Chapter 34

After they had eaten, Sherlock only a little reluctantly, the detective left the dishes to John under the pretence of having to check something on his laptop. He brought it over to the sofa and flopped down, letting the sheet slide off his shoulders, so he was only covered from the waist down.

John put the plates away in the cupboard and turned around to see Sherlock sitting in the sofa like that. Unconsciously, he licked his lips and stepped closer. "It really should be illegal to look that good."

Sherlock chuckled, and glanced at him. "Only for you, love," he said teasingly.

John rolled his eyes but sat down next to him. "What are you doing?"

"Just checking up on the myth of the books. Fitzroy said something about needing both of them, right?"

"Yeah. And about finding the truth..." John's face fell a little as he thought of the man. "I wonder how he is."

Sherlock looked at him. He frowned and then closed the laptop, put it on the table and reached a hand out to John. "He'll be fine. Come here."

"It's alright," John said, but he willingly let Sherlock guide him into his chest with a sigh.

Sherlock kissed John's forehead and stroked his back gently. "It hasn't been easy for you has it? These past few days?"

John shrugged and held him. "I missed you. Don't really want to talk about what happened, now."

"No," Sherlock agreed. "Let's focus on here and now." He let his fingers dance along John's spine.

John relaxed against him and stroked his sides.

"You know," Sherlock said, moving his hand further down John's back. "It seems to me that you have been doing almost all the work around here in more ways than one."

John chuckled softly and kissed his collar bone. "I don't really mind," he said, snuggling against his neck. "I'm always glad when I can help you."

"Yes, I'm glad when you help me too. But I think maybe it's my turn to do something for you."

John reached up for a kiss. "What do you want to do?"

"I want you to just sit here and relax," Sherlock said with a smile, as he shifted John's weight off him. Then he let himself slide to the floor so he was kneeling next to the sofa.

John looked down, his heart rate speeding up at the sight. He reached down and stroked Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock smiled up at him and moved so he was between John's legs. He slid his hand slowly up John's thigh. "A little help with the pants might be needed," he said with a grin.

John smirked and fumbled with the waistband, teasing. "Do you want them completely off, or...?"

"Just out of the way. Whatever's most comfortable for you."

"Off then, if you're planning to do what I think you are." John lifted his hips a little and got rid of his pants, dropping them next to the sofa.

Sherlock kept his eyes on John's as he reached out and gently started stroking him.

John hummed and moved a little towards Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock leaned forward and kissed the head of John's cock softly. Then he let his tongue dart out and flick across it. The sheet had fallen completely off him and lay forgotten on the floor.

John moaned and tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair, just to feel him close to him. "That's- that's quite a good distraction," he gasped.

Sherlock flicked his tongue again. Then he swirled his tongue around the head, still stroking slowly with his hand.

John closed his eyes and tilted his head back. "Hmm, Sherlock."

Sherlock could not help but smile at the sound of his name, in that particular tone. He opened his mouth and let his lips slide slowly down over the head, his tongue teasing the tip.

John let out a loud groan, but suddenly jumped at the sound of the door handle being pushed down. God no. Mrs. Hudson really couldn't walk in on them like this.

It was worse than Mrs. Hudson.

Mycroft coughed delicately and politely turned his head away from them. "I see that I have chosen a bad moment."

Sherlock sighed. He allowed himself one final lick, before pulling back. He looked up at John.
John just sat staring at Sherlock's brother for a moment with a horrified look on his face, before he came back to himself and picked his pants up, then quickly threw the sheet over Sherlock's shoulders.

"It would be pleasant if you two could make yourself decent a little more quickly. I don't have much time," Mycroft said, still looking away, impatiently tapping his foot.

As Sherlock got to his feet, he leaned in and gave John a brief kiss. "Later," he whispered. Then he turned around to face Mycroft, not bothering to pull the sheet around him to hide exactly how much he had been enjoying himself

"If you were so concerned with decency, brother dear, perhaps you should learn to knock."

"I'll, uhm, get some clothes on. Excuse me." John bolted into the bedroom.

Mycroft gave his brother an expectant look. "Perhaps you should follow his example. He could be a good influence if you let him."

"Why, Mycroft? Am I embarrassing you?" Sherlock pulled the sheet closed with a huff. "Surely you can't be surprised. You know John has been away for several days and just came back last night. What did you expect?"

"To contain yourselves at this time of the day, in the middle of your living room without locking the door," Mycroft answered, pulling up his eyebrows and leaning on his umbrella. "I take it your case is closed, then, if you allow such a distraction?"

"As always I am pleased to not live up to your expectations." Sherlock made a little mocking bow. "What do you care about our case anyway?"

"Like I told you, it's merely an interest in the occupations of my little brother. You found the books, didn't you?"

"I thought you did not care about those books," Sherlock said, raising an eyebrow. "And yes. We found the books and they have been returned to their rightful owner."

"Very good," Mycroft answered with one of his painful smiles. "Both of them?"
Sherlock shrugged. "Well, I don't know if the other one is back in Brazil yet. But as far as I'm concerned, the case is closed." He sat down on the sofa, not being particularly careful to keep the sheet closed.

"Interesting," Mycroft said, still leaning on his umbrella.

John returned from the bedroom, now dressed in a red shirt and the first pair of trousers he had been able to find. His eyes shifted between the two brothers. They weren't even glaring too badly at each other, so he decided everything was alright. "Tea?"

"No, thank you. Like I said, I don't have much time, and just came here to check if all was well. How are you, John?" Mycroft said.

John frowned. "Fine... Why are you here?"

Mycroft ignored his question. "Could you repeat to me the last few words Mr. Fitzroy said, John? It would be of great help to me."

"Mr. Fitzroy isn't dead. It weren't his last words," John said pointedly, sitting down next to Sherlock.

"Of course not," Mycroft answered pleasantly. "I mean of course the last words he said to you."

"Piss off, Mycroft," Sherlock said. "You made it quite clear the last time you were here that you were not interested in this case. If you had been, I'm sure you could have helped me solve it faster and with fewer unfortunate incidents." He laid his arm around John's shoulders and gave him a little squeeze. "Now I suggest you make yourself scarce before I repeat the last thing I said to John, before you so rudely interrupted."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Don't be so childish. I'm not going to steal John, am I? All I am doing is trying to get information for another, similar case. It might be of great importance to the whole country."

John gently pushed Sherlock's arm off his shoulders. It just didn't really help to make him feel strong, with Mycroft looking down on them. "It's fine, Sherlock. I don't think that telling him a few words can do any harm, and besides I don't think I even remember everything. I was kind of busy... trying to make him survive." He shifted. Alright, perhaps Sherlock's arm hadn't been such a bad idea, but now it was too late to change his mind.

Sherlock took John's hand. "No," he said. Then he added in a whisper: "Please don't." He let go of the hand and got to his feet. "My brother was just leaving. Weren't you, Mycroft?" Sherlock took a step forward, letting the sheet slide just a little off his shoulders. "Next time you feel like dropping by, please call in advance. We'll make sure the door is locked, so we don't offend your sensibilities."

John looked up at Mycroft and shrugged, not planning to say anything more.

"Fine," Mycroft said between his teeth, clearly seething under all his composure. "Things would often be a lot easier if you decided to work with me now and then, rather than against me, Sherlock. It would save you and those you love -" his gaze fell on John again - "a lot of pain."

"When you start working with me, maybe I'll consider it," Sherlock retorted. Then he turned to John and knelt down in front of him. Putting his hand on his knee, he looked John in the eyes. "Thank you," he mouthed silently.

Mycroft sighed audibly and went to the door. "At least lock it before dear Mrs. Hudson gets a heart attack," he mumbled, then went out.

"Apparently Mrs. Hudson has better nerves than he has," John smirked, pulling Sherlock up for a hug.

Sherlock returned the hug, smiling. "Did he put you off completely, or do you want to continue?"

John kissed his cheek. "I can't say that a visit from your brother is doing wonders towards getting me aroused."

"Maybe I can help put him out of your mind," Sherlock said, letting his hand move up John's thigh. "Stopping now would be letting him win, in a way. And besides..." he let his voice drop. "I want to feel you come in my mouth."

John grabbed his face for a hungry kiss, blood already rushing back to the right places. "Hmmm, you've certainly won. Why did I even get dressed?"

Sherlock chuckled. "I have no idea. Let's get it off again." He began unbuttoning John's shirt.

John chuckled and gave him a hand, so he was sitting naked in less than a minute. He pulled Sherlock in his lap and kissed him again.

Sherlock kissed him eagerly, running his hand down John's chest. John tangled his hands in Sherlock's hair, sighing.

"I love you so much," Sherlock whispered. "And I want you right now." He once again moved to the floor, settling between John's legs.

John was woken up by Sherlock's lips on his. It was late in the afternoon and they had gone back to bed hours ago, but at some point John must have become exhausted enough to doze off while they were cuddling. He opened his eyes and smiled, then kissed Sherlock again.

"Welcome back," Sherlock said with a grin, when he pulled back for air. "Did I bore you?"

"Not at all," John chuckled. "You've just worn me out, but it was absolutely worth it."

Sherlock chuckled smugly. "Yes, I believe it was. And besides, I quite enjoyed watching you sleep. It's so restful."

"That's the point of sleeping," John grinned. "You should try it. But not right now." He nipped at Sherlock's jaw. "You're beautiful when you look so thoroughly shagged."

"And I expect you'll be doing your best to keep me looking this gorgeous all the time," Sherlock said with a wink.

John laughed and kissed his nose. "I won't let you out when you look like this though. You already have admirers enough."

"Admirers?" Sherlock snorted. "I don't have admirers."

John pulled up his eyebrows. "Forgetting Molly Hooper? And I think Ian Gryffydd would get even worse than she is..."

"Oh. Them." Sherlock didn't quite manage to hide his smug grin.

John poked him playfully in the ribs. "No need to look so pleased."

"Oi," Sherlock squirmed. "I'm allowed to be a little pleased if I during my entire life have managed to charm two people. That's not a lot, you know."

"You're not even counting me," John pouted. "And I'm sure you've charmed more people, only you're too busy being observant on your cases to notice all that."

"I haven't charmed you," Sherlock said, looking very serious. "I've swept you off your feet." He grinned and gave John a deep but rather giggly kiss. "Besides, I only consciously charm those that might be useful to me."

"Hmm, so you found me very useful?" John laughed, kissing him again. "Still, I guess it never was your plan to eventually land in bed with me every day."

"No, John. You're missing the point. I did not intentionally charm you. I found you to be a true friend, so I trusted you, and things just... changed. And no, when I first met you, I certainly did not picture this as a possible outcome. I was an idiot."

John smirked. "You still are, love."

Sherlock huffed. "Why thank you very much... And why am I an idiot this time?"

John shrugged. "You just are one," he said with a fond look. "Because you are a genius, but you aren't exactly a star at emotions, although you are rapidly getting better when it comes to mine. And mainly because I am the only one allowed to call you an idiot, because I am also your idiot, and that makes it just another, less boring way of telling you that I love you. You actually knew that when you were falling asleep, that one time when you got lost in London..."

"Oh yeah," Sherlock smiled at the memory of what that little incident had set in motion. "Well, in that case, I think you're an idiot too."

"I know," John grinned. "Thank you." He gently kissed Sherlock.