Contains Johnlock
In which John and Sherlock have some quality time
In which the men discuss Molly's birthday plans
Confessions, admissions, weaknesses, strengths revealed
Previously in John's Interludes for Three:
John reached to Sherlock's throat tenderly tracing the lines of definition there, the jaw lines, the hollow of the throat. Sherlock was relaxed in his friend's arms when John quite surprised him, leaning in and gently tonguing the hollow of Sherlock's throat. He did it once, then again, leaving a quiet kiss after the second lick. Sherlock opened his eyes in time to see the doctor smile into his face, then step back from him, slowly descending to sit in his chair. John left his legs uncrossed, and his arms were relaxed on the arms of the chair.
"Do you - want to?" John asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Mmm, yes of course," Sherlock answered, licking his lips. Should I wait for more of an invitation? Sherlock wondered, as he took a tentative step toward John and Nana's chair.
"Oh," said, John, before Sherlock could take another step. "Can you do me a favour, first?"
"Oh, wh- what?" Sherlock asked.
"Take off your clothes."
Honeymoon's Over? II
Sherlock was a little self-satisfied to receive such a delightful request, and smiled though he tried to avert his gaze, and thus hide his smugness a bit. His body, meanwhile, swiftly responded physiologically, particularly as he watched the doctor's wickedly spreading grin. Sherlock felt his breath hitch involuntarily, his pulse quickened and there was that hot biting sensation at the back of his neck. Delightful. He knew both from the sensations that he was having, as well as from John's expression that he was turning a deep pink, but he couldn't suppress his own smile, as he reached for the buttons on his shirt.
"Don't make a show, please," John admonished watching Sherlock's expression. "You know, just relax and – let me see you. And, if you don't mind my saying, try not to be, you know, too smug." John couldn't keep the affection out of his voice and manner, however.
"Yes, aghm, of course," Sherlock said, pursing his lips together as he slipped his shirt off his shoulders, and threw it in his own chair. He toed his shoes off, then keeping his eyes on John, casually unhitched his belt, and undid his trousers. He slipped them off with his pants, reaching down to lift his feet out of them, then deposited the clothing in his chair. He reached down again and slipped off his socks, throwing them into the chair, as well. Finally he stood naked before John. His erection was completely hard by now, and bobbing. When he felt how hard he was Sherlock had a moment's embarrassment and couldn't look John in the eye, but he was able to quell it as well as his last vestige of smugness. Finally he smiled shyly at John, his hands at his sides, letting his friend look at him at his leisure. Sherlock stood innocently, only a small natural smile on his lips, waiting for John to finish looking at him and finally John met Sherlock's gaze.
"You're so lovely," John said very quietly, then more audibly, "Come on, love," and he reached a hand out to his friend, beckoning him.
Sherlock approached John as he usually did when they played the chair game, slowly. He lowered himself to face John, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, their noses quite close together, as he gently and slowly lowered his weight to John's thighs. Oh, how delightful coming to him this way with nothing between my skin and his hands. Ah! John's hands were at his waist, guiding Sherlock into place in his lap, but also, sliding up his torso, feeling him. Oh! One of John's arms slid gently around Sherlock's shoulders. God. John's other hand lingered at his pecs, his nipples, then wandered to his throat. Sherlock pressed his face into the crook of John's neck as he usually did, brushing his lips against the skin. Mmm! John's hands were all over him, now, stroking him pressing him, pulling him closer. Sherlock let his head loll back against the chair and allowed John to have his fill of touching his skin.
"So lovely," John murmured, his lips at Sherlock's cheek.
Sherlock was wordless but couldn't hold back little gasps, sighs and notes of appreciation as John stroked and touched him. John was kissing him now, his chest and nipples, gently biting, and with a hand he gently stroked Sherlock's backside. At last John lowered one of Sherlock's feet down to the floor, effectively spreading his legs, allowing John to stroke his friend's length.
"John."
"Mmm. All right? Good?" John asked.
"Oh, god."
"Mmm, yeah." John continued slowly stroking Sherlock as he sat in his lap, lying back and Sherlock could feel there was no rush, no agenda – John only wanted to look at him and touch him for now and it was sheer heaven. Sherlock's head swam with pleasure, then steadied, then swam again and again as John continued moving his hands and mouth over his skin. He takes such time with me, it's unutterably lovely, I must do this with Molly. I must get him to let me do it for him. Maybe he doesn't want it. Must find out, it's too good too – oh, god.
John couldn't get enough of looking and touching, nor could he get enough of the taste of his friend's skin. The male anatomy against his lips was still new and foreign for John, but quite illicit and thrilling too. It was thrilling for John to experience his friend in this way, equally thrilling to be allowed to do it. He marvelled at the flat muscular chest under his mouth, the hard nipples as he tongued them, bit them, slightly salty, exquisite. He silently celebrated the completely male presence in his lap, the dense musculature, the weight the danger. But he soon noticed Sherlock's hips begin to involuntarily thrust gently back and forth, wanting more attention.
"Ok, love," John breathed, "Just - just one or two things, and I'll take care of you, all right?"
"God, John, whatever you want." Sherlock whispered back.
"Mmm, thank you very much." John said very quietly, a sweet kiss on his friend's ear.
Sherlock felt John bring something into contact with his neck and realized he was putting the leather collar on him. Where did that come from? He must have set it near the chair precisely in anticipation of this. Will he never stop surprising me? John watched Sherlock's eyes flutter open as he buckled the collar around Sherlock's elegantly sculptured neck. He smiled after a moment of recognition, and looked with mischief into John's eyes. John returned his smile.
"Not too tight? Safe word is 'biosphere.'"
"No, not at all, ok, biosphere, ok." Sherlock relaxed in John's arms as John kissed his friend's neck with more urgency, more abandon, spurred on perhaps by the addition of the collar.
"So lovely – I – I think I know - this need to – possess you like this – I think - I understand it better." Said John.
"Do you?" Sherlock couldn't care less, and was fairly sure at that moment that he had no idea himself why he needed John to hold him like this, to bind him, just as long as he did it.
"Yes, I think I – I want to somehow maintain control over you – in the face of – I mean – I think I feel this obligation – no, no, not obligation, but the inevitability of our – our - ."
"John."
"This obligation to let you, for us to - ."
"John, John, love, I want to hear all of this, I – I don't mean to interrupt, but right now, I wonder – if it might be better if we - ?"
"Oh, yes of course. Sorry. Yes, I'm quite self involved, sorry." John licked his palm and gently fisted Sherlock's erection, feeling as well as hearing his friend hiss his pleasure at the contact, enjoying Sherlock's muscles shuddering with pleasure. John kissed his friend's neck and cheek some more, then, only gently held him, letting go of his cock, relishing Sherlock's little whimper of disappointment at the loss of his touch.
"Stand up, now." John directed, and Sherlock managed to obey with a bit of a wobble.
"Yes, lovely, and put your hands behind your head. Yes, like that. Lovely, oh my god." John rose from the chair, now, and maintaining eye contact with his friend, he undressed before Sherlock, flinging his own clothes into his chair. When he was done he approached Sherlock and gently took the front metal loop of the collar in his fingers, pulling his friend's face to his own level. John kissed him thoroughly and wetly, one hand on the collar, the other gently brushing up and down Sherlock's flank, then taking his cock in his hand again. John pulled away from the kiss at length.
"Ok, come on," John led Sherlock into the bathroom. Sherlock immediately noticed that his cuffs were on the rim of the sink, and John picked them up.
"I just wanted to – revisit this again - you were so – so lovely that time. And I wanted – I wanted to see if – Well – Is it all right?"
Sherlock put his wrists out for John to buckle on the restraints a smile on his lips. The look of slightly crazed debauchery that Sherlock had noticed in John's expression when they'd played this game before was gone, and only his lovely gently friend was with him in the bathroom tonight. Sherlock tried not to be disappointed. Time, time, these things take time, he thought to himself. John clipped the cuffs together and then clipped the cuffs to Sherlock's collar as he had before. He stood back and looked at Sherlock bound again, naked before him.
"Yes, I think I understand it, now. A little better. Come, love," John put his hands on Sherlock's hips, breathing in as his friend hissed in his pleasure at the return of his touch. John gently turned Sherlock to the mirror, and Sherlock was again confronted with the image of himself, naked, uncomfortably bound his hands at his throat. Again it was a little alarming, but also like last time, there were John's hands at his hips, and now those same hands were rubbing up along his torso, and now, they were pinching his nipples, and now they were scraping his skin along his flanks with their nails. Delicious.
"Oh, god." Sherlock breathed quietly, taking in all that John was giving him. He felt John's hands guiding him to bend at the waist until his wrists were against the sink, his neck awkwardly attached by the collar. Just like last time, John stood behind him, looking at Sherlock's face in the mirror, stroking his partner's hips, then the doctor nudged Sherlock's knees apart, widening his stance. Sherlock was impressed at how potentially creepy the whole scene was, but John was so careful and loving with him, it was only lovely and good. Sherlock closed his eyes taking in the feeling of John's palms running up and down his back, of his fingers digging into his hips, of his fingernails tracing light tracks across his flanks, of his lips and tongue licking him, kissing the small of his back.
Sherlock had closed his eyes to take in all the lovely contact he was getting from John, when he felt John move away from him. He snapped his eyes open and saw John reach for a tube of lubricant that was handily available on the sink, and put a small amount on his fingers. Just the sight of John doing this, while Sherlock stood in this vulnerable position put Sherlock into a sweat. He felt John press a finger against his puckered hole and enter him gently, but gently or not, the burn was unmistakable, tantalizing, agonizing. Delightful. John added another finger, and gently continued to open him, stretch him, then a third finger, gently, carefully getting him ready. But the doctor didn't seem to be hurried, or particularly urgent. He was taking his time, slowly, slowly, enjoying the contact, as if for its own sake. But does he mean to have me here? On the bed? Does he even have an erection? Sherlock couldn't keep his mind quiet as he wondered what John meant to do with him.
"John love, I don't mean to – proscribe what you will do, but if you don't shag me here on the sink like this, I – I will be rather - disappointed."
"Ahaha. Really? Yes, you're very lovely like this, and I can see you and you - "
"Yes, and I can see you." Sherlock's voice was wet and gravely as he pulsed his hips against John's hand. "Please, John."
John smiled into the mirror as he continued to get Sherlock ready, then he pressed his cock against Sherlock's inner thigh – it was hard and there was a bit of wetness as John thrust against his leg. Ah! There you are, thought Sherlock.
"I – I don't think I'm - tall enough, though, love," John said.
"What?"
"I'm, I'm too short, here – to – to - ."
Sherlock immediately bent his knees to what he thought would be an appropriate level for the doctor.
"Mmm," said John, his fingers deep inside his friend, "That's about right, but – can you hold – that?"
"Please, please don't - don't tease me, John?"
"Ok," John smiled, and reached for a condom, also handily available near the sink. He put it on swiftly, and used more lubricant. Finally he pressed into Sherlock, a small guttural cry escaping him as he did.
John stopped as Sherlock's tight ring of muscle constricted around the tip of his cock. But he felt Sherlock quickly relax, and John leaned against Sherlock's hips, able to sink into him, deeper and deeper. John heard and felt the moan in his friend's torso as Sherlock moaned the whole way. When John's cock was fully seated inside Sherlock, John paused a moment, pressing his face into Sherlock's back, his arms tight around him, trembling against him.
"Oh, god, John, John, look at me." Sherlock was staring in the mirror at John behind him. John locked eyes in the mirror with Sherlock as he started to move, appreciating the mixture of panic and pleasure building in his friend's features.
"Oh, love," John was on the brink of losing control already, and Sherlock could feel it, felt his friend's fingers painfully digging into his hips, his waist, holding himself back.
"It's all right, John, go ahead, move the way you want to - ." Sherlock thrust back against John's hips, but John still held on to some shred of reserve, avoiding thrusting against Sherlock too hard.
"I – I don't want – to hurt - ."
"You're not going to hurt me, I promise, please, move the way you feel – go ahead." Sherlock thrust back harder against his friend, until John finally couldn't hold back any more. Deep guttural sounds were emanating from the doctor as he thrust harder and deeper and faster into Sherlock than he'd ever done before. He reached up Sherlock's back to his hair, taking a fistful of his dark curls in his hand, pulling his head back a bit.
"So lovely." John's voice was low and strained.
The position was quite awkward for Sherlock, but so exciting he could barely contain himself as he, too, was losing control quickly, thrusting back against John.
"Fuck, Sherlock, I'm close – I - ."
"Ok – it's ok -." Was all Sherlock could manage as his friend pounded into him.
John's litany of curses and Sherlock's and Molly's names was exceedingly short as his body became abruptly taut and he shook hard against Sherlock, holding his hips against him as his orgasm racked him, then gently ebbed out of him. He sank onto Sherlock's back, and Sherlock held his position, only straightening his knees, as he waited for John to come back to himself a bit.
"Oh, god," John was stroking Sherlock's back again, kissing him. Finally, he directed Sherlock to stand up. John smiled as he turned Sherlock to him, loving how shattered and worked up he was, his face red, his erection rock hard, his hair wet with sweat and unruly.
"Come, on, let's get you to bed." John took Sherlock's collar firmly in his fingers and led him to the bedroom, where he directed him to the edge of the bed.
"Hands and knees." John directed and Sherlock obeyed, clamouring onto the bed on all fours. John knelt on the bed beside Sherlock and took one of his wrists, gently drawing his arm back to the corresponding ankle restraint, forcing his shoulder to the mattress. John clipped the cuff to the ankle restraint.
"All right?" John asked.
"Yes, yes," Sherlock's body was trembling, shuddering as he wondered what on earth John had in mind now. John knelt at Sherlock's other side, and brought his other wrist back to clip it to his other ankle restraint. Sherlock was kneeling on the bed, now, his shoulders and head pressed into the mattress. It was exceedingly awkward and he was completely exposed, but he felt completely liberated to be so on display for John. Sherlock put his head to the side to breath.
"All right?" John asked again, stroking his hair and neck, his back, "I know it's awkward, but I think you'll like this. Just a few more minutes, all right?"
"Yes, John."
"Ok, good," John knelt behind Sherlock, now, pressing his knees apart wider and wider still. When he was satisfied he looked at Sherlock's cleft, the angrily red puckered opening, which he'd just been abusing in the bathroom. He smiled at the tremor Sherlock's skin displayed as he rand his finger tips over his flank and hips, his backside. So lovely, so obedient to me. Why on earth is it so important? So alluring? John wondered, then pushed the thought away. John leaned down to lap his tongue between his friend's arse cheeks. Oh for god's sake. Sherlock thought. He licked at Sherlock in wide long licks at first, adding little kisses and bites back and forth across his skin as he tongued and kissed his cleft. Sherlock hissed loudly, then moaned softly, then more and more freely as John continued. John licked deeper between his cheeks, his tongue lapping against his tightened ring of muscle, hitting it over and over, then kissing and tonguing his opening exclusively, then pressing his tongue inside.
Sherlock pressed his face into the sheet and let the sobs come. He didn't know quite what it meant. It had been the same the first time John had done this, but why exactly? He found his mind couldn't quite focus, and he let go, let his mind focus on sensation alone, let the sobs, the tears flow freely.
Suddenly John's tongue drew away from him, and was replaced by a gently probing finger, then two, gently thrusting. John explored for a moment and then - .
"Oh, god!" Sherlock gasped when John hit his sweet spot.
"Ah, ahaha, there you are, love. All right." John gently swirled his fingers around Sherlock's prostate, gently hitting him, then thrusting, missing him, then coming back again, gently, gently teasing.
"I think I can make you come without touching you, love, would you like that?" John asked, making another gentle pass at Sherlock's sweet spot.
"Oh, god – John – please, I need, I need - ."
"What do you need, love? My mouth? Will you ask for it?"
"Yes, please, I need – I want your mouth -."
"Mmm, of course – you want me to - . . .?"
"On me, please, John put your mouth on me, s- suck me, please?"
"Of course I will," John smiled as he reached down and gently unclipped Sherlock's wrists from his ankles.
"Stretch out on your side." John directed, stroking Sherlock's back, as his friend did as he was directed, stretching out on the bed with a sigh, leaning to one side, his body visible trembling, as he presumably held back his orgasm. John sank down beside him to take Sherlock's tip in his mouth, then as much of his length as he could handle, his fingers still inside the heat of Sherlock's body. John continued teasing and exploring with his fingers at the same time he casually licked and sucked at his friend's cock and Sherlock came without much prompting, or noise, but his spasms were extraordinarily prolonged, John thought. When they finally subsided, John gently pushed Sherlock to his back. He watched him breath as he recovered from his climax. He was weak but relaxed and was that a smile - just the hint of one on his lips? John gently stroked his friend's face, his neck, until Sherlock opened his eyes.
"So good, John."
"Mmm, good."
"John – I wonder, can you – ah - ?"
"Hmm?" At first John pretended not to know what Sherlock wanted next, though he had intuited it the last time the three of them were in bed together. He leaned to kiss his friend as he spoke softly in his ear. "Yes, love, I think I know what you need, now." John arranged Sherlock's wrists to clip them together again, then brought them above his friend's head, clipping them to the rope at the center of the headboard. When Sherlock felt the restraints clipped and secured, he heaved a deep sigh of contentment, and John smiled. The doctor quickly secured each of Sherlock ankles to the bed as well, then returned to kiss Sherlock's chest and neck again, draping himself across his friend, putting his full weight on him.
"Is that good?" John asked.
Sherlock breathed deeply, completely relaxed, almost completely at peace.
"How – how did you - ?"
"How did I know? What you need - in bed? Ahaha. Relax, now. You can let go, hmm?" As John gently kissed his friend's cheek, nuzzling his neck, he gently slid one hand down Sherlock's abdomen, between his legs to cup his genitals in his hand in a gentle protective gesture. John heard Sherlock sigh with pleasure at the touch. The two men relaxed in the comfort and safety that their melded bodies gave to each of them in such abundance. Sherlock was able to let go completely, wholly letting John take care of him, and John happily did this office.
However much their lovemaking seemed to be a reversal of their day time relationship, it was also an extension and manifestation of it. John continued to serve Sherlock, protecting him, keeping him near him and safe, and Sherlock continued to depend upon John, continued to be the center of attention. Each man had analyzed their growing physical relationship in terms like these, but stopped after a point. Understanding it wasn't necessary, when their coming together like this was so fulfilling for each of them. They lay together this way for some time, Sherlock sighing his pleasure and contentment, John murmuring little love words and sounds like 'we love you,' and 'can't do without you,' and 'never let you go.' After a time, they were quiet, just breathing together, relaxed and happy.
"Why do you think you cry, love? When I – you know –?" John asked
"John, sweetheart, It's called rimming."
"All right, now, you've called me 'sweetheart.' I – ok – never mind - I know – ok. When I – rim you."
"Hmmhmm. Yes, – that was quite ridiculous, as usual. I – aghm – I think because – well, when you did it - the first time, I was quite unprepared, and it was so – intimate – and no one – no one - had ever - ."
"No? No one?"
"No, John. It's – it's –." Sherlock spoke very quietly. Is he embarrassed? John wondered. I thought that was my department. Sherlock continued, barely a whisper. "It's very - moving – for me."
"Ah," John continued stroking Sherlock with his hands, with his mouth. He leaned up with another question. "Does – Molly ever do it - with you?"
"Um, no, actually. You?"
"Well, no. I've done for her, but she – she - . Well – when I do it, she doesn't seem especially keen. And then she's done it a few times for me, but -."
"And you – you quite like it, don't you?" Sherlock smiled, nuzzling John's cheek with his mouth, as he was close enough.
"Well." John wouldn't say any more, and Sherlock filed it away for future things to do to and for John.
"She may be self conscious about – cleanliness, perhaps?" Sherlock offered. "We'll talk to her."
"No, no, that's – "
"John."
"That's not nec - ."
"John, love. That's – that kind of avoidance - I don't know if –It, it worries me sometimes. Both of you -."
"Yes, of course," John conceded the point, fairly hanging his head, if one were able to do so in the horizontal position in which John found himself.
Sherlock arched against his restraints, stretching his muscles, pressing against John, pressing his mouth against his friend's hair, then he relaxed back into the sheets.
"Are you all right?" John asked.
"Yes, yes, it's so good, John. But, honestly, the pair of you. I thought I was meant to be the problem child."
John smiled into Sherlock's skin where he was pressing his mouth, then he pressed his tongue against him, tasting him, taking a few licks relishing the salt and the sweat.
"I think we're each a bit – we're all – a bit of trouble, or - I don't know?" John trailed off, and returned to licking Sherlock's neck, which was making his friend squirm in the most delicious fashion. After some time teasing his partner, John desisted, relaxing along side his friend, his arm and a leg across him.
"John, love, you wanted to say - before - ?"
"Oh, yes," John remembered, but wasn't sure how to proceed. "Oh, I don't know."
"Talk to me, hmm? Please?" Sherlock encouraged him.
"Mmm. Just – thinking that perhaps with the restraints - I'm – trying to preserve a sense of control – in the face of – our– you know – when we – When you – oh god, - when you – you are – inside me."
Sherlock froze in John's embrace, and John felt it. Sherlock had quite given up on John, and had determined to wait forever if he had to, and had decided that it would be fine that way. He only wanted to remain in John and Molly's comfortable embrace forever, and if there was a price for this, he'd pay anything.
"Wait, love, are you saying it's a question of 'when,' and not 'if?;"
"What? Yes, of course it is," John assured him.
"Unclip me John."
"What? Don't you want -."
"Please let me go, now, I – I have to - touch you – please."
"Wait, what are you going to - ?"
"Please, John, I'm not going to attack you, please undo the clips."
"No, of course not, but – " John unclipped Sherlock's wrists and leaned down to undo one of the ankle restraints, as Sherlock did the other. As soon as he was free, Sherlock swiftly swept John up in his arms, rolling over and pinning the doctor to the bed, his body on top of him, immobilizing him, a hand on John's face.
"I – I didn't – realize – I thought – I –thought -."
John recovered from being flung to his back, and circled Sherlock in his arms holding him close, squeezing him hard.
"You mean you didn't get the memo? Ahaha. There wasn't one – But, it's never been a question for me – not since I – that is not since we -."
Sherlock chuckled. "Such fair play, John, you're astounding. I hope you know – I don't – require - ."
"Well – I - ."
Sherlock waited for it, for what he knew would come. He's really going to say it now, he's going to say it now and he's going to mean it. Dear god, how delightful.
"I want to, love." John whispered, finally.
Sherlock set his teeth into the skin of John's shoulder, pressing gently, not biting.
"Mmm, lovely, John. Please, please tell me what you want? Can you tell it to me – a little – in words?"
"I – I want to. I want you to – to - ."
"Yes?"
"I want to feel – you on top of me, like this."
"Yes, John?" Sherlock thrust his hips against John, pushing John down into the mattress.
"I want to – feel – you. I want to feel your – you – against me – pushing me – like this, pushing against me.."
"Mmm, what else, love?" Sherlock was rubbing his face against John's, then up and down his throat.
"I – I – you know." John was breathing harder, excited, nervous.
"John, John, love, please -."
"I want you to – be – oh god." John put a hand to his face, rubbing his eyes. His face was hot, his back was hot, the room was hot, there was no air.
"Hmmhmm. You can tell me, love, they're only words."
"Yes, I – I want you to – I want to feel you –"
"Mmm?"
"Inside me." John managed to whisper the words against Sherlock's jaw.
"Ah."
"I want to feel you inside me, I want to feel you all the way inside me, then –I – I want you to move against me, on me – I – I know it will - burn – I know it will be – it will be so – so – so good – to have you – that way. To let you have me – that way."
"Oh, god, John, love." Sherlock arms and legs seemed to turn into jam, he was so suddenly moved by this man.
John felt Sherlock collapse slightly in his arms, and involuntarily pulled him closer.
"All right?"
"Yes, yes, I – Well, John." Sherlock leaned up on an elbow, hovering with his face close to John's. "You never stop surprising me."
The two men relaxed in one another's arms silently for some time, petting gently, swirling finger tips across pecs, gently scratching the surface of the skin, gently kneading muscle.
"You know what she wants for her birthday?" John asked at length.
"Oh, my god."
"Yes, I know, every day."
"No, John, it's not just every day – it's every hour. She texts me constantly."
"Yeah, I know, me too. She wants to go to that beach - ." John began.
"Yes, I know, where she and her father -."
" - she and her father flew the kite – on her birthday when she was -."
"Yes, yes, when she was twelve, oh my god. Twenty years ago. And she wants to fly a kite again, as she did back then." Sherlock finished.
"Mmm." John thought of other family visits to the area that he and Molly had made alone, Sherlock demurring invitation after invitation "We must both go, we can't just - -just she and I – we can't -."
"Of course I'll go, John. I won't miss her birthday. I promise."
"It will only be two nights."
"Two nights?!"
"Yes, Sherlock, two nights, come on."
"Oh for god's sake."
"I have the directions and hotel reservations."
"Hotel? How will that - ?"
"I have a suite of two rooms."
"Ah, of course." Sherlock didn't want to be a burden to his people, but he didn't like being separated. It grated at him, things like this, the separate room in a suite, though he'd be sleeping with them. Separate flats, though they were with him every night. Well, what else can we do?
"Will you rent the jeep again?" Sherlock smiled at that memory, not so long ago. A time when John was very distant, very much off limits.
"I think something more comfortable, hmm?"
"Yes, of course," Sherlock chuckled against John's skin. "You wouldn't - let me, then."
"Wouldn't let you what?"
"Wouldn't let me – do anything, really. Don't you remember?"
"Mmm, yes of course. Sorry," John pressed his lips to Sherlock's cheek, then to his mouth, his tongue gently touching. Sherlock waited. John was initiating intimacy between them more and more but it seemed to Sherlock that there was no way he could ever get used to it, it always would be somehow so wonderfully novel. John noticed Sherlock's hesitation and smiled, chuckling.
"Waiting for me?" John kissed him again with a little more fire, a little more tongue, a little more wet. "Poor you, still waiting?"
"Mmm. It's all right. It's become – well – it's quite delicious." Sherlock smiled, as John kissed him again, and then again. Then they were relaxed again, gently petting. John looked at the clock in Sherlock's bedroom.
"Molly will be home in half an hour. I don't like her getting home to an empty flat."
"So much for office hours."
"Ahaha."
They dressed quickly, standing in front of their chairs, where their clothing had been discarded. Sherlock was putting his shoes on, as John slung his bag over his shoulder.
"I'll open the window as soon as I get there, ok?" John called over his shoulder, but Sherlock didn't like his rush.
"Hey?" Sherlock called, not able to keep a tone of abandonment out of his voice.
John pursed his lips before he turned. He knew that tone. He knew what he would see in Sherlock's face when he turned, and there it was. The same expression, he remembered. It was astounding how much the same it was from women to men. The furrowed eyebrows, the slightly parted lips, the confusion. Sherlock clearly felt John's leave taking to be somewhat too abrupt. John suppressed his smile as much as he could and carefully lowered his bag to the ground. Don't tease, it won't be fair, he's never been here before. John stepped back to his friend where he was buttoning up his shirt. John smiled.
"I'm going to see you again in ten minutes. In our bedroom." John put his hands around Sherlock's waist, pulling him closer. Sherlock let him, but saw the expression in the doctor's face and quickly deduced it. Sherlock blushed, then, vividly, and he knew John saw it.
"It's ok - ." John started.
"I know – I know, it's – hmmhmm, you've seen this before, haven't you? This - this attitude? This – ah, I suppose – this disappointment - as you left some – hmmhmm – love nest? In - dozens - of women?" Sherlock looked closer into John's face, putting aside his own embarrassment. John turned his head and pursed his lips, trying to hide his smile. "Ah, more than dozens? Scores? Oh, good lord, John? Hundreds?"
"No, not hundreds." John said, shaking his head as if that number were so absurd. He was still smiling, but embarrassed as well.
"I see that you will have absolutely no call in the future to bring up my smugness," Sherlock smiled, the fingers of one hand stroking through John's hair, his other resting lightly on the doctor's shoulder. "All right, not hundreds. But - ." The detective lifted John's chin, looking into his eyes. "More than a hundred, however. Am I correct?"
John was silent but still smiling.
"Very impressive, love. But no – uh – gentlemen?"
John looked straight into Sherlock's eyes, his smile fading, the steel of his eyes becoming sharp and serious.
"Yeah, but just the one – the exception to the rule. An exceptional human being."
Sherlock's breath hitched slightly, but he managed to keep his smile.
"Mmm, very pretty, Captain, thank you." Sherlock and John were quite for a few moments, holding one another, then Sherlock released John. "All right, sorry to keep you – it's just that - ."
"Don't be ridiculous - ." John turned to pick up his bag.
"It's just that the flat is so terribly – terribly – empty when you or Molly leave – I just - ." Sherlock stopped, unable to believe what he'd just said, then hurriedly added "Get home, now, get home to Molly, yes? I'll see you there."
"Sherlock - ." John was blinking his eyes at the depth of pain in Sherlock's inadvertent and sudden admission.
"Please, go, it's all right, I'll see you in a few minutes."
John hesitated, but it was true – it would be only ten minutes at the most, usually only five before Sherlock was dropping into their bedroom from the fire escape after they'd left 221B.
"Ok, ten minutes, but Sherlock - ."
"I'll probably beat you there," Sherlock threw his coat on, and fixed his scarf around his neck, whisking away from John to the bathroom. John paused a moment watching Sherlock stride away from him, but he was unwilling to have his partner beat him to the flat with the window to the bedrooms till closed. John turned off a lamp and left the flat, trotting down the stairs at a good clip. He's still so alone with it all, for god's sake, he can't even say things like that without being embarrassed. I suppose we help him a little, but he still feels so all alone. Molly's right. Oh, he's a handful. But Molly helps me with him. And he helps me with her, and they have one another to deal with me. It's – it's quite perfect. Ahaha.
John trotted home, almost jogging the whole quarter mile, not wanting to leave Sherlock out on the fire escape looking in through a locked window, not wanting Molly to come home to an empty flat.
oooooooOOOoooooooOOOoooooooOOOoooooooOOOooooooo
And there we go
Two or three more chapters after this.
I'm thinking two, really, but it could turn into three.
After that, I will continue to write bits that will remain
in the realm of John's Interludes for Three.
These stories will be posted as separate stories.
They will be much more sporadically posted, time wise.
Sooo, I think if you want the email updates on these, you may want to favorite me as an author, right?
Well, I leave it to you – I can imagine you might be sick of this.
But I'll tell you what:
I'm not sick of you: You, my lovely readers have made every moment a complete wonder.
I feel as though, because you like my story enough to come back again and again, I feel I must know you somehow.
And you must know me.
And we have things in common, lots of things, I reckon.
Is that possible?
And it makes me want to write you tender love letters.
Yes.
I may have to write you some tender love letters, my little darlings, my little squash blossoms.
Next update – I'm thinking Sunday again, ok?
Love, love, love you all!