Author's note: As if you hadn't already guessed from the blatant foreshadowing, this chapter is smut. That's right. You can all let go of your breath, the M rating is now relevant. Yes the cursing technically counts but honestly you would be disappointed if the only thing they did was curse. Anyway.
The pair clambered into a cab, both of them practically resonating with tension.
John kept his eyes firmly trained out of the window in an attempt to keep himself under control.
Sherlock, on the other hand, kept stealing fervent glances at the doctor, his finger's twitching with the desire to touch.
"You know," Sherlock purred, the deep baritone sending shivers down the former doctor's spine. "It's been so very long since the last time you sunk yourself to the hilt into me."
The blatant dirty talk was not something that John remembered Sherlock being fond of.
Not that he was opposed to it.
Truly, the detective's voice was sinful of its own right.
John had managed to get hard listening to him drone on about bees.
But mix in the delicious content that he was spouting now?
"Sherlock I swear if you keep that up I'll be spent before we make it to the flat."
The detective smirked.
"Oh you are underestimating yourself my dear Watson."
He drew out each syllable, his smirk curling into a grin.
John writhed in his seat, refusing to look at the detective, his breathing growing ragged.
"Do you know what I'm going to do to you John? What I've been fantasizing about doing for three years?"
John practically whispered, so far removed was he from his ability to speak.
Sherlock leaned over his lips a hairs breadth from the former doctor's ear.
"You are going to fuck me over and over until I scream."
The car jolted to a stop, with the cabby grunting "Baker Street" from the front.
John scrambled out of the car, tripping over his shoes in his scramble fr the door.
Sherlock's rumbling laugh followed him as the detective quickly paid for the ride and strode over to pick up his blogger.
"Eager, are we?"
The detective helped John back to his feet, grinning as the man groaned.
"This is your fault, you know. A perfectly acceptable suit, and you just couldn't let it stay unscathed. No!"
He fumbled for his key, scrambling into the front door.
"You have to go and wind me up so that I trip over my own two feet and tear the knees out of my suit."
Sherlock glanced down and noticed that, sure enough, the expensive fabric had sheered through, the former doctors knees were red and scraped.
"Then again you've already promised to make up for being a prick you can just add this to the list."
The detective grinned, and before his blogger could protest he scooped him up and carried him the rest of the way up the steps.
John let out an entirely undignified squeak before bursting into completely ridiculous laughter.
"Fucking hell Sherlock, you could have warned a bloke."
Sherlock simply deposited the former doctor onto his bed, the former doctor near giggling.
John opened his eyes to see that Sherlock was simply staring at him, his expression distant and glazed.
"Sherlock, mate, what's the matter? Are you alright?"
In an instant he switched into concerned doctor mode, jarring the detective from his ruminations.
"Hmm? Oh, yes its nothing."
John quirked an eyebrow, earning a reluctant sigh from the detective as he sat on the edge of the bed.
The former doctor glanced around, his lips pursed in confusion.
"Well, yes. I am here. So are you, I believe. At least I hope so. I mean you did make a very convincing case that I hadn't already gone round the bend,so there's that."
Sherlock shook his head, his eyes wandering as he searched for the words needed to convey his thoughts.
"I know you are here physically,of course. And I should hope mentally, but It's-"
He sighed, running his hand through the tangled mess of curls before turning,silver eyes scanning the doctor for an answer to an unspoken question.
"In every singe scenario that I could fathom this didn't happen. I allowed myself to dream of it, because it was a comfort. Though I distanced myself from hope. After all, as far as I was originally concerned you were engaged to be married."
John buried the rise of laughter from the simply thought of that and shifted on the bed to sit next to the detective, shoulder to shoulder.
"Then when I came back-"
"Less than three days ago."
"Stating the obvious. By the time I convinced you that you had not finally gone insane you were so- and then this morning it was like you weren't, then again It WAS your idea to do this whole competition. Though even then I-"
He glanced down,not daring to meet his bloggers eyes.
John nudged Sherlock lightly with his shoulder.
"You what?"
"I thought you were joking."
The former doctor paused, taking in that fact.
"So the thing in the alley, and the dirty talk in the cab-"
"Was completely sincere, but I still fully expect you to walk away at any moment."
"Expect?"
The detective looked up, eyes boring int John's.
"Yes. Do you not want to leave now? Now that you see just how broken I am?"
John snorted, shaking his head.
"You really are one of the most ignorant geniuses that I have ever met."
Sherlock recoiled, confused, before John was on him, Arms wrapping around his shoulders while maneuvered to sit on the man's lap.
He pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock's lips before pressing in nipping and tugging at his bottom lip until Sherlock relented, moaning into the former doctor's mouth.
They continued this pattern, languid kissing followed by John's teasing and Sherlock's shuddering moans, until the detective began groping, his hands grabbing at his bloggers ass.
John chuckled, pressing forward into their kiss until Sherlock toppled backwards, John still straddling his hips as their torso's laid flat together.
The former doctor moved to trail kisses down Sherlock's jaw, his fingers managing to undo the buttons of Sherlock's shirt, despite the lack of space between them.
Sherlock, for his part, had lost himself to the sensations of John.
Jon's lips trailing his skin.
John's fingers working at his belt buckle.
Johns knee rubbing against the bulge of his trousers.
All while he could barely manage to keep his hands down the back of his bloggers pants.
Well now.
That wouldn't do.
Sherlock fought himself for a coherent thought,finally managing to et himself under enough control to push John over and roll on top.
It was only then that he noticed the distinct inequality of their state of dress.
Or rather, undress.
Sherlock's shirt was completely unfastened, his trousers undone and his belt hanging form his hips, while John barely looked rumpled.
Sherlock shook his head, gripping the collar of Johns shirt and tugging ripping it open, the sound of the buttons hitting the floor, earning him a groan.
"Seriously, how many pounds of muscle did you gain?"
The detective shrugged, his fingers trailing over the far too pronounced ribs on his bloggers body.
"Not nearly as many as you have lost."
John blushed, turning his head away from the detective's far to inquisitive stare.
"It's not a bad thing John, I don't-size isn't the issue. I just-"
He leaned in on his elbows, his face hovering over the doctor's.
"I just want you to be around for how ever long that I can possibly have you."
John smirked straining forward to capture Sherlock's lips with his own.
Apologies accepted, then.
Sherlock let himself fall back into their kiss, their hips grinding against each other while John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair.
The detective thrust down, earning a gasp from his blogger.
"You really, ahh, you are wearing too fucking much."
Sherlock's smirk grew and he shrugged of his shirt, lifting his hips to peel the unnecessary garments from his legs.
John continued the pattered, shirking off his ruined shirt.
His fingers went to the tie around his neck, when Sherlock stopped him.
"No. That stays. The rest of it goes."
John complied lifting his hips for his detective to peel him out of his bottoms.
Now skin to skin, their movements grew more frantic.
Sherlock reached between them, gripping them both and stroking slowly, their moans in sync to his movements.
"You keep that up-"
John groaned as the detective twisted his wrist slightly.
"Damnthosefingers. I'll come like this."
Sherlock stopped, again leaning over John, his breath burning against his blogger's skin.
"No."
The doctor smirk once more before pointing to the nightstand.
Sherlock fumbled around, finally coming across the bottle of lube stashed within.
He nearly laughed at the label.
"Cherry flavoured? Sentimental are we?"
John shrugged, bracing himself in an attempt to sit up.
Sherlock simply pushed him back down,before seating himself higher on the bed, his legs spread wide.
The former doctor moved to help his detective, but was met with a hard stare.
"Move and I leave."
He was frozen, one arm propping him up while he laid on his side.
At least he was privy to a good view.
Sherlock pumped the clear liquid onto his fingers, the pungent sent of cherry invading the room.
He slowly rubbed his entrance, biting his lip while he pushed a finger in.
John moaned at the sight of Sherlock lowly but efficiently fingering himself, preparing himself.
He wanted to touch, to help, but was wary of Sherlock's threat.
A second finger, earning a genuine moan from the genius, and a responding jolt of arousal for the doctor.
With the third their eyes locked, Sherlock sitting up while John laid flat on his back, the instructions clear.
"Are you sure?"
The former doctor nodded, fumbling for a pillow to set behind his head.
Sherlock once again clambered onto John's lap, his eyes blown wide.
He quickly covered the blogger's dick with lube, before John steadied his detectives hips as he lowered himself, head thrown back in pleasure.
The sat there like that fora moment, Sherlock adjusting, his head thrown back and hands flat on John's chest, while his blogger stroked his thighs gently.
The detective moved, slowly raising up only to lower himself gently, repeatedly drawing strangled moans from his blogger.
His pace increased, the strain on his legs doing little to slow him.
Sherlock groped blindly for John's hand,interlacing their fingers as he drew himself nearly completely off, before slamming down, forcing both men to shout.
"I'm-"
John nodded, feeling the liquid heat coiling in his own abdomen.
He met Sherlock in a kiss, the change in angle pushing both men over the edge.
They were both frozen, each one silent as they rode out their orgasms, the tremors from which had them both clinging tight to one another for support.
They collapsed, Sherlock on top of John, the blogger still inside his detective.
Neither spoke, they simply laid there, shattered, blissful, and blank.