Author's Note:
No love for Mycroft, huh? Here is some Johnlock to help make you feel better. Thank you for the reviews! I love when I open my e-mail and I have all these alerts in my inbox. I'm going to do a little shameless promotion, okay? I have another collaborative fanfic that I have posted called 'Collateral Damage' up. It isn't Johnlock but the story is one of the most in canon things I have ever written and I am rather proud of it. So yeah, you should check that out...you know...if you want...
John grunted from the impact of hands against his body, landing on his back on the ground with a groan of pain. "Sherlo-" He took a deep breath and struggling to stand up, quickly buttoning his pants and making sure his shirt was pulled down before following Sherlock. That was when he saw it.
Mycroft turned and before he even had a moment to recognize his younger brother he had hit the ground, out cold.
"Sherlock!" John rushed forward, dropping to his knees next to the older Holmes and placing a gentle hand on his cheek. "The fuck, Sherlock?" His eyes darted up and he studied his fiancé. This wasn't normal. This wasn't supposed to be happening. "Mycroft?" He looked down at the man on the ground who had stirred slightly. "Mycroft, can you hear me?"
After the punch connected Sherlock shook his hand, wiggling his fingers experimentally. They were a bit bruised but not busted. "It's all his fault." He grumbled, as if that explained everything. He still didn't feel better after venting his frustration on the only person around who even vaguely deserved it. "Need to go for a walk..." He muttered and then began walking away. He didn't care it was the middle of the desert with possible hostiles around. He wasn't thinking very clearly right now anyway.
John had barely heard Sherlock and the moment he did he was on his feet, shouting for another soldier to make sure Mycroft was alright. He darted to Hollman, who was wearing a knowing smirk, and snatched his armor and helmet with a "Shove it."
John ran as he slipped it all on, grabbing extra body armor as he sprinted out off the base. "Sherlock! Come here." He stopped beside Sherlock, falling in step with him and grabbing his hand. It was then he decided to pull the best card he knew. "What should we name her?" He gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze.
For a moment Sherlock almost pulled his hand away, but the question had completely surprised him and he ended up squeezing John's hand back faintly. He was still angry but the question did make him pause and think of answer. "I don't know," he said after awhile. "Sara sent a letter to me with the sonogram. She said if you have suggestions to mail her a letter. Her address is on the back of the sonogram. Are you still going to want to have a honeymoon? The baby will be born by the time you get back."
"Of course I still want a honeymoon," John stated the information like it was obvious. "Sarah can handle her for a few days, I'm sure." The little girl who he had just found out about was already wiggling her way into his heart. Just the thought of her made him smile softly and his heart rate increase. "Are you going to go see her, then? When she's born before I'm back?" He studied his fiancé for a long moment. "I want you in her life." He knew they were avoiding a serious issue bit John figured getting Sherlock's mind off of his troubling thoughts might be best for now.
Taking a stroll through a desert, where one might end up shot or worse wasn't the ideal situation. However, Sherlock found it strangely calming. He walked hand in hand John, listening quietly and thought for a moment before replying. "Yes. I had planned to be there the day she was born, so I could take a picture and text it to you. As long as it was okay with you and Sarah too I guess." Really, he didn't care if Sarah would mind or not. It was then he realized that the woman would be in their lives forever now, a constant reminder of John's infidelity. Sherlock couldn't help but wonder if someday he would hold that against the army doctor's daughter in some kind of childish fit. Probably. He sighed at his thoughts and even though the body armor made it uncomfortable, he leaned his head onto John's shoulder.
The moment he felt pressure on his shoulder he stopped walking, turning and wrapping his arms around Sherlock. "She won't mind at all," he whispered into Sherlock's ear. He dropped the extra set of armor with a sigh. "Sherlock Holmes, you are a brilliant and beautiful man. Don't let anybody tell you different or ever bring you down. You deserve so much more, but I will do my best to make you as happy as possible for the rest of my life." His eyes closed for a long moment, his hands rubbing up and down Sherlock's spine. "And my daughter will view you as a father and I'm sure you'll be the best Dad."
Without a second's hesitation, Sherlock returned the hug. He didn't say anything for a long time. He just clung to John tightly, lost in thought. He hated that after all these years that his dad could still get under his skin. He thought he had outgrown it. He had thought wrong. He tried to push the thoughts from his mind, so he finally spoke. "Do you think she'll like me? I don't really have experience dealing with kids."
"Of course she'll like you." John laughed slightly and gave Sherlock a squeeze. "She won't really have a choice. Besides, I've got a feeling that once she's here you will be comfortable with her. They say parents usually are." He turned his head and placed a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. He wouldn't tell Sherlock but he was more nervous than he had ever been. This wasn't just babysitting or seeing somebody else's child for a few hours. This child was his. A lifetime responsibility. "You'll be fine."
Parent? Him? Technically he wouldn't be? Sherlock frowned in thought. He supposed while John's daughter was there, he would take on some parent-like responsibilities. Why hadn't he realized that before? Sometimes his work involved dangerous things. Would he be able to do experiments in the flat anymore? Good God, not just John's life was changing but his too. He couldn't ever imagine not being the only consulting detective in the world. It was his livelihood…his legacy…it was a part of him. Maybe he would set up something boring like an office, to keep work and home separate. Yes that could work… Sherlock blinked as his thoughts finally trailed off and then a smirk formed on his lips as he looked down at John. "So, we are out here all alone…maybe we should take advantage of that?"
Watching Sherlock think made John smile and at his comment he glanced around. "We could. We really could. I... I don't have anything with me but," his hands traveled to the front of Sherlock's pants slowly, an eyebrow arching under his helmet. "I've got my mouth though. And I'm sure one of your fantasies must be a soldier I'm uniform sucking you off." He gently met Sherlock's lips.
Fantasy? He had never actually had one of those. Sherlock's thoughts don't get very far and he returned the kiss. With a little effort, he maneuvered a hand under John's shirt and body armor so his fingers could trail down his fiancé's skin. He broke the kiss and began lightly nibbling on John's neck, his body pressing against the man in front of his tightly.
Sherlock's hand was cooler than John's skin and he instantly shivered at the touch. "Ah, fuck." He tilted his head to expose more of his neck. "Camp?" He asked in a moan. God, he wanted Sherlock and everything they would need was in his bag. "Christ, Sherlock, I need you." He forced his hand into Sherlock's pants, grabbing his penis and giving it a squeeze. "Camp. Now."
Sherlock reacted to the hand on his penis immediately, his knees buckling a bit and his body slumping into John's for support. His cock on the other hand, grew firm. "Don't want to wait. Here. Now." He muttered into John's neck, sucking on it roughly now. His fingers began scratching, his hips thrusting with a slight rhythm into the other man.
John opened his mouth to argue, to demand they go back to the camp, but the movement of Sherlock's hips was enough to stop him. Sherlock wanted this and John wanted nothing more than to make him happy. He braced his body to help support Sherlock. "Tell me what you want, Sherlock," John stated with a slight smirk. His hand slowed and loosened on Sherlock's cock. They were alone and had a very little chance of being interrupted. John was going to take advantage of it.
With his free hand, Sherlock grabbed John by the collar of the body armor and pulled the other man down on top of him as he laid down in the sand. He found John's ear and growled into it, "I already told you. Now shut up and get to it." Okay, so maybe he was being a little more aggressive than usual but they often fought for control and he wanted to assert his authority early on. Or perhaps it was the residual anger he still felt from earlier. Either way, he began to buck against John roughly and impatiently, losing the rhythm he'd, had before.
Had Sherlock said what he wanted earlier? John had missed it, he was too focused on everything. And now he was on top of Sherlock. He was struggling to keep up. Except now he wanted to play games. Sure, Sherlock had clearly asserted his dominance this time around but John wasn't just going to take it. "Tell me again," John snapped as he pulled his helmet off and tossed it aside. His hand darted to the straps on the side of his body armor, undoing them with practiced ease before pulling it off with a small sigh. "Do you want me below you, Sherlock? Do you want to fuck me with your clothes still on?" His hips pressed slowly into the body below him, his lips holding a cocky smirk.
Usually, Sherlock was all for the games. However, now was not one of those times. "Shut up," he growled again. He grabbed John's shirt this time, and rolled them over so he could be on top. He leaned down and began biting the army doctor's neck. He blindly reached down and began undoing his pants. He was already breathing heavily, but he used his nose for air as he continued to mark the man below him. The thrusts of his lower torso began having a trace of rhythm.
"Fuck, yes." John arched up into Sherlock, wrapping his legs around the other man eagerly. It had never occurred to him that he liked this rough. Before Sherlock it had always been slow, soft, nothing more than whispers and soft kisses. Now it was biting, marking, shouts, things he would feel in the morning. He couldn't imagine sex any different now. "Christ, y-yes." He lifted his hips to meet Sherlock's thrusts the best he could, turning his head to nip at Sherlock's ear. With each of Sherlock's thrusts and let out a small gasp of air, moving his hands to claw at Sherlock's shoulder blades through his shirt. "Fucking beautiful."
Once his pants were undone, Sherlock wiggled his hips so they would slide down to his knees. He wasted no time sliding his underwear off as well. He next worked on John's pants, as he continued to kiss the army doctor eagerly. Satisfied with the rather large mark on his fiancé's neck he moved his lips to John's and with his tongue parted the other man's lips to eagerly explore the mouth beyond. Sherlock finally got John's pants open and he pulled them down as well. He broke the kiss and leaned his head to his fiancé's ear. "Better hold on tight. Might hurt." He was eager sure, but he figured he should probably give John a heads up. A curtsey he hadn't given back at the hotel when they were on the floor.
John took several deep breaths, placing his hands on Sherlock's chest. "H-hold on." He reached out the best he could, his fingers hooking around a side-strap of his armor and tugging it toward them. "I love you, I really do." He looked desperately in all the pockets on the left side of the vest, "But you are preparing me. Period. I can't just walk back to camp after you dry fucked me, you git." He rotated at his waist and flipped the vest over. "I've got Vaseline in my vest to protect my skin," he muttered, fumbling when he finally found it. It was a small package and he visibly winced. "At least prepare me and put some on your dick, will you?" He thrust it against Sherlock's chest, his eyes narrowed and determined.
With a mutter Sherlock did as asked. He didn't want to wait any longer than he had to, however he supposed John was right. He dipped his fingers into the Vaseline and applied it his penis and around his fiancé's entry. He could hardly stand it any longer and he eagerly slid his cock in, starting a fast but steady pace. He placed his hands on John's shoulders for some support, fingers digging in a bit.
In the middle of the desert John figured he didn't have to hold anything back. The moment Sherlock entered him he threw his head back, shouting. Christ, it shouldn't be so hot to just lay on his back and take it but, really, it was perfect. "Shit, off." He shifted his left shoulder, moving his right hand to shove Sherlock's hand off of his scarred shoulder. "Don't stop, fuck." He swiftly moved his hand to Sherlock's hair, roughly pulling the man's head down to meet his lips. "Harder," he nipped at Sherlock's bottom lip and glanced between them, biting his bottom lip as he let out a groan. His free hand scratched at Sherlock's back, his feet digging into Sherlock's lower back.
Sherlock muttered an apology and moved his left hand so it rested above John's shoulder, in the hot desert sand. He lasted longer than he thought he would, keeping the pace steady but quick. After several thrusts he came and he collapsed slightly to onside into the grainy dust. He panted for breath for a few seconds before shifting so he could give John a blow job. His mouth enveloped his fiancé's cock and he began to bob his head in steady rhythm.
It happened so fast that John barely had time to realize that Sherlock's mouth was on him, that he'd already finished. His hips snapped up and he attempted to apologize when he felt Sherlock's nose against his stomach. It wouldn't do any good to fuck the other man's mouth, it would probably be the last time Sherlock sucked him off if he kept that up. "God, your mouth is wonderful." He squeezed the hand in Sherlock's hair as his body tensed, coming with Sherlock's name on his lips. "Ah, yes, God yes." He tugged at Sherlock's hair gently, his stomach tense as he tried to catch his breath. Honestly, it'd been quick but now he could say he'd had sex in the middle of the Afghan desert. Always a plus in his book. "I love you. I love you so much."
Once John came he swallowed and then removed his mouth from the penis. Sherlock licked his lips and then moved so he could snuggle into his dear doctor and said, "I love you too." He laid flat on his back, a hand behind his head and his nestled into John's shoulder. He was staring up at the clear night sky. He could see the stars so clearly here, something that couldn't be done back in London. When had the sun set? He hadn't noticed the change in time until now. He shrugged it off and rolled to nuzzle into John's, his head now resting on the army doctor's chest. His unwanted thoughts from earlier came to mind and he spoke them out loud to John, "I don't want him at the wedding…" He trailed off quietly, fingers trailing lightly along his fiancé's side.
John moved his head slightly, wrapping his arm protectively around Sherlock's shoulder. "Who? Your Dad?" Really, it could have been Mycroft as well. Sherlock had punched the older Holmes brother right in the face, something he never thought he would see. "That's fine, Sherlock. It's our wedding. And personally," he smiled a bit, "I don't want him there much either." His lips pressed against the crown of Sherlock's head, lingering as he took a breath, memorizing what Sherlock smelled like. "Are you upset about it? The fight? I know you said that was actually better than most encounters but... it bugged you, yeah? That's why we just fucked like rabbits in the middle of the desert?" His eyes lifted to the sky with a weak smile and he tilted his head back to view more of the stars.
"Yeah. I get the need to relieve stress now, I guess. I don't want him there, John. Not after the way he spoke to you. He has always been a bully. Used to getting his way. Saying and doing whatever he wants to those around. I won't let him treat you like that. It's not okay." Sherlock gave John a hug, as tight as he could from his perpendicular position.
For a moment, an extremely irrational moment, John wanted to remove any bad experiences from Sherlock's childhood. He wanted to get rid of anything horrid his father had ever done to him. "You're perfect," he whispered as Sherlock's embrace tightened. "You are brilliant and wonderful and I don't know what I would do if I ever lost you." His free hand reached across his body and settled at the base of Sherlock's skull, pressing his face tighter against the other man's chest. "So much better than he will ever be."
Sherlock was silent a long moment as he continued to cling to John tightly. A jarring thought came to mind. "If I hadn't met you, I would have probably ended up just like him, minus the family part. I did meet you, I've changed and now I'm going to end up with a family." Wow, life had funny way turning out sometimes. "We always talk about me and my family. What about yours? You've never really mentioned them other than Harry and you rarely speak of her."
For a moment John smiled, the thought of having a family with Sherlock causing his gut to twist. And then he asked about his family. It was expected, really. John couldn't hide it forever. "Dad died when I was fifteen. Heart attack. Mum died during my first tour in Iraq, so... oh-four, I think. November of 2004." He cleared his throat and exhaled loudly through his nose. "Harry and I were close through our childhood. I picked on her an all that but we were kids. We stopped talking when I refused to come home for Mum's funeral." It was painful to admit and he had never told anybody. "So, really, you're my family. I like it that way."
Sherlock frowned a bit as John spoke. He would have said 'I'm sorry' but that seemed a little too trite. He gave another tight hug instead. Well, that explained Harry's drinking problem but he kept that to himself as well. "Why did you join the army? I mean it's obvious you love the thrill but before that, what drew you to a life of military?" He shifted a bit, trying to get comfortable in the sand and failing. It was itchy and kept sticking to the parts of his body where his skin was exposed.
God. Oh God. This was information that his fiancé shouldn't be learning about. Too bad his mouth moved before he had a chance to stop himself from speaking. "Jenny. Uh, Jenny Worthing. We had been seeing each other for three years when I enlisted. She was pregnant. We needed money." John paused and let his embrace tighten around Sherlock. "She lost the child while I was training. We were still considering marriage, kept that up through my first deployment. I was different when I came back and she couldn't handle it. Up and left one morning." He shrugged and glanced at Sherlock. "And I've never told anybody that."
Her loss, his gain. Sherlock honestly couldn't fathom how anyone could ever leave John and the thought of a life without his dear doctor was too terrible to even contemplate. "Is that why you told me before that you didn't want a family? You were worried you would lose it again? To be honest, I wasn't sure how you would feel about Sarah being pregnant. You had seemed so disinterested in kids when we discussed back in that private hospital. Did you become a doctor before or during your services?" He couldn't help all the questions, being a curious man by nature and all. Well, he supposed he could have deduced it all out himself if had wanted to but John had said on more than one occasions that couples were supposed to talk to each other about things.
All of the questions were... endearing? John figured that Sherlock should know this. They were getting married, after all. "I don't know." He shrugged and tore his eyes away from the stars to meet Sherlock's gaze. "I thought that after Jenny I just wasn't meant to be a Dad. Like... there was a reason I hadn't met the right woman and that Jenny had lost the child." His voice seemed far-off and disconnected, lost in his memories. He smiled at Sherlock. "I got my training at Uni. While I do have medical experience I'm more of a medic right now than a doctor. I fight, I've got a gun. I'm only used when it's really necessary." He placed a kiss on top of Sherlock's head, his lips curled in a smile. "I'm nervous about the kid. I'm not the sort of man that's supposed to be a Dad."
As Sherlock listened quietly, he took hold of John's hand and intertwined their fingers in a light squeeze. "You will be a great Dad. Have you thought about a name you like?" Really, he was nervous himself. Maybe he should read some books on babies and being a father to prepare himself. John had said he would want the little girl in his life, so in a way that would make him a dad too. As an adult and even growing up, he had little to no interaction with children.
John returned the squeeze with his hand and twisted his mouth to the side. "I have a bit, yeah. I like Stephanie. Maybe Melanie. Amy, even." Thinking of a name was tough. He didn't want to stick the poor girl with a name she wouldn't like. "Have you? Any ideas? Of course we'll have to run them by Sarah. I'm sure she has a few." His gaze locked on Sherlock's eyes and he bent his neck to gently kiss him.
"As I'm sure you've noticed the Holmes family doesn't have a predilection for naming children what most people would consider 'normal' so I'm probably not the best person to ask." Sherlock replied with a small smile. He thought for moment and then said, "Sandoval? We can call her Sandi?" He tilted his head up so he could look at John's face to see what his fiancé thought about the name he had just picked at random.
Wait... "What?" Was the man pressed up against his side his future husband, one for oddly compelling names? "Sandoval?" He furrowed his eyebrows and bit his bottom lip. "Sandoval Watson." There was a small nod of his head and he glanced down at his fiancé. "Run it by Sarah and see what she thinks. If she isn't too keen it could always be her middle name." He smiled warmly. After shifting his body slightly he realized that his pants were down at his ankles. "Are you going to maybe drop by Sarah's to see her? Y'know, get to know her and hold her."
Sherlock was rather pleased that John liked the name he had picked out. He couldn't help it when his body tensed at as Sarah's name. It had the same effect on him that a swear word would on an overzealous religious person. He forced himself to relax and he took a calming breath before speaking, "I was supposed to see her tonight in London. I guess she wants to talk to me, what about I'm not entirely sure but I have a few theories."
John felt it. Sherlock tensed the moment he heard Sarah's name. It was small but John had felt it and frowned slightly. His fiancé was going to have to get used to her name because Sarah was going to be around the flat a lot, no doubt about it. "I'm sure she wanted to talk to you about... everything. I mean, we're getting married but she is going to be part of our life now. Permanently. And by now I'm sure she is showing and you can feel the baby move." He frowned even more. He was going to miss all of that. Talking to Sarah's stomach like a typical father, rubbing it and feeling the child move. He was missing the birth of his first child. His body tensed at the thoughts but he managed to catch himself and covered it the best he could by pulling Sherlock closer. "Will you see her tomorrow? Please? Maybe send me a picture?"
It was inevitable, he supposed, that he would be seeing a lot of Sarah. A constant reminder to Sherlock of when he had caught John with her in bed. It had have been easier to get over it, if she could be cut from their lives completely. That wasn't going to happen now. He closed his eyes in thought. He had told himself time and again he was over it. Had even forgiven John, and was able trust him again. He realized it bothered him so much because he associated her with the tumultuous emotions that had come the night he had found them. Sherlock had been so lost in thought he had almost missed the questions. Tomorrow? Picture? "Yes, I suppose so." He murmured finally, in answer to both questions.
It was clear that they were both lost in thought. Sherlock was good at hiding it all but John knew. John always knew. "Suppose so? That's a bit dodgy. I would prefer 'yes,'" he joked softly. His hand drifted into Sherlock's hair, tugging his head back gently to meet his lips. "Talk to me. I can see you thinking. This is bugging you, isn't it?" His eyes were soft, understanding and his voice was low. "Please. There can't be any secrets, Sherlock, or this won't work."
Sherlock met John's lips briefly and then shrugged. "I guess. John, thinking of her makes me remember everything I was feeling when I caught you two that night. I would just assume delete the memory from my brain altogether." He fell quiet once more, reflecting a bit before speaking once more. "I'll make the effort to be civil. I doubt however, I will ever like the idea of her being in our lives."
Oh. This child, this thing that John was slowly starting to view as a blessing, was something Sherlock saw as nothing more than a reminder that his fiancé had been unfaithful. John felt guilt rush through his body. "I'm sorry." His voice cracked and he tried to cool the simmering anger he felt in his gut. "Please don't hate her. She... She'll be like your daughter, Sherlock. I want her to be, at least." He let his eyes fall close, his heading dropping to the desert ground with a thud.