AN: Thank you to all my lovely readers and reviewers, you all make this project worthwhile. Cookies for all.
Disclaimer: No matter how much I want them, the boys are still not mine. So, I'm just going to borrow them for a bit to play with... ;-)
SH/JW
Greg went off to bed not long after dinner pleading exhaustion from the long investigation and rescue operation. Sherlock and John had not long after settled themselves with books into their customary chairs before the hearth. John could tell that Sherlock was pleased with the arrangement. He was as well, as it brought back many pleasant memories of their old home at Baker Street. Even though he had missed those times dearly when he was with Mistress Irene, he doubted that he would ever regret what he had learned at her hands.
It hadn't been just the sex training really. It had been really about the internal emotions that he was happy to have learned about. He had always known that he was attracted to the brash detective, but he had always somehow felt that it was wrong for him to feel as deeply for the man as he did, does really. Mistress Irene had explained to him that that feeling of wrongness was not his own, but really came from how he had seen his sister treated after her coming out, and about all the wrong-headedness that came from being a military man. She had calmly explained to him one night about a month into training, as he was learning how to kneel properly so that his feet didn't fall asleep, that it wasn't about a person's gender, it was about what was inside of them that mattered. Her words had really struck a chord within him. He had spent a long time afterwards thinking about it. After a few days he had come to realize that she was right. It wasn't that he was gay, because he wasn't, not really, it was because Sherlock is Sherlock. He would be attracted to and love him regardless, so long as he was always Sherlock at heart. He cherished the smile that Mistress Irene gave him when he had told her that. He stopped trying to get away from her after that and she had given him more freedom as a result. It was much easier learning what she was teaching once he stopped fighting, especially once she had explained why she was doing it. She was giving him to Sherlock, free of the inhibitions that she had seen him fighting with. He was grateful to her for that.
'John?'
He looked up from his book, a rather rousing science fiction novel about a prince and his friends rescuing the keeper of a huge galactic library. 'Yes Sherlock?'
Sherlock looked uncomfortable as he closed his own book, something on the study of bees he thought. 'We need to talk about rules.' He cleared his throat and fussed with the book on his lap. 'Greg mentioned that you might be more comfortable if we… laid out… rules.'
'Okay.' John wasn't entirely sure where Sherlock was going with this, though obviously he had discussed a few things with Greg. But, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised, Mistress Irene had mentioned that Sherlock might have a few rules of his own for him to follow. 'Do you want me to tell you the one's that I am already familiar with, so that you can change the aspects you don't like and so we can work out a few that would be mutually beneficial to both of us?' The younger man's mouth opened and closed a few times. Sherlock really had no idea did he, the poor thing. John really did have his work laid out for him didn't he.
'That would be fine.'
He sat back and got settled again. 'Alright. So to start off with the first rule is always obedience. While I was with Mistress Irene, I was obedient to her, but that was only for my training. Now that I am back with you I am obedient only to you, unless you say otherwise. Part of that rule also covers disobedience. In cases where obeying is against my health or yours, or puts one or the other of us in danger, I am allowed to disobey with no repercussions. Other disobedience comes with penalties. These of course depend on the circumstances. For example, my calling you Sherlock in company, as I did earlier, when I was supposed to call you Heddwyn, could result in a night kneeling blind-folded, or banishment to sleep in a separate room. Something more severe would result in a harsher punishment, but of course nothing that causes permanent damage or disfigurement. Do you understand so far?'
'So if I were to tell you that you are to sleep in your assigned room, you would have to?'
John nodded. 'Yes. However that leads into one of the other rules that I am currently trained to follow, readiness. I am to always be at hand so that if you need me I am available.'
'What does that mean, exactly?' John could tell he was absorbing it all, as his fingers were now steepled under his chin, his book forgotten on his lap.
'I am to stay within easy reach at all times. I can be in the next room, or sleep at the foot of your bed if you so desire, or kneel next to the bed all night while you sleep… During the day obviously if I'm not with you I will be able to be reached by text and I doubt that you would object to me going to the market on my own. I did frequently for Mistress Irene in the last few months when Kate was unavailable to go.'
'She trusted you to?'
He smiled brightly, 'Oh yes. After the first couple of months I was allowed to go out with Kate. It was only in the last month or so that I was allowed to go by myself.'
'I see.' His silvery green eyes were narrowed. 'Continue.'
'Well those are the two main ones. I am to care for you, obviously, that's a given. Everything else is changeable according to your desires.'
Sherlock leaned forward and dropped his eyes to the floor. 'So if I were to ask you to kneel at my feet for the rest of the night…'
He nodded as he set his book aside and did just that, 'I would obey. If I did not I would expect you to punish me for disobedience.'
'Explain. I saw the scars.'
He smiled up at Sherlock, catching the detective's eyes again. 'I know you did. I'm not ashamed of them. I earned every one of them.' He brought a hand to the hem of his jumper. 'May I show you?'
Sherlock nodded.
After his jumper and t-shirt were off he turned to show his Dom the crisscross of scars on his back. He was pleased to feel a hesitant hand reach out and touch the back of his left shoulder. 'Tell me?'
Sherlock's voice was low and quiet as he started to recite the history that he could read on John's back.
'Left shoulder, sniper wound from Afghanistan, part of the reason you were invalided. Various shrapnel wounds, also from Afghanistan, most likely obtained in the same attack as the scarring on your shoulder. Crescent shaped scar from adolescence, knife fight, probably in defense of your sister.'
John shuddered in pleasure as Sherlock's cool fingertips traced each of the scars he spoke of.
'Newer ones are from after we met and you were taken by that woman. Nearly all of these are from a riding crop, finger nails, or a whip, right-handed use, probably or rather definitely, administered by Irene Adler. I highly doubt she would allow her assistant to do the punishments after all.'
'You're right she wouldn't.' He turned and faced Sherlock. The other man's finger's never leaving his skin. 'She only had to punish me that much a few times. I understand Sherlock why she did it. She never liked punishing me that badly. Not good for either of us, but I learned. She only wanted me to get past my fear.'
'Fear?'
John sighed and smiled sadly. He could hear that same fear in Sherlock's voice and read it in his eyes. His own was scared of his heart. He would fix that too. 'Caring is not a disadvantage Sherlock.' He carefully laid a hand on the other man's knee and was pleased when he did not flinch away from it. 'In the right circumstances it can save lives.'
Sherlock's eyes fell closed as he leaned back slightly. John could tell that he had pushed the issue almost too far and was to the point of nearly overwhelming the younger man. Pulling away he stood and waited for Sherlock to meet his eyes. He could tell it was the right thing when his Dom glanced away after only a second. 'I'll go to bed with your permission. Where would you like me to sleep tonight?'
It was several minutes later before Sherlock nodded and answered softly. 'Your room.'
'Thank you.' He bowed slightly and picked up his jumper and shirt. 'Goodnight Sherlock.'
His last glimpse that night of the other man was of him staring blankly at the hand that he had been touching John with.
SH/JW
AN2: And remember reviews feed the author...