Exploring Sexuality

A/N: So sorry this took so long to update! I got stuck (plus I was actually kind of busy the past two days, shocker) and then was going to finish it last night, but fell asleep writing it…. Hope you enjoy this chapter, though :)

Warnings: Mentions of suicidal thoughts and substance abuse. If that's triggering for you, please don't read. It is relatively mild, however if you do chose to go ahead. (The substance abuse is really just implied, but I felt the need to add it to the warning..)

Also, sexy times are coming up ;)

Ch. 8

They had walked about half an hour as they talked, and passed another ten in a comfortable silence. "Are you going to tell me where we are going yet?" John asked for the second time, looking up at Sherlock.

Sherlock glared at John, though it wasn't sincere. "If I told you before we got there, would it still be a surprise?" he asked rhetorically.

John sighed and rolled his eyes, Sherlock's hand still tight in his. "What if I guess?"

"You are such a child."

Not actually an answer, so John smiled. "Are you taking me out to dinner? Because that would be lovely."

"No."

"I think it would; most people do eat a semi-regular three meals a day, Sherlock."

Sherlock scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Most people are boring, stupid. We're almost there."

So they walked in silence again for a couple more minutes, and Sherlock stopped them in the middle of Blackfriar's Bridge, over the Thames. "What are we-?" John started, but Sherlock shook his head.

"Listen, because you need to know this, and if I don't say it now, I may never tell you," he said urgently, to which John just nodded, letting him get whatever it was off his chest. Sherlock took a deep breath. "Before I met Lestrade, I was in a bad place. He pulled me out of it, with Mycroft's prompting, and gave me cases, gave me work to do, something to focus on. I came here a lot at night, when I couldn't sleep and needed to think, I was still doing that when I met you, though not as often. I was clean by then, had been for a couple months." Here he took another breath, looking out at the water and away from John. "You amazed me, John. You weren't normal, or boing. You gave my mind something to do as I tried to figure you out. You always put up with me, very rarely getting frustrated, and when you did it was mild compared to what I've dealt with before. I stopped coming here at night. You helped me through in a way Lestrade never could. You kept my feet on the bridge." When he finished, his voice was so quiet, John could barely hear him. Sherlock risked a glance at John's face, and knew he had been right to tell him.

John forgot that it was a no touching day and pulled Sherlock against him, hugging him tightly. Sherlock was tense at first, but slowly relaxed, wrapping his arms around John in return. "Does this mean you won your war?" John mumbled into his shoulder.

"No," Sherlock replied, shaking his head and breathing in John's familiar scent. "Just this battle."

John nodded and pulled back to look at Sherlock, interlocking their fingers and squeezing his hand tight as all of what he had just been told sank into his mind. "Can I ask you a question?" he asked quietly, not sure how far Sherlock was willing to take this conversation. But the other man nodded silently, looking intently down at John. "How long did you know Greg before you met me?"

"Almost two years," Sherlock replied instantly, as if he had read John's mind and knew what he was going to ask.

John's breath escaped him in a puffed out sigh. For almost two years Sherlock had contemplated stepping off this bridge. And then John had kept him from doing it. He closed his eyes and felt Sherlock's hand leave his own, only for both of them to cup John's face.

"Thank you," he breathed, pressing his lips to John's forehead in a lingering kiss. "What else?" Sherlock whispered. "What else do you want to know?"

"Can I kiss you?" John asked, staring up at Sherlock, still in a bit of shock. But again, Sherlock nodded silently, and John reached up on his toes to kiss Sherlock firmly, not caring who saw or if they stared. "I thought it was a no touch day?" he asked when he pulled back.

Sherlock shrugged, smiling a tiny bit. "I got over it. While you were at work. It'll come and go," he explained.

"In that case," John mumbled, kissing Sherlock again. He frowned a bit when the other man gently pushed him back. "What?" he asked softly, his brow scrunching in confusion and concern.

"Just… slow."

John nodded and pressed a light, closed-mouth kiss to Sherlock's lips, smiling a little when he pulled back this time. "It's okay," he assured.

Sherlock had a small smile on his face as he looked down at John. "I know it is," he replied honestly. With John everything was okay. "Do you still want me to take you out to dinner?"

John smiled, nodding, and dropped his hands from Sherlock's hips to take his hand again. "That would be nice, yeah," he agreed. "You should eat too."

Sherlock shrugged, holding John's hand tightly. "I ate yesterday."

"I ate this morning," John pointed out.

Sherlock huffed, turning them onto a different street, but not gracing John with a response, only squeezing his hand.

"How long were you in a bad place?" John asked quietly as they walked.

Sherlock seemed to think about it, his pace not slowing. "Since a couple months after I graduated from Uni."

John nodded, then decided he didn't want to think about it, looking around them instead. There weren't too many people on the streets, and some stared, but after having the limp for a while and chasing Sherlock around London after, he had long stopped caring what random strangers thought. Sherlock walked beside him in silence, presumably taking them to a restaurant around here.

A block or two from the bridge, Sherlock opened the door to a very fancy looking restaurant for him, making John raise an eyebrow. "You do realize neither of us are actually dressed to go to some place like this, yeah?" he asked as Sherlock ushered him in.

"But the food is amazing, and I saved the owner's sister's life," Sherlock replied nonchalantly.

John rolled his eyes and asked the obvious question; "And how did you do that?"

"Two, please," Sherlock told the man in front, who looked sort of skeptical about letting them in. "For Holmes. Send my apologies to Vincent for not making a reservation in advance," Sherlock added, to which the man nodded and promptly lead them to a little table out of the way of the general crowd. "Thank you." John looked at Sherlock expectantly, but the other man shook his head and tapped his menu. "Pick something first; Mycroft will pay," he assured.

"Will he, now?" John asked amusedly, opening the menu and looking it over.

"Yes, I think he will," Sherlock agreed, scanning the menu quickly, then putting it down to look at John like he had at Angelo's almost two weeks ago.

John let him stare for a minute or so before looking up to meet his gaze. "I cannot concentrate if you are mentally undressing me," he scolded, to which he earned an uncharacteristic blush from Sherlock as he looked down. John smiled a little and looked back down at his own menu, though he couldn't concentrate much better knowing Sherlock had been mentally undressing him. He had just been joking. And then that blush. Oh god.

John felt Sherlock kick him from under the table and looked up in surprise to see a waiter there, looking at him expectantly. "Right, sorry… Um, I'll have the braised pork loin, please," he said, picking something he definitely remembered seeing on the menu. "Water is fine."

The waiter wrote their order down and took their menus back, assuring them that their food would be out shortly.

"I did stop staring," Sherlock said once the waiter left, and John kicked him in return. "Do you still want to know?"

John tried to come up with what he had wanted to know, what Sherlock would be talking about, but he couldn't clear his head properly. "Know what?" he ended up asking.

"How I saved Vincent's sister's life," Sherlock replied calmly, watching him with some amusement.

"Oh, yes, of course," John agreed, nodding. He could focus on that, and not all the dirty thoughts that were now running through his head.

So Sherlock explained how he had been on a case only a couple months before he had met John. He listed all the details and the facts and the minor complications, including how he solved them, but John heard close to none of it. He heard the deep rumble of Sherlock's voice, but he couldn't bring himself to really concentrate on what the other was saying. He kept seeing that blush on Sherlock's cheeks in his head.

Sherlock tapped John's foot with his own, not really a kick like before, just something to get his attention. "You aren't listening," Sherlock accused, watching John curiously.

John jumped a little when Sherlock nudged him, and he blinked a couple of times, looking at Sherlock. "Not really, no, sorry," he admitted, looking down at his glass and feeling a faint blush tinge his own cheeks, feeling Sherlock's eyes on him.

Sherlock stared silently at John for what felt like a very long while, thought it couldn't have been more than three minutes, at most. "John?" he asked, waiting until John looked up to continue. "I want to fuck you when we get home," he said, his voice quiet and level, his gaze intent on John's face.

John was pretty sure his mouth had dropped as he stared at Sherlock, wide-eyed. "I've never…." He stammered, trailing off.

"That's okay." Better, really, Sherlock thought to himself. "I can teach you."

John scoffed and looked almost offended, but also rather timid, as he rolled his eyes. "You don't have to teach me," he retorted. "I know how it works. I've just never…" he trailed off again.

"Been with a man," Sherlock supplied helpfully, to which John nodded mutely. "I'll go slow," he promised. "We… we don't have to tonight, I just thought…"

"No, you were right," John assured, clearing his throat. As usual. "You were right, I just… wasn't expecting to hear it come out of your mouth. I want to."

Now Sherlock stared at John, a small smile on his lips. "Tonight?" he asked, mainly to assure that John knew what he was agreeing to.

But John nodded, holding Sherlock's gaze. "Tonight," he repeated, his head spinning a bit.

Sherlock seemed to sense John's uneasiness and sighed a little. "We do not have to," he assured, to which John shook his head again.

"I want to," John insisted, and though he was a little hesitant, it was completely true. He wanted to share that experience with Sherlock, wanted to be with him that way.

Sherlock nodded, not one to ask twice. "Okay," he said, smiling reassuringly at John, wanting to make sure he felt comfortable, not wanting to push. He needed to know. It had been a long time since he was so attracted to someone in such a way, and he felt weak for not being able to control his own body's urges, but he also knew John would understand. John always understood.

Their food arrived a couple minutes later, and as Sherlock had said, it was amazing. And expensive. Sherlock paid with Mycroft's credit card.

"Why do you even have that?" John asked as they left, Sherlock's hand tight in his own.

"For emergencies," Sherlock replied casually, a devilish smile on his face as he shrugged. "You are always telling me food is so important, so I am sure my dear brother will be happy to pay the bill."

John shook his head with a disapproving chuckle. "I am sure he will be delighted," he agreed, squeezing Sherlock's hand as he hailed a cab. Sherlock gave the driver their address as John slipped in beside him, their hands still connected. "This was a date," John said with a smile, looking at Sherlock. "A real one."

"It's not over yet," Sherlock reminded him with a small smile of his own. Sherlock smiled more often now, John had noticed, and he liked it.

"No, it is not," John agreed, butterflies in his stomach like he was a teenager. He was going to go home and have sex with Sherlock. Sherlock was going to top him. And John wanted him to.

The cab ride was relatively short, and they passed most of it in a comfortable silence. Sherlock paid the cabby this time before leading John back into their flat. He took off his coat, then looked at John. "Stay here," he instructed.

John raised a skeptical eyebrow but nodded, taking his own jacket off. "Alright," he agreed, watching Sherlock dash into his room. He heard what must have been Sherlock trying to tidy up a bit, then silence for a while before the man came back out, smiling and holding his hand out to John.

"Come here," he said, taking John's hand and walking him half way down the short hallway to his room. "Now close your eyes."

John looked at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow before complying, feeling Sherlock's hands cover his eyes once they were closed. "I wasn't peaking," he felt compelled to defend himself.

"I don't care," came the reply as he was slowly led the rest of the way down the hall and turned into Sherlock's room. He heard Sherlock close the door behind them and his hands dropped from John's eyes to his hips. "Open your eyes."

A/N: Again, sorry this took so long to get up. Evil cliff-hanger hehehe

On the up side, the next chapter should come out relatively at the normal speed again.