John placed his hand on Sherlock's chest and another on his shoulder, then whispered into Holmes's very ear "I want you, Sherlock. I want to kiss you and touch you as no one ever did. Feel your gorgeous body beneath mine. I want to hear you moaning and gasping my name while I'm slowly fucking you till we both drown in pleasure... oh god, Sherlock, let's spend tonight together."
The way John spoke sent shivers down Sherlock's spine. "I..." breathed the Detective, (he – of course – wanted all those things and he wanted them now! but there was no time for them at this moment – he had to do something first) "I can't."
Watson opened his mouth and wanted to say something, but Sherlock continued: "It is not that I don't want to. I want. God, I do!But I must be somewhere else this night."
"Why?" The Doctor wondered.
"A case," explained Sherlock and went on with secret rapture in his voice "It's an important thing, John. Lestrade is absolutely at his wit's end – as always – and I think... I know, that this night it will b–"
John sighted "You're really interested in this one, aren't you?"
"Yes."
The Doctor smiled at his keen flatmate "Then go..."
Sherlock's silver eyes became full of fondness as he looked at his brave little soldier and said "Thank you, John! I'll be back soon. Then we can..."
"Yes. Off you go."
A flash of black coat and blue scarf and Sherlock Holmes – The Consulting Detective – was gone.
John smiled for himself "It seems I am gay at last – although men have never attracted me... But I guess that Sherlock is completely different case after all."
Sherlock's case went good – as he was expecting – and soon it was over. The Detective was walking home. Quarter past twelve. Pall Mall. "Hm, I could make a visit," he thought.
. . .
"Good evening, Sherlock."
"Evening, Mycroft," grinned Holmes with pleasure of disturbing his brother at such a late hour.
"I suppose that it is not necessary to ask you why you are here, and at this time, because it evidently has to do with your flatmate," said the older brother and took a speck from Sherlock's jacket (a small piece of lint from John's sweater).
"Yes. You're right."
"I would say so."
"May I come in – unless you've got Gregory there? I think that's his hat there on the coat-stand."
"He forgot it here."
"About two hours ago?"
Mycroft nodded.
"You've landed him your umbrella I assume."
"I did."
"He went out to that rain without his hat didn't even notice it's raining and when he got back to take it, you gave him your umbrella. He took it with gratitude, and as he was so surprised by your mercy he stumbled over the coat-stand (a tinny splinter from it is lying on the floor) where he did forget it. Maybe it's because that new shoes he's got... The muddy footprints are all over your hall; I wouldn't expect you are that indolent to not wipe. Is he always so absent-minded when he's leaving?"
"Come in."
. . .
"So," said the older Holmes and seated himself in a costly armchair, "how does it going with your short friend?"
"Good."
Mycroft Holmes raised his left eyebrow and used a sly tone of his voice "Just good?"
"Very good I must say."
"Hm, so my little brother gets a Doctor. Isn't it great? Mummy will be immensely proud."
"Ha-ha." The irony in Sherlock's voice was absolute. "Like a Detective Inspector should be some kind of triumph."
Face of the older brother stiffened and with cold tone he said "I love him and he loves me. That's everything I want to know."
"So do I."
"Does it mean John's told you that he loves you?"
Sherlock made a tinny smile "No."
"But then I do not understand why–"
"He said he wants me."
"Oh." The older brother stood up from his seat. "Wait, I need a cake for this..."
"And," continued Sherlock as Mycroft get back with chocolate dessert, "I want him."
"Hm, I see..." Mycroft Holmes paused in thought and took a bit of whipped cream by his fork. "Then what are you doing here, Sherlock? Shouldn't you be with him right now?"
"Most likely: yes, I should. I should be with John. I just... you know... just wanted to... um... tell you and... you know."
"What a lovely speech." The man, who occupied a minor position in the British government, rose from his seat and approached the young Detective sitting in another armchair.
"I know," he said amiably, laying his right hand on Sherlock's shoulder, and continuing fatherly "as your older brother I give you my approval; Doctor John Watson is a good man – maybe you don't even deserve him, but it does not seem he's aware of it, so... here – you – go. (...) I hope that I do not have to discuss sex with you?"
"No. Heaven forbid! (...) But – thank you, Mycroft."
"You're welcome. And now go."
. . .
/ Back to Baker Street – 2:25 a.m. /
It took a while when Sherlock finally get back to the flat (even he had promised to John he would be back soon). You know, he is strange, remarkable, peculiar, extraordinary, and an amazing person, but still, even though he is scientist (and when scientists are interested in something, or just want to – or need to – know about something that caught their attention, they know nearly everything about it, and so did Mr. Holmes) he is a virgin too, and he needed a while for organized his thoughts (by sauntering slowly up and down the streets in cold, foggy night). It was therefore quite clear that he knew sex... as for its theoretical aspects, but what about the practical side? Well...
He took of his coat, the scarf, and on the way up to John's bedroom his jacket, trousers and that fantastic purple shirt which he carefully laid on the only chair in the room as he was there at once.
Then he slowly, carefully to not wake up his flatmate, got into the bed.
"You're late," came a drowsy voice from pillows.
"I thought you're sleeping."
"I am."
A gentle smile appeared on Sherlock's mouth and he snuggled up to John "I'm sorry."
"You should be," mumbled Watson. "I'm too sleepy now for have something with you. And especially when you're cold like the ice queen. So just... yhawwn – umm... just hold me and hope that my normothermia will be enough for us both."
"Okay," consented Sherlock and put his arms around John, softly whispering into his ear "You know, the morning sex, after all, is the best. For one is rested and fresh and–"
"Sherrrlooock! I know; I approve. But it won't work if you don't let me sleep now. Okay?"
"Fine."