Good. Get some sleep."
"You too."
"I love you," John says one last time.
"I love you, too, John," Sherlock says. "So much."
John smiles, feels like crying, but doesn't. "Bye, love."
"Bye, John."
* This chapter is extremely long and I am sorry about the length, not to content. This was prompted by…someone…didn't someone say miss? Someone did. Anyway there might be a sequel to miss later. Thanks !