Thankyou for your comments. You have been good, so as promised I'm posting tonight.
Hope you enjoy.
Belong - Part three.
"cos she wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts, she's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers. Waiting for the day when you wake up and find that what your looking for has been here the whole time"
Sherlock had finally slunk off to his room around 3.30 in the morning, coming to the logical conclusion that John was not coming back, nor could the doctor hear his song. Sleep did not come easy, but then it never did these days. When he finally slept the dreams came. Something about John. Something about the kitchen. John fully clothed apart from where his jeans and pants had been ripped down to his knees. Sherlock pressed tightly against John who was leaning over the sink, his hands gripping onto the taps tightly while Sherlocks hands gripped at his hips roughly. He smelt of sex, of desire and he was groaning deliciously in his throat as Sherlock dug his nails into that tender skin, bruising, gripping, claiming. His teeth on Johns ear as he thrust his cock deep into Johns arse. Sherlock shagging John Watson into oblivion.
Oh God John, yes.
John calling his name, loud, louder. Begging him, wanting him, grinding against him, asking him for more.
Oh yes John yes... John shouting louder and louder and...
"Sherlock! Why the fuck is there a head in the WASHING machine?" Sherlock woke with a start. Blinked twice at the brightness of the morning. John..? Where was..?
"Sherlock! Wake up and explain to me why there's a head in the washing machine!" there was a furious knocking at the detectives bedroom door. Sherlock shook his head and the dream away with a groan. Damn. He'd forgotten about the head.
Rolling out of bed he quickly pulled his robe on and slunk somewhat guiltily out into the living room. John had that irate look in his eyes. He was pacing, obviously not long in. Probably nipped home from Sarah's to change before he went to work. Swinging about he glared furiously at the still sleepy Sherlock. Bit not good. Sherlock waited for the verbal onslaught. The doctor opened his mouth to say something but the words seemed to catch in his throat as his eyes swept the detectives thin frame. Then his eyebrows raised, but not in question, in surprise. He stuttered and then blushed. All the fight, all the anger visibly drained out of him. All he could do for a moment was stare and then he turned away quickly. Sherlock paused, puzzled by the doctors reaction.
"John?" he questioned. The doctor threw him a look from over his shoulder. Sherlock followed Johns very quick gaze down from his face to his crotch.
Oh.
Sherlock blinked twice. He had an erection. That hadn't happened for a long time. God, that dream... Ah.
Completely unabashed Sherlock pottered over to the sofa and lay down. "Sorry about the head." he yawned "experiment. Was reading about the shrinking heads, had an idea. No clue if it worked. Forgot it was in there. Did it work John?" John turned, averting his eyes uncomfortably.
"Sherlock.. You are aware that you have.." he paused, Sherlock quirked an eyebrow in pretend innocence. He'd make John say it. It would be a suitable punishment for him trotting off so merrily last night. John cleared his throat. "you do realize you have.. um.. an erection Sherlock?" Sherlock filed the sound and expressions of Johns voice away for later study and grinned lazily. He glanced down.
"It would appear so John. Surprising though. I haven't woken up like this since I passed through puberty. Does it bother you?" Johns eyebrows raised again.
"does it bother me...?" there was a slightly hysterical tilt to Johns tone which Sherlock couldn't decide to be from humor or stress "Well now I come to think about it.. Yes it does really!" Sherlock stretched and made a non-committal noise.
"well, you did wake me up John. These things happen. A chemical reaction, subconscious stimulus..." the detective trailed off, cheerfully watching John blush at the low seductive note he ended on.
Want.
The doctor scrubbed a hand through the hair at the back of his neck and rolled his eyes despairingly.
"Fucking sociopaths.." he mumbled. Sherlock sat up.
"What do you want me to say John? I'm not bothered, I don't know why you're getting so flustered by this."
"fluster.. God Sherlock just go take care of it!" Sherlock grinned
"here?" the noise that left Johns throat was so comical the detective found he couldn't help but laugh... In fact he couldn't sit up he was laughing so hard. And then, after a moments glaring, John was laughing too and making tea and swearing that one day Sherlock would be the death of him. But as Sherlock watched John bend over the sink to fill the kettle he found that maybe it would take more than his own hand, or three patches, to take care of this problem.