Author's Note:
Two things: You get to see John swear up a storm this chapter and a brief scene with Sherlock's dad. Usually, Audrey writes for all the other characters but I wrote from Sherlock's dad this chapter and future ones. I also write for his Mum, but she won't appear for awhile. Anyway, you aren't supposed to like him. He's kind of a dick and by kind of, I mean totally. All the reviews last chapter, were amazing! Thank you so much everyone! I love getting such lovely feedback!
That sound was all too familiar. Crumbling rock, dust invading his lungs. Collapse. "Sherlock?" John whipped around and was face-to-face with a wall of debris. "Sherlock!" His shout was frantic as he coughed to clear his lungs, his breathing suddenly hard. Blackford. He needed to get the other soldier to safety. He glanced around the tunnel and was more than relieved to see the light from the entrance. He picked up a steady jog, Blackford groaning every once and a while in pain, and the moment he saw Hollman he lifted the other soldier up. "Hollman, second collapse. Sherlock's in there." And he twisted on his feet and darted back to the wall. "Sherlock, talk to me. Are you alright? Injured?" His free hand was running up and down the wall of debris. He couldn't move it without killing them both, the tunnel wouldn't hold. "Sherlock?" The last question was quiet, scared, tentative.
Once the debris stopped falling down all around him, Sherlock realized his ears were ringing. He had been closer to the cave-in than he thought. He rubbed at his ears reflexively, even though it wouldn't do a bit of good until the sensation subsided on its own. Was someone speaking? John probably. He went to reply and all he could do was cough on the grime that was still floating in the air around him. When he finally spoke, his voice was a loud shout but in his head it sounded like a dull whisper. "John, if you are there I'm fine! I can't hear anything right now! Think my equilibrium got knocked off somehow!"
"Fuck." John looked around the cave for a moment, pressing his head against the rocks in an attempt to hear Sherlock speak. "Fuck, Sherlock, I told you this was a bad idea!" He shouted as he slammed a foot against the ground beneath him. It was like the man on the other side of the wall never listened to him. Sure, Sherlock was a genius, but John had been through this before and Sherlock had just played his emotions so he could come into the tunnel. "You just had to go and get yourself trapped in a God-damn tunnel, you bastard!" He was shouting as loud as he could now and it was only a hand on his shoulder that yanked him away from his thoughts.
"Doc, we've got maps, c'mon." Hollman spread them out on the ground and John fell to his knees instantly, studying them. "There is one last way in but that tunnel is probably going to collapse soon. It is losing structure really fast and this cave in obviously isn't helping. It's really narrow and you should fit just fine. Sherlock might have to duck." He glanced at the Captain who nodded.
"Fine. How far away is the entrance?" John asked instantly. The response chilled him.
"A mile," Hollman responded softly.
"You hear that, you bloody idiot? A fucking mile. You better not die Sherlock!" John moved to stand right next to the rubble. "Don't you dare move or I'll fucking kill you myself."
John was saying something, of that he was certain. All he could make out was the words 'move' and 'kill' all the other words were muffled echoes in his ears. Sherlock sighed. He didn't have time to stand and argue with John. He closed his eyes and let himself think only of the map he had just studied. There was another way out. He would have to double back to get to the other exit. He finally leaned up off the wall. He had to resituate the bag on his back before beginning to walk back the way he came. He flicked on the torch once he was close to where the opening should be. He swore rather loudly. It was narrow. The opening was big enough for him to crawl through, maybe. The first collapse must have caused the entrance way to be obstructed. He removed the pack and set it down gently. He didn't want to risk another cave in. He took off the body armor and helmet. Sherlock stripped off his shirt, shoes and socks and then his pants. He couldn't risk anything getting snagged and him trying to struggle free and getting crushed to death. Now he was only wearing the necklace with the ring on it and his underwear. He began to go through the contents of the bag for anything useful.
John ripped off his body armor and tossed it at Hollman. "I'll be back." He climbed rapidly out of the tunnel and started sprinting as fast as he could. One mile. He needed to reach Sherlock and ignore the burning in his lungs, the weakness in his legs, and just go. It felt like an eternity before he noticed the entrance, sliding to a stop and ripping the door open. Narrow. That was what he remembered. He dropped himself carefully into the tunnel, wincing at the sudden light change, and instantly turning his torch on. "Jesus," he whispered, having to turn to the side to start going in. After several minutes of slow movement he noticed light that could only be coming from another human. Sherlock would move. "You bloody git," he hissed, sliding out of the narrow tunnel and studying his fiancé. Almost completely naked. Good thinking, he noted for a moment. "Don't you fucking scare me like that ever again." He wrapped a hand tightly around the back of Sherlock's neck before roughly meeting his lips.
Sherlock was still recovering his hearing, so he never heard John. He hadn't even noticed the other light source, as he was intent on going through each item in the bag. He found a large baggie with gauze and emptied the sterile pads into the dirt. He spun around the same moment John appeared in front of him and he squinted to try and read the lips that spoke. It was probably some snarky rebuff so he smirked in response. He returned the kiss, embracing John tightly.
John whimpered into the kiss, pulling away as he inspected Sherlock's body. Injuries. Look for injuries. He couldn't hear. "Hurt?" He mouthed to Sherlock, tilting the other man's head from side to side to check for injuries there as well. He laughed softly at their situation before moving around to pick up Sherlock's clothes. "Put them back on, you should be fine if you hurry." He moved to his bag, closing all the opening pockets of his bag. "We need to go. Now."
Sherlock took the clothes and shoved them into the baggie. He could put them back on later. He eyed the opening and then John, wondering how the other man had fit. He shrugged it off and picked up the torch. No time to argue who would go first, not that Sherlock would be able to hear John anyway without shouting at each other. No sense in risking another cave in with unnecessarily loud sound waves bouncing around off the walls. He squeezed through, dust and dirt covering his sweat covered body. It was still sweltering hot, despite being stripped down to his skivvies.
John watched Sherlock with a glare before picking up his bag and putting it above his head. He slid into the narrow tunnel with his arms above his head, clutching his bag. It was hard to breathe, too hot and too dusty and Christ he wanted to get out of here. The light to the exit was finally visible and John nearly shouted with joy, tossing his backpack out before eagerly climbing out himself. He collapsed on to his stomach into the dirt, breathing heavy and swearing through his tan undershirt. "Fuck you, Sherlock," he stated with a grin, not caring that the other man couldn't hear him.
Sherlock tried to wipe the sweat and dirt off himself, but only succeeded in smearing it across his body. He grumbled in discontent and wondered if it would even be worth putting his clothes back on. Probably not. He was hot, dirty and sticky. His clothes would just cling to his body and cause even more discomfort. "I guess spelunking is out when we go on our honeymoon." He still spoke louder than need be, a grin on his lips. His hearing was getting better though, the ringing wasn't nearly as loud before.
John burst out laughing, sitting up and pulling his shirt off. "C'mere." He stood up and moved toward Sherlock despite his words. "I was seriously going to kill you," he stated with a smile, running his shirt down Sherlock's chest and stomach to clean him off. After inspecting Sherlock he turned toward his bag and pulled out his water bottle, wetting his hands and running them down Sherlock's face before following that with his shirt. "Welcome to Afghanistan," he muttered with a glance in Sherlock's direction. He pushed himself up on his toes and gently met Sherlock's lips.
Sherlock smirked and watched as John cleaned him off as best as the other man could. He returned the kiss, drawing John into a hug. "I was worried about you. Glad you are okay." He gave a tighter squeeze, his head coming to rest on John's shoulder. He supposed they shouldn't be out here too long. At the rate things were going for them, an enemy patrol would come along and capture them both. He released his fiancé finally, and hastily put his clothes back on.
John let his eyes scan Sherlock's body before he turned to his bag to grab a new shirt. "I'm Captain John Watson," he muttered as he pulled the shirt over his head. "I'm always fine." It was a cocky statement, something Sherlock would say, but he didn't care.
"Oi, Doc." Hollman tossed John's armor in his direction, dropped a second pair at Sherlock's feet. "Don't scare us like that again!" The two men embraced and laughed.
"C'mon, let's get to base." He took the gun that the soldier handed him and moved to stand beside Sherlock. "We've got quite the walk ahead of us." He slipped his armor on and pulled his bag on to his back, and smiled. "Let's try not to get you killed."
Sherlock eyed John and the other solider when they embraced. Would he always be jealous? He grumbled to himself and put the body armor on. The ringing in his ears had finally ceased, so if he listened carefully he could make out what was spoken. He figured in another half hour, his hearing would be back to normal again. Even though he had long legs and could have easily kept up, he lagged behind the other two men. He was pouting.
It took several minutes for John to realize that Sherlock wasn't keeping up with him. He slowed down slightly and fell into step beside Sherlock. "Stop pouting," he whispered softly, smiling up at Sherlock. "It's just a hug. We're like family out here. There isn't anything going on." He elbowed Sherlock's side and glanced ahead of them. "This means we get another night together. I imagine you'll be sleeping on the base now."
"Well, you had said you wanted me to fuck you out here." Sherlock replied with a smirk, his eyebrows raised slightly. He walked side by side with John the whole way back to the base, not seeming to mind the distance or the heat right now. He was just happy that they were both okay. When they got back, he heard a familiar voice yell his name. No. It couldn't be. Dad? He found Mycroft and glared at his older brother.
"Sherlock! Don't pretend you didn't hear me! You stupid, selfish boy! What were you thinking? Are you trying to lead your mother to an early grave? I swear, your older brother is the only one who has sense between the two of you!" Colonel Siger Holmes, stood in front of his son. He was an inch or two taller, his posture straight like a proper military man should have. A formidable man indeed.
It was like being a child all over again. Even now, he was still intimidated by his old man. Sherlock didn't shirk away though and he met his father's gaze with a glare. He shouted back, "Why is it bloody okay for everyone else to run around risking their life but when I do, all I get is flak?" His nostrils flared and he tried to stare his father down.
Siger slapped his son in the face, hard. "Don't talk back to me!" He growled.
Sherlock bit back a retort, rubbed his check sullenly and looked away in defeat.
Everything had seemed perfect until they had gotten back to base. It was obvious the tall man was related to the Holmes boys, and it was even more obvious where Mycroft got his looks from. The man was tall, taller than Sherlock, and carried himself exactly like John. The arguing caused him to wince and glance toward Mycroft who looked like he suddenly regretted getting the older man here.
That was when the sound of the smack reached John's ears.
His head whipped around, eyes narrowed, and he shed his backpack with a speed he didn't know he had. "Sherlock..." He pushed his fiancé a few steps away from the other man, pulling his hand away to inspect the skin before turning back to Sherlock's father. Who the Hell hit their child like that, adult or not? He completely turned his back to Sherlock to face his Dad, spine straight and hands at his side. "Captain John Watson." He glanced back at Sherlock before he spoke. "I'm Sherlock's fiancé."
"I know exactly who you are. You have a superior officer in front of you, Captain," the word 'captain' had a bit of condescending tone to it, "and I'll ask you only once to show me the proper respect I deserve. Something I've earned in my years of service." Siger Holmes, quite possibly the only person who was more arrogant than Sherlock. He expected anyone of lower rank of him to stand at rigid attention, give a crisp salute and to stay standing at attention until otherwise stated. He ran a tight ship within in his ranks and even if wasn't officially in charge, he still expected of every enlisted military personnel.
Sherlock hadn't really been shocked his father slapped him; it hadn't been the first time and it probably wouldn't the last. He glanced at John and his father talking. Nope. No one talked to John like that. He got in his father's face, so they were chest to chest and his head titled up slightly so he could stare into the older man's eyes. "No! You won't bully him, ever!"
Siger smiled dangerously. "Are you ever going to grow up, boy? You had such potential and you do nothing but waste your talent. You are a disgrace and disappointment." He spat the words and then he turned to the helicopter that head brought him here, twirled his finger in the air and ducked into the aircraft as it started up and flew away.
If the older Holmes hadn't jumped away into a helicopter John was fairly sure he would have punched the man in the face. It didn't matter that he was Sherlock's Dad and it was probably a good idea for the man to like his future son-in-law. Except right now, with the way the man had treated his fiancé, he didn't give a damn. He flipped off the helicopter before roughly grabbing Sherlock's hand and leading him toward the barracks. He knew Mycroft would have a single room with a door.
"Out. Now!" John whipped the door open to the personal room and when Mycroft opened his mouth to protest he shouted again. "Now!"
The older Holmes brother darted from the room and John slammed the door shut behind him, roughly shoving Sherlock against the door and attacking his neck. "Fuck me," he growled, ripping at the shirt Sherlock was wearing. "Now."
Sherlock trailed after John, more automatically than anything. He blinked when the army doctor yelled at his older brother. He was about to say something but John had moved in on him aggressively. Never would have thought these words would come out of his mouth, but here he was saying them. "John. No stop. I'm not really in the mood." He put his hands on his fiancé's chest to halt the progression but he didn't push the other man away.
John looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes, panting as he glanced down at Sherlock's hand. Jesus, he was hard and Sherlock wasn't in the mood. He took a small step back, his hand adjusting the bulge in the front of his pants. "Sorry. Just... adrenaline. Sorry." he lowered his head, his hands resting on his hips as he struggled to compose himself. Sherlock had taken a step forward while they'd been at the hotel and now it was John's turn to step up. "D'you want to talk about it?" He asked softly. There was a bed in the room, they could easily snuggle and talk.
With a slight frown Sherlock watched John. "I'm sorry," he muttered. He felt miserable for having told the army doctor 'no' when it was obvious the other man needed him right now. He shook his head and then said, "Not really, no. Believe it or not, that was one of the more pleasant interactions I've had with him." He tried to smile, but it didn't reach his eyes and it was almost sad looking.
John didn't hesitate as he moved forward, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's body in a tight embrace. "Talk to me. Now. Obviously something is wrong." He placed a soft kiss on Sherlock's jaw and met his gaze. "That's what husbands do for each other." His smile was soft, knowing, and he took a step toward the bed with Sherlock still in his arms. "We can relax, talk, take a nap after our ordeal." He smirked.
Sherlock returned the hug, just as tightly. Once more he followed automatically and when they laid down, he curled into John immediately. He was quiet a long moment, his head laying on John's chest. "It's stupid really. That I even care what he says or think. I've wasted a lot my time trying to impress him or at the very least make him proud. But if Mycroft does anything then by all means he should win the Nobel Peace Prize." He couldn't help the bitterness in his voice. It was why he had chosen to live the life he did, to shut everyone out and shove everyone away. So, he wouldn't care what anyone thought or said but John had broken down his walls and defenses so easily.
John hummed appreciatively and rested his chin on top of Sherlock's head. "It isn't stupid, Sherlock. Kids always want to impress their parents and seeing one parent favor the other child is never nice. I love you and everything but your father is a dick. More of a dick than you, if that's possible. You don't need his approval." His hand ran lightly up and down Sherlock's side, his head tilting slightly to place a kiss on the crown of Sherlock's head.
Sherlock couldn't help but laugh and then gave a slight shrug. "Mum always favored me. Probably because dad favored Mycroft. I don't know. If my mother ever found out what happened tonight, the whole neighborhood would hear about it. She is the only person I know who isn't afraid to go toe to toe with dad and then still win. When I was really little, they got into bad. Dad shoved Mum and she fought back. It is the only physical altercation I've ever seen them get in."
What Sherlock was describing didn't sound like a childhood. It sounded horrid, not the way he would ever want anybody to grow up. "She sounds like a wonderful woman." John smiled softly. "Given your personality she must be perfect to deal with you and your brother." John's hand snuck smoothly into the waistband of his pants, his fingers pressing lightly against Sherlock's skin.
"More like because she put up with my dad," Sherlock muttered. He closed his eyes at the touch. It wasn't out of contentment though. He just didn't have the heart to tell John 'no' again and he realized now would be a perfect time to be the submissive. "You can have control, I still owe you." He wasn't really interested in the game but maybe it could distract him for awhile.
John seemed to instantly react to Sherlock's words. He titled Sherlock's head up with his free hand and kissed him gently. This was perfect. For weeks the stress had been handled with just his hand and now he had Sherlock, who he thought was completely willing to do this. "I love you," he whispered against Sherlock's lips. He grunted in disappointment at the size of the bed, a twin pressed directly against the wall. He shifted his body slightly, turning to his side the best he could and wedging one leg between Sherlock's.
Sherlock followed John's movements. He returned the kiss, eyes still closed so his fiancé couldn't see the trouble he felt. "Love you too." He murmured quietly. John seemed eager so he tried to shift so the other man could be on top, his legs spreading immediately and offering no resistance.
John tore away from the kiss with a growl, glancing between them as he moved so he could comfortably situate himself between Sherlock's legs. All he could think about was how stressed he was, how this would help, and failed to notice that Sherlock didn't seem to share his enthusiasm. His hands moved to Sherlock's shirt, unbuttoning it slowly and nipping at the skin as it was revealed. "You're beautiful," he whispered against Sherlock's skin, his hands wrapping around Sherlock's waist when his shirt was open.
Sherlock tried to concentrate on John's kisses and touches, to try and get himself as eager as the man on top of him. He just couldn't get there, there was no way he was going to be aroused enough to get the blood flowing and his penis hard. He opened his eyes to look down at John nipping at his chest. He thought about saying something to stop it, but his fiancé seemed content with the task. He laid his head back, eyes closing once more.
John glanced around the room for a moment, focused and determined, before frowning. There wasn't anything in this room that could be used to help them right now. His eyes turned back to Sherlock. Eyes closed, head back, hands still at his side. Somewhere in the fogginess of his arousal John realized that he was a bit uninterested but when his pressed against Sherlock and a moan escaped his mouth he forgot about any of his thoughts. "Jesus, yes." His hips thrust against Sherlock again and he buried his face into Sherlock's shoulder to hide another moan.
Even with John rocking against him, Sherlock couldn't get excited. He was too distracted with other thoughts. He was still thinking about the incident with his father. He had decided that he didn't want that man at the wedding. He became angry suddenly, and to release his frustration he began sucking on John's neck and scratching his back, completely forgetting he had given consent to his fiancé to being in control.
Scratches and teeth? When the Hell did Sherlock decide that this was being submissive? John let out a small shout and was relieved when it was muffled by the sheets and mattress below his mouth. "Fuck. Fuck." His hips snapped forward roughly, his pace faster than he would have liked. It was like he was a bloody teenager trying to get off before his parents caught them. He even still had his pants on. When did rutting against his fiancé become so damn pleasurable? He hissed against Sherlock's skin, pressing his neck against the other man's mouth without a second thought.
Sherlock gave some reprieve to the neck, when he began nibbling on John's ear aggressively. His hands trailed from the back to the other man's pants eagerly. In his haste he fumbled for a moment before they came undone. His lower body squirmed wildly with desperate need against John's.
John struggled to take a deep breath, lifting his head to glance between them. "Don't have anything," he managed between pants. "This w-will have to do." He reached between them and swiftly undid Sherlock's pants, reaching inside and instantly freezing. Sherlock wasn't hard at all. "You okay?" John asked as his hips snapped down involuntarily. This wasn't normal but he was having trouble stopping himself. Sherlock was usually just as eager as him.
It was then Sherlock realized that he was just plain pissed off and not the least bit horny. He growled out, "Can't..." Damn it. He shoved John away, a little harder than intended. He stumbled out of the bed, hastily redoing his pants, threw the door open and stalked out into the desert heat. He quickly found Mycroft. Perfect, his older brother had his back turned. He tapped the other man on the shoulder and when Mycroft turned around, Sherlock cold cocked him right in the face with his fist.