A/N This is the new update, The Real Chapter 24, unlike the sham update from yesterday. I apologize for accidentally posting NOTHING on Wednesday. (I especially apologize to Carolita71; there's nothing worse than thinking you are about to read a new chapter and then find out it isn't new at all. BAD SENDAI !)
See, a funny thing happened on my way to the updating button…I (half asleep and not observing) hit post new chapter (or something). Long story short, I posted chapter 18 as 24, deleted 18, then replaced it and deleted ch. 19. Switched them all around and then really made a mess of things.
It was all very funny-in retrospect. At the time I couldn't decide if I wanted to continue muttering colorful language or just sit on the floor and cry like a baby. (next to the three baskets of laundry that I should have been folding).
Using my tiny brain, I think, maybe, possibly, that I might have finally gotten every thing back to where it belongs including chapter 18 which was restored with the single, stupid spelling correction that I noticed and just had to try to fix at 530 am. (bad idea, very bad idea apparently). Sad to say, the laundry did not get folded.
Well, this was supposed to be the short version so…On to the REAL CHAPTER 24
Warning This is a short, smutty chapter, which has no bearing what so ever on the story. So, if this kind of stuff is not to your taste, you won't miss any plot by just waiting for chapter 25. And gee golly, there's a bit of bad language mixed in there too. So...
Rated Very M for smut (but...fully consensual smut) and foul language.
At the end of chapter 23 (the real chapter 23): Sherlock was very eager to continue questioning John about Donovan. He also wanted to ask about Moriarty and of course Mycroft. Sherlock's Cupid's bow flattened in a scowl. It would take quite some time to run through all the queries he had. It would necessarily delay the other investigations he had planned for John Watson. No matter, Sherlock could be patient; he was a very patient man…sometimes.
As the consulting detective shut off the lights, he noticed the notes on the microwave. Perhaps, just this once, he could remove the experiment for John. He tipped the smelly remains into the bin and shut off the remaining lights.
***The Real Chapter 24***
The flat was dark and silent, except for the wind-driven rain rattling against the windows. The stealthy sleuth crept into John's bedroom and shut the door.
"Jesus, Sherlock!" exclaimed John, who lunged at the younger man. 'Where the hell have you been? I've been waiting all fuckin' night for you!" John's dark robe gaped open, and he made no attempt to conceal himself tonight. He grabbed fistfuls of Sherlock's thin grey tee-shirt and pulled the detective down into a hungry kiss.
"Of course. Yes…um, John, I have…deduced much of your day, John," said Sherlock between kisses. "but I would appreciate…further…ah, elaboration…ahh…"
"Fuck that. I haven't been waiting around for hours just to elaborate, Sherlock," growled the shorter soldier.
"To be…precise…John," said the taller man, rising up to correct his silly doctor's misconception, "I believe that it's only been two hours, John."
"Fuck that," said John, repeating himself.
The ex-army doctor refused to elaborate anything, and it had definitely been hours. John stood on his toes to reach the taller man's lips. He flung his arms up and around Sherlock's neck and tried to pull the brunet lower. Then he swung a leg around Sherlock and tried pulling himself up.
Well, clearly, John was not in a talkative mood, deduced the genius. No matter, Sherlock decided that he approved of John's apparent intention of engaging in sexual congress prior to their discussion of the day's events. Indeed, given the endearing though desperate way that the smaller man was attempting to climb up the detective, discussion was really not a viable option at this time.
The tall brunet bent down to capture his doctor's lips, but John did not relinquish control this time. Now that the detective was cooperating, John could reach the floor with his toes and still kiss those eminently kissable lips. He bit and sucked like a starving man.
Sherlock moaned under the determined attack. His parted lips were all the invitation that John needed to advance his assault on Sherlock's mouth. John soon felt dizzy at the taste of tea and tobacco and the searing sensation of soft full lips pressed against his own.
When the dark room began to spin, the doctor decided that lack of oxygen might also have had something to do with his vertigo. Still, he couldn't stop now. The soldier pulled back only long enough to gulp in a couple of breaths. Then. still kissing, he tugged and pushed until he maneuvered the taller man onto the bed.
The detective was surprised and a bit impressed. The diminutive doctor was really quite strong and very determined. Indeed, John quickly arranged the larger man so that he was lying supine on the bed. The the soldier had straddled his lover, while still managing to keep his lips all but locked against Sherlock's.
John lavished some open mouthed caresses against Sherlock's neck and then moved back up for another round of kissing. Short of breath and unable to breath through his stuffy nose, John finally sat up, gasping for air. John stared down at the gorgeous man beneath him, and ran his hands over his chest, his clothed chest. Due to some terrible oversight on John's part, the gorgeous man was still wearing clothes.
"Fuck," grunted John, who had seemingly lost his ability to form coherent speech. Then the smaller man suddenly pulled away from Sherlock's embrace and rolled off the bed, leaving Sherlock shocked, cold and alone.
"John?" called Sherlock, raising up on an elbow and unsure of what had gotten into his army doctor now.
"Fuck," replied John eloquently. Then the blond tugged at Sherlock's tee-shirt. The breathless detective managed to chuckle at his frantic lover and pulled the shirt over his head. Meanwhile, John yanked Sherlock's silk sleep trousers off. John shrugged and his borrowed silk robe poured onto floor. The consulting detective's sniggering stopped as he stared at his naked, aroused soldier, glowing faintly in the feeble light.
"Fuck," whispered Sherlock harshly. He reached out one long, pale arm and drew his compact, little soldier back onto the bed.
"Fuck," echoed John, as he climbed over his lover. The short blond settled between those long, elegant legs, one of which was bent at the knee. John kissed the offered knee gently and took a couple of slow, deep breaths to steady himself. He didn't want to rush things and this… well this was going to be a first for John Watson. And he wanted to get it fuckin' right.
The blond slowly stroked the smooth skin of Sherlock's inner thighs, caressing and teasing. He was fascinated by the contrast of pale skin and dark hair on those lean, impossibly long legs.
John licked his lips and slowly began kissing his way up a thigh, licking and gently biting the tender skin.
"Jawhn," sighed the consulting detective. "God...John."
John's eyes fixed on his eventual goal, his lover's long, firm member, which arose from its nest of dark curls.
Sherlock groaned and stretched, instinctively raising his hips, as John's kisses got closer and closer to his manhood.
This sent a tidal wave of heat to John's groin. Fuck. The former army doctor groaned quietly, then he leaned forward to nuzzle the hot, heavy sack in front of him while coarse hairs tickled his face.
John stayed there for a few moments, just breathing. This was new. This was uncharted territory. John Hamish Watson had his face buried in a man's genitals.
The heat, the rumbling moans, the sight of Sherlock's arousal throbbing right in front of John's face nearly did him in. He tentatively put out his tongue and slowly took a taste. It was dizzying.
Hell, it was salty. John swallowed. He was nervous, and John wasn't used to being nervous about sex. After all, he was John "Three Continent's" Watson. But he'd never given a blow job before. Surely, you couldn't do it wrong, could you? He so wanted to blow Sherlock's mind. The very bad pun made the blond snort softly into his detective's groin.
FUCK. My face is in his groin, thought the doctor. His own arousal throbbed painfully at the thought. John was so worked up, that he was on a hair-trigger. He was afraid that he would lose control entirely. With every pulse, he felt his desire flaming higher, but he didn't dare touch himself for fear of blowing his wad like an over-eager private facing his first battle.
John inhaled; even with his stuffed-up nose, John smelled the faint scent of musk. FUCK. May the force be with me, thought John, and he let instinct take over.
The blond parted his lips and began planting wet, sloppy kisses to the burning flesh beneath him. The former soldier licked and kissed his way up. John felt the taller man arch up to his mouth and heard the deep groaning rumble as Sherlock called out John's name. John felt his own flesh blazing in sympathy.
Right, this was good. This was bloody fantastic. John was emboldened by his evident success, and he finally, finally took Sherlock into his mouth. And the blond soldier tasted salty, bitter pre-cum and couldn't hold back his own loud, tortured groan of desire.
Sherlock's brain had continued processing even as John led him to bed. The consulting detective had lain, enraptured by John's kissing, and still a part of Sherlock's brain tried to come to terms with his surprise, which had been engendered by John's unexpected attack. How had he, a genius, underestimated the little blond? There was always something, he chided himself.
Foolishly, the detective had imagined that John would remain essentially submissive, which was ridiculous. When he considered that John was a soldier…oh God, John's lips had begun to caress his thigh. It was torture, sweet torture.
The younger man had reveled and writhed under his lover's mouth… John was full of surprises…Still, still, Sherlock should not have been surprised that John could assert himself. After all, John had been a member of an elite military team and, and…and John had shot that cabbie… This, this...it was Sherlock's oversight which rankled… but it was also a pleasant surprise. Oh God, a very pleasant surprise…
Sherlock loved to be right, but…he liked to be surprised too…and feeling John's lips on his skin was better than being right. The tension was building and what was John waiting for…The little blond was breathing against his groin, teasing him. John's soft warm breath kissed his sac, and then finally. finally the lips followed. Sherlock groaned dark and deep as thunder. Then John moved up, slowly up lapping at Sherlock's aching flesh.
A soft and undignified whimper escaped the tall, brunet's lips…Yes, yes…Oh God yes…John had taken him in his mouth…Perhaps…Oh, oh God … Sherlock groaned again. All coherent thought vanished, and he just felt his body igniting under his little blond's touch.
Sherlock wasn't going to last…oh God, the effect this man had on him. "Ooooh God…Jawhn," groaned Sherlock raggedly.
And the army doctor echoed that groan around Sherlock. The vibrations spread deep inside, and the fire spread unchecked. Thrusting, thrusting the younger man dug his fingers into John's shoulders, as the heat gathered in his loins. He called John's name harshly and lost himself in a violent climax, still enclosed in the other man's mouth. And John held his lips around Sherlock all though his ecstasy, milking him to completion.
For a time, Sherlock floated as if riding on a dark, receding tide. Sherlock slowly came back to himself and looked up. Oh, fuck.
John still straddled the taller man, but was now sitting up, his right hand resting on Sherlock's chest for balance. And his adorable little blond stared unfocused at Sherlock, while he stroked himself off with his left hand. Oh, fuck.
A tiny trail of cum shone on John's chin, illuminated by light that crept in from under the blinds. Sherlock bit his lip and watched as John thrust into his own hand, moaning Sherlock's name. It was so intimate, so private and yet not, because John was willing to share it with Sherlock. The detective wanted to watch and remember this forever.
But even more, Sherlock needed to hold, touch, stroke, feel. He needed to bring John off; Sherlock needed to be the reason, the only reason that his little captain found release ever again.
The taller man grabbed John's wrists to stop him from pleasuring himself. He sat himself up, and pulled his startled, wide-eyed soldier into his lap. John gasped and rocked forward as one long-fingered hand grasped John's rock-hard, leaking member. John reached around the taller man, holding on for dear life.
Sherlock cradled John's head with his other hand, fingers pulling hard at the soft, short hair. The detective crashed his lips against his captive's mouth. Sherlock tasted himself on John's tongue. He bit and licked John's mouth, and his talented fingers stroked and twisted. Under his touch, his soldier trembled and rocked desperate for release.
"Fuck, Sherlock. Fuck...ahh, fuuuck…" babbled John. With only a few more strokes, the soldier was groaning, keening. Sherlock was braced against the headboard, supporting them both. The blond tensed back against Sherlock's arm. Sherlock gave a final twist with his fingers, and John was exploding, coming into his lover's hand. The detective's mouth only half-stifled John's ecstatic scream.
The wind-driven rain pattered against the window followed by a distant rumble of thunder. John buried his head against his lover's firm, lean chest, sobbing for breath. Sherlock burrowed into John's neck, kissing, marking comforting his spent little blond. He, The World's Only Consulting Detective, thought he may have discovered something new, as the storm finally broke outside, pelting rain and hail against 221b Baker Street. The Consulting Detective thought that he might have just discovered love.
A/N Not to beat a dead corpse with a riding crop... and hey, that's not my idea, blame Sherlock (of course a man's alibi depended on it), but I digress. Sorry again for the accidental non-posting. I think I fixed it all, but if any one notices chapters out of sync or any editing issues, please send me a PM.
Thank you for reading my fic. Remember reviews are very, very welcome, as is constructive criticism.
Thank you so much, to every one who reviewed the real chapter 23 including: dana-san, 107602, SamuelE8688, Quiet Time, Wicked Winter, EJ 12212012, anyrei1 and Carolita71.
Disclaimer- I do not own any rights to SHERLOCK.