John I'm bored. –SH
Joooohn. –SH
Will you answer me if I pretend to be in danger? –SH
Help I'm in danger John! Moriarty and…things. –SH
John. –SH
Oh what the bloody hell do you want?! It's 3:00 AM! –JW
I'm bored, John, we discussed this. –SH
John growled and tried to ignore the pinging of his phone, pulling his pillow over his head and attempting to go back to sleep.
I'm not wearing my sheet John, does that entice you? –SH
Not wearing pants either. –SH
…sometimes I feel like you aren't attracted to me. –SH
"John if you don't turn that ruddy contraption off I am throwing it away!" Mary sneered, elbowing him for about the eleventh time that night. John wanted to snap at her, but was too sleepy for another row and picked up his cell to cut it off….until he read those last messages.
Careful Sherlock. Mary is being particularly undesirable and if you push me too hard I might have to sneak out and make you wish you weren't so exposed. –JW
Sherlock, who was sitting cross-legged on the couch, fully clothed despite his text, became a little excited at this. Sherlock was of course, being Sherlock, one hundred and twenty percent a virgin, but he had decided after a long talk with Mycroft regarding the little incident with the sheet a few weeks ago that if it were going to happen to him at all, he wanted it to happen with John.
That was filthy John, do you kiss your mother with that mouth? –SH
That depends, are you my mother? –JW
And you say I'm disturbed. –SH
John had to fight the urge to laugh out loud at this, knowing Mary was on the verge of a breakdown. He sent one of the emoji's with the kiss face and the heart and quickly typed back.
I have to sleep now, we're making Mary angry. I love you. –JW
Prove it. –SH
"That does it. Who the hell are you texting that is so important?!" Mary yelled, sitting up in bed and turning on the bedside lamp.
"Hush, you'll wake Hamish!" John scolded quietly, holding his phone just out of Mary's reach, who was desperately trying to take it from him.
"Were you texting Sherlock? Be honest with me." John rolled his eyes.
"Yes, I was texting Sherlock, but I hardly see why that matters." Mary's eyes narrowed into slits and she once again made a lunge for his phone.
"You know I don't like you two spending so much time together! His relationship with you is not healthy!" This pissed John off, who slid out of the bed and fumbled around for his shoes.
"My relationship with my best friend is none of your business." He barely had his other shoe on before Mary was at his side, yelling in his ear.
"Do not make me compete with Sherlock, John! I won't be like the others, I won't do it!" The cry of a baby was suddenly heard down the hall way and John shot Mary a nasty look.
"Now you've done it, Mary, mother of the year, you are!" He grabbed a blanket and marched angrily to Hamish's room, bundling the baby up and taking him out to the car. Mary followed him outside and beat on the window as he revved the engine.
"What do you think you're doing?! This is kidnapping John!" She screamed, only sparking more anger in her husband as he backed out of the drive way.
"It's not kidnapping if he's my kid!" He shouted, taking off down the highway and trying to sooth the wailing baby in the back seat.
"It'll be okay, son. I'm taking you somewhere safer than the den of that old witch." He put on some Ed Sheeran in an effort to ebb his baby's cries and drove to his and Sherlock's flat in silence. He had never regretted marrying that woman more than he did right then. She never let him alone that one. Sherlock knew immediately who it was when there was a knock on the door, and he had already taken the liberty of removing his clothes, under the assumption that John had been unable to resist his attempt at sexting.
"Sherlock I'm going to kill―where the hell are your clothes?! I thought you were joking!" He asked in surprise, shielding little Hamish's eyes.
"Well I was at first but as the conversation went on I was under the impression that you were not." Sherlock stated awkwardly, looking down at the floor.
"Well, Mary woke Hamish up screaming at me for texting you…and then I decided to come over…I can't get him to go back to sleep." Sherlock extended his arms silently and John reluctantly handed the child over to him, figuring it wasn't like Hamish was old enough to be aware that his father's best friend was naked. Sherlock looked down at the little baby almost lovingly, which caught John off-guard.
"Like a space-age food pod made of magic, and dreams. I'm a happy man because I have you on my team…" Sherlock was murmuring this gently as he bounced Hamish in his arms and John almost wanted to cry.
"You actually listened to that stupid 'I love you like a burrito' song I sent you on your birthday…" Sherlock only smiled.
"No…" He lied, though the song did seem to be calming the little lad in his arms.
"Yes, yes you did. Enough times to have it memorized." This made John unexplainably happy, having just assumed that Sherlock dismissed the large majority of the things he did to try and make him happy. Sherlock would of course never admit to the joy he'd had when he received the birthday email from John. Yeah it was stupid, but Sherlock had cherished it anyway. It wasn't long before the child was gently snoring in Sherlock's arms, who smirked in victory.
"Shall we put him to bed? I don't have a cot, but I can stuff a bunch of soft blankets into the card board box from the DVD player in my room, turn it in to a sort of bassinet?" John nodded and went to go get the blankets from off the end of Sherlock's bed.
After making sure it was all soft and cushiony, they laid Hamish to sleep and watched him for a little bit, making sure he would be comfortable.
"He's nice, John. Looks a great deal like you." John chuckled quietly.
"Glad you approve." They caught each other's gazes, each subconsciously inching closer to one another. Sherlock was the first to make a move, capturing John's lips unashamedly and gently pulling at his hair. John backed him up against the bed and pushed him onto his back and into the soft duvet, climbing on top of the taller male. John, who was used to this sort of thing, ground into Sherlock roughly, who had to bite his lip hard in order to not reawaken Hamish. Judging from the way his body was reacting realization suddenly donned on John.
"Sherlock are you a…?" Sherlock nodded, unable to look John in the eyes.
"Quite possibly." John couldn't describe how adorable he found that to be, kissing Sherlock gently on the tip of his nose.
"Are you sure you want to do this then?" Sherlock sighed and gave a shrug of his shoulders, a small smile tugging at the corners of his bruised lips.
"Might as well try it, John, if I don't like it with you I won't like it at all." John laughed and nipped at Sherlock's neck.
"You're so stupid." He sucked hard on the porcelain flesh, Sherlock shuddering hard and fumbling with the hem of John's sweater, attempting to pull it over his head. It got a little stuck, but that was okay, Sherlock taking the opportunity to kiss down John's surprisingly muscled torso. John wiggled free from the jumper and slid down, coming face to face with Sherlock's erection. He placed soft kisses on it at first, wanting to take things slow for his lover, knowing this was a big deal for him. He locked eyes with Sherlock, as if asking for permission before he delicately enveloped his penis with his mouth. Sherlock fisted his bed sheets, an unfamiliar warmth spreading throughout his veins.
"J-John!" The deep moan that rang out from Sherlock went straight to John's lower regions, undoing his trousers quickly and yanking his pants down with them. Sherlock let out a small whimper of protest as John stopped and stuck two fingers in front of his face. Sherlock was of course confused, staring at his partner curiously.
"What are you doing, John?" John, who was becoming increasingly frustrated as his need for Sherlock grew, rolled his eyes.
"You're pretty dense for a detective sometimes you know?" Though he said it with utmost affection, and Sherlock knew that.
"Suck them." The bright amused smile that lit Sherlock's face was almost enough to push John over the edge then and there.
"For what purpose? Do you have a finger fetish, John?" John bent his head down, a bout of thunderous laughter erupting from his chest, nearly poking himself in the eye with Sherlock's massive package.
"Just do it, you'll see." Sherlock sucked the fingers into his mouth, making a thoughtful face as he tasted traces of left over jam from breakfast that morning. He sucked them for a few good moments before spitting them out forcefully, startling his smaller counterpart.
"Have you not washed your hands since this morning?" John sighed, trying so hard not to laugh again.
"They are clean, Sherlock. I don't even want to know why you asked." John placed his newly lubricated fingers at Sherlock's entrance, reaching with his other hand to thread his fingers with Sherlock's comfortingly.
"This may hurt." Sherlock stilled as he felt the intrusion, and John gently rubbed the inside of the taller one's thigh in comfort. After a little while he inserted the second finger, and then the third, moving and stretching them inside of his companion.
"Ah…ow." Sherlock winced, not sure he was going to enjoy this whole sex thing after all. John pulled his fingers out and spit on his penis, slicking it up good before lining it up with Sherlock's hole.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, John that's disgusting! I can't…you can't….just where do you think you're….no!" John shot Sherlock a look.
"I have to do it that way, Sherlock, I haven't got any lube and if we do it dry I could hurt you. Now quit being a drama queen, unless you just don't want to do this, which is perfectly fine, I just need to know." There was an element of fear in Sherlock's eyes that was surprising to John, though of course the detective would never admit it out loud.
"Do it. Please, I…I want you to do it." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself more so than John, but the doctor slowly eased in anyway, earning a painful groan from the other man. John kept very still, waiting for Sherlock's breathing to return to normal before he began to move. He stole a fierce, forceful kiss, an attempt at distracting his friend as he gradually picked up his pace. Sherlock moaned into John's mouth, wrapping his ridiculously long legs around him.
"Oh my god you swallow me." John laughed, tearing away from Sherlock's lips to leave a trail of hickies down his pale, lithe torso.
"Ugh…that's what she said." They both laughed, Sherlock taking the opportunity to softly nuzzle into John's neck, not expecting this to ever happen again.
"John?" Sherlock whispered, rocking his hips into John as the pain finally subsided. John's eyes rolled into the back of his head, the extra friction Sherlock's own thrusts were providing reducing him to a quivering pool of ecstasy.
"Mmm, yes?" Sherlock pulled John to where he was laying on top of him, Sherlock now doing most of the work, and held him tightly against his chest.
"I know how much it blinds ones judgment, and I know it's an emotion I've condemned in the past…but John I…you make my cardiovascular system swell with emotion." John snorted and ground hard into Sherlock, an orgasm building up in his groin.
"U-Ugh, you could just say I love you, you know." Sherlock's mind was swimming, his body was clenching and seizing up in the best way imaginable and his every sense was flooded with pleasure.
"Oh, oh, I….FUCK, JOHN, I…YES!" He screamed this with his arm in his mouth, biting down hard on it as to not awaken the sleeping baby still in the corner of the room. Both of their orgasms peaked and John's seed exploded inside of the detective, his own coating thick and hot all over John's chest. John pulled out and just sort of lay there, enjoying the warmth of Sherlock's body beneath his. He mulled Sherlock's reply over in his head, running his fingers through his obsidian curls.
"That's good enough for me." He whispered lovingly, kissing him chastely on the lips and threading their fingers together. There was a gentle wail now coming from the little makeshift bassinet and John rested his forehead against Sherlock's in a sigh.
"Sorry if I woke him." Sherlock apologized sheepishly, avoiding his partner's gaze.
"No you were pretty quiet for your first time. Baby's just do this, give me a second." John slid off of Sherlock and fetched a towel from the bathroom, cleaning himself up before picking up the sleepy child.
"There there, Hamish. Go back to sleep." Sherlock rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his elbow, gazing at the man he loved while he cuddled the small creation he so desperately wished was his.
"You should tell him you love him like a burrito. Works like a charm." John rolled his eyes.
"No, I think he just likes you." John admitted, looking at Sherlock flirtatiously from under his eyelashes.
"A bit like his father, that one." Sherlock teased, however the playfulness in his eyes faded into an almost sad look and John's eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"You okay?" Sherlock didn't say anything, but he didn't have too. John knew that look all too well, it was the look he gave him when he felt left out.
"You want me to leave her don't you? Leave Mary?" Sherlock looked uncomfortable, reaching out for Hamish, who was still crying. John handed the baby to his companion, and he instantly quieted at the sound of Sherlock's voice.
"That's not up to me, John. Are you happy with his woman?" John shook his head.
"No." Sherlock almost smiled, cradling Hamish closer to his chest.
"And what about here, were you happy here with me?" John was quiet for a bit, becoming a little sad that he even had to ask him that.
"Of course I was." John's voice cracked and Sherlock looked up in surprise, watching the crystal blue eyes he adored so fill with tears. Sherlock motioned for John to come sit with him on the bed, taking his hand and squeezing it softly.
"Then why not?" John looked from Sherlock's hopeful face to their intertwined fingers and then at his baby, who seemed to love Sherlock as much as he did. The three of them being together like that, that's what felt right, not raising Hamish in an unhappy home.
"Okay." John instantly knew he had made the right choice, Sherlock's face filling with more emotion than John had ever seen there before.
"Really?" John nodded, unable to keep a smile off of his face as his friend grinned and bent down, kissing Hamish gently on the head.
John ended up staying the night, sleeping curled up into Sherlock, who was terrified most of the night, not used to having so many feelings at that consistent of a rate. They woke up to Hamish once again crying his little lungs out, and John let out a small groan.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I know you aren't used to this." He shivered as he felt a sudden lack of warmth, Sherlock not hesitating to get out of bed and retrieve the child.
"Don't be sorry, he just wants to be held." Sherlock climbed back into bed and laid down, Hamish curling up contentedly on his chest. John wrapped his arms around the two of them, kissing the shell of Sherlock's ear.
"You're better with children than I thought you would be." Sherlock didn't say anything, only smiled, and thought to himself that babies were easier to deal with than adult people, their needs were so simple.
Back at Mary and John's place, Mary was pacing back and forth. She hadn't slept a wink all night and was anxiously waiting for her husband to bring their child home. She was pacing around their bedroom, glancing every now and then at the clock.
Its okay, Mary. She thought to herself. It's only ten AM, I'm sure he will be home soon.
She decided to make her and John's bed, distracting herself from the worry that was gnawing away at her. She didn't know where he had gone, but she did know that John was a decent father, and wherever he was that Hamish was safe. Her only major concern was that John may never come back, fear gripping her as she thought of all the times their marriage had been so close to ending in the short time that it existed. She was pulling the covers on John's side of the bed up when she noticed that in his hurry last night, John had left his phone behind.
Really should have a passcode you silly old thing. She thought, easily accessing his text messages to find out who and why he had been texting the previous night. Her mouth fell ajar, hands trembling, as particular words caught her eyes.
Sheet, entice, pants, attracted, exposed, filthy, kiss…love. Her hand cupped her mouth as she held in a cry, particularly hurt about the bit where John had called her undesirable. In a rage, she through her husband's phone against the bedroom wall, sinking to the floor and gasping for air as sobs ripped through her chest.
John and Sherlock were still lying in bed when Mary arrived at 221B Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson came cheerily to the door of the building, her bright smile wavering as she took notice of the distraught woman in her jammies gripping a mobile phone as if it were her life-line.
"I demand to see John Watson this instant." She spat, not allowing poor old Mrs. Hudson the time to warn the boys before she nearly plowed her down and kicked open the door to their flat. John and Sherlock were both awake, but had not moved, both watching over Hamish, who was still on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock was gently petting the baby's soft little face absentmindedly as he and John talked about a case Sherlock had recently taken.
"You ought to join me, John, it gets lonesome solving murders all by myself. It's not like Lestrade is going to appreciate the joy it all gives me and quietly, sarcastically chastise me for it. I miss that." John chuckled and buried his face tenderly into Sherlock's hair, only looking up when he felt the body beside him tense.
"Mary…" He muttered, shooting an alarmed look at the absolutely annoyed Sherlock.
"Yes, John, me, you know, you're wife. Or have you forgotten that, considering the amount of bloody filthy text messages you've been sending to your so called best friend! I put up with a lot, John, but this…this is sick." The malice in her voice made John blanch, and he reached for his pants, getting out of bed to face her.
"This isn't what it looks like, I can explain…" Sherlock, unable to bite his tongue, decided to pipe up.
"Tell her, John. Tell your lying, secretive, disillusioned, and frankly, freakishly cat obsessed wife exactly what it is that is going on here. I would like to know myself." His tone was clipped, and John couldn't tell if he was angry about Mary being there or angry that John hadn't come right out with it. Mary put her hands on her hips.
"Yes, do tell, why you were laying naked in bed with another man who is HOLDING OUR SON!" She shouted, Sherlock soothing away the jolt that seemed to half-awaken little Hamish.
"You really have no regard for the little life form you created, do you?" Sherlock quipped, earning a death glare from Mary and a sigh of resignation from John.
"Mary, I…darling, look at me." John took her face in his hands, attempting to be as gentle about this as possible. His life with her might not have been great, but he really didn't want to hurt her. Unfortunately for him, this didn't come across well to the other person in the room, who got out of bed almost emotionlessly and began to dress.
"Good luck, Hamish. You're going to need it." Sherlock handed the infant to John and stormed out of the room, the door to the apartment slamming behind him hard.
"Sherlock, no, wait!" John cried out desperately, though he knew he couldn't hear him. John turned to run out after him but Mary grabbed him by the arm.
"And just where do you think you're going?!" John's big ocean pools were full of pity, and he wished with all his heart he could have loved her half has much as she deserved.
"I'm so, so sorry. I don't love you…I don't think I ever did." That was all he said as he left her there, running out into the street in nothing but a red pair of pants, hoping Sherlock hadn't already hailed a taxi.
"People are definitely going to talk."