Sherlock sighed and sat up. "Must you ruin the moment?" he asked.
John's cheeks flared as he stuttered out "I didn't... I was... It was..."
Sherlock waved a hand dismissively. "He's my nosey, no-good brother, if you must know."
"It's just... why can't he know? About us?"
"Because he'd try to get involved."
John thought back to Greg's words again. The last one. "Sherlock? What did Greg mean about the last one?"
"Hmm? Greg? Oh, Lestrade. Well. Again, John, ruining the moment."
"It sounded rather ominous."
"It's not a concern," Sherlock insisted. "As long as Mycroft doesn't find out, everything will be fine."
John let out a sharp laugh. "Yeah. As long as Mycroft, or the school, or the cops, or anyone who might say anything doesn't find out, we're good."
Sherlock smirked. "Stop being so bitter," he said, drawing John into a deep kiss. "Better?"
"Getting there," John murmured, tangling his fingers in dark curls and kissing Sherlock back.
Mrs. Hudson had the misfortune of walking in on a frenzied make out session. John, feeling insecure, pulled back and immediately turned crimson, but Sherlock simply moved his mouth to his boyfriend's neck instead, sucking on the mark he had left from the night before.
"Coffee," Mrs. Hudson announced after clearing her throat. She placed the tray with the cups and biscuits on the nearby dresser and scurried off.
John had to roughly push Sherlock off to insist they obtain the tray. "My head, Sherlock," he protested, anxious to get rid of the pounding sensation.
John sighed at the warmth wrapped in his hands. He sat back on the bed with a content sigh before reality crashed upon him. He was in Sherlock's bedroom. Sitting on Sherlock's bed. Where he had fallen asleep in Sherlock's arms. Sherlock. His teacher. Of course, they still hadn't done anything more than kissing. Yet.
John's face heated at the thought. He could still taste Sherlock on his lips, feel the smooth white torso beneath his fingertips. He remembered the ache that had started growing in his groin, and immediately changed his thoughts to prevent the need from returning. It was something he was constantly fighting, even in chemistry class, where Sherlock's voice was simply enough to give him problems.
"John," Sherlock said roughly, snapping John out of his wandering thoughts.
"Huh?"
"I said, what time do you have to be back for practice?"
John straightened abruptly. "Oh, fuck," he said. "What time is it?"
"Eight."
"Fuck," John repeated. "Practice is at ten. I'm gonna be late. Where's the bathroom?"
Sherlock pointed to a door and John went through, shutting the door behind him and letting out a deep sigh. How had he ended up here, when only months ago he had been in another country miserable and alone? John checked his reflection in the mirror. His blonde hair was tousled from Sherlock's fingers and there was an obvious hickey on his neck. He ran his fingers over it lightly, wondering how he would be able to hide it. But there was something different about his reflection, besides the obvious signs from the night before. There was a glint in his dark blue eyes. A gleam of happiness that he hadn't seen in years.
"Sherlock," John complained, emerging from the bathroom. "How am I supposed to hide this?" He motioned towards the mark on his neck.
Sherlock smirked at John before letting out a laugh. "Leave it," he insisted. "I want everyone to see it, to know you were with someone last night."
John could feel himself blush at Sherlock's possessiveness. "They're going to ask questions," John warned.
"Let them wonder." Sherlock stood up and approached John, cupping the shorter man's face in his hands. "Don't worry so much, John."
John nuzzled slightly against the hand. "I'm nervous. I've never done anything like this before."
"Like this?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
"I... I've never dated a man. Or a teacher. It's certainly different."
"Oh." Sherlock furrowed his face.
"It's a good different," John insisted. "It's just not something I can openly publicize though, y'know?"
Something flickered across Sherlock's face. John thought it looked like... uncertainty? Sherlock hardly seemed like someone to be uncertain.
"I assumed you were openly gay," Sherlock admitted.
"I'm not."
Sherlock sucked in a breath before asking, "Are you really gay? Or interested in me?"
"I... Sher... how could you ask that?" John stuttered out in surprise.
Sherlock straightened his stance and blanked his face. "It's a fair question, John," he said, pulling all emotion out of his voice and sounding nearly robotic. "Everyone knows I'm a tough teacher. And my class is essential to most majors. You wouldn't be the first student to attempt to use sexual favors to improve your grade."
John clenched his jaw. "Is that really what you think of me? Because I thought... I thought I was here because I felt a strong magnetism towards you that I thought you might reciprocate. But if I'm wrong, please correct me, so I can stop wasting my time."
"John..."
"No. Just, just shut up right now, Sherlock. I like you. A whole lot. That's why I'm standing here, right now, in your bedroom. Am I just another student to take advantage of to you?"
"John," Sherlock whispered. "I've never had any relationship with a student. Ever. I don't have relationships in general. Just you. I mean, there were others, in the past. Not students though. And none of them matter now. Barely any of them mattered then. The only one I care about is you."
John wasn't entirely sure what to say, realizing they had both likely overreacted (embarrassingly so). But he didn't need to say anything, because his mouth was preoccupied as Sherlock's pressed against it, drawing him into a sweet kiss that took away any doubts he could possibly have.
So John and Sherlock had their first argument as their own personal insecurities got to them. I know I didn't really answer anything in this chapter (like about the other one) but I promise that's coming up soon! Review please!