Author Notes: This isn't the final chapter of this story. The boys had different plans, so there will be another one, as soon as I find the time to write it. For now, I hope you enjoy this one. :) Let me know what you think.^^
Doubts
"So, a triple murder behind closed doors." John rubbed his hands as they left the cab and walked towards the crime scene. It was impossible to miss the flashing lights of the police cars and the neighbors that had gathered in front of the barrier tape and were trying to get a good look at what was going on in house Nr. 8. John scrunched up his face in disgust as he noticed that some people were even trying to take pictures. Like a gruesome murder was some kind of reality show.
"Yes, Scotland Yard obviously doesn't have a clue as to what happened - like usual It sounds rather interesting, but it might also be very simple. Just because Lestrade isn't able to solve a crime, doesn't mean it's very complicated." Used to Sherlock's rants against all the police officers in general and Lestrade in particular, John only shook his head with a sigh. It wouldn't be of any use to scold Sherlock for... being himself. John might not agree with Sherlock, but that didn't give him the right to reprimand his boyfriend.
Boyfriend!
A grin tucked at John's lips as he glanced up at Sherlock - Stunning as always in his long coat and with his slightly tousled curls - and almost couldn't believe that they were together. Nine days had passed since their first kiss and this was the first time that they had been called to a crime scene since then. Without thinking, John reached for Sherlock's hand and interlaced their fingers. Startled blue eyes looked down at their hands as they passed through the mass of curious onlookers and John sent Sherlock a reassuring smile. It wasn't the first time they held hands in public, but it was the first time that someone who knew them, was going to witness it. Honestly, John was a little nervous about some of the officers' reactions, but he wasn't going to hide the nature of their developed relationship like he was ashamed of it.
"Three months sooner and I would have won enough money for a trip to Scotland," Sally Donovan welcomed them as they ducked under the police tape.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Sally. Surely, Anderson would have loved to spent a romantic weekend at a secluded cottage, although I have heard that rug burns need a lot of time to heal." It was hard to keep a straight face, when Sherlock was like that - although John shouldn't find it amusing when he insulted people - but at least he managed to keep his laughers inside as Sally frowned at Sherlock. "I'm sure you know what you are talking about. Good for you that you have a doctor at home, right?!"
John snorted and Sherlock glared down at him, although the faint blush that colored his pale skin destroyed its effect. "Don't worry, I`m taking good care of him."
If John had thought that Sally was going to take the bait and sent another barb their way, he was surprised, when instead her eyes softened. "I'm sure you do, John."
Even Sherlock uttered a small gaps of surprise as she winked at them and then hurried off to one of the other officers, gesturing for them to enter the crime scene. "Will wonders never cease?" John muttered, but wasn't surprised when he didn't get a reply as Sherlock was already busy taking in all the information he could gather from the house. It was a big house. Bigger than your average houses in central London and John concluded that the habitants had to be rich to own that building. At least, they had been rich at some point in their lives, when they had built it... or maybe their parents had built it, John couldn't say. Nevertheless, he was sure that Sherlock had already deduced just how well off the inhabitants of that house had been. He was taking in everything, from the height of the entrance hall to the quality of the rug in the room, they entered next - and all the minor details John didn't even spot.
"Interesting! That looks promising!" Sherlock didn't even spare a glance to Lestrade as he let go of John's hand and hurried over to the three bodies, ignoring Anderson's protests as usual. And as usual, John stayed a little behind, watching as Sherlock bent over the bodies - two men and a woman - which were sitting peacefully in their armchairs. If the house hadn't been swarmed by police forces, it would have been easy to believe that they were just napping in front of the fireplace.
"So, you are finally together." John turned to look at Greg, who had come to stand next to him and was watching Sherlock as he sniffed the face of the woman. "Yes." John nodded, not sure what else to say. The whole of Scotland Yard had to know by now that they were together. Not only, because Sally had seen them holding hands, but most other police officers had as well. No matter how much Sherlock ranted against them, most of the officers weren't so stupid that they couldn't spot the obvious.
"Rosy faces and hands, looking like the flourishing life, if they weren't dead." John chuckled as he picked up some of Sherlock's murmuring. He was aware that it was a bad habit to show his amusement at a crime scene, but he couldn't really help it. Not when he loved watching Sherlock in his element.
"And you didn't think it necessary to call me and share the happy news?" An embarrassed blush spread over John's features as he focused his whole attention on Greg. The DI didn't look particular angry, only a little disappointed and curious.
"It's been nine days and... everything was so new that I just..." John shrugged apologetically and hoped that Greg understood what he meant. Entering a new relationship was always exciting and a little nerve-wracking. Add Sherlock Holmes to the mix and all these emotions were doubled, but not for the reasons most people would assume. Really, John furrowed his brow, Sherlock wasn't more demanding than his former partners and they were used to each other after almost two years of living together. No, it was just... everything was... so intensive where Sherlock was concerned. Probably because John had never before been so terribly in love with anyone else before. A smile grin tucked at the corner of his lips. He couldn't wait for his next chance to snog Sherlock on the couch and then cuddle up to him in front of the TV. Preferable with a glass of red wine to enjoy their evening.
"I hope that you won't only be with him until the novelty of it has abated." There was an unmistakable warning in Greg's tone and John frowned up at him. "If you think that I have entered a relationship with Sherlock to sate my curiosity then you are mistaken, Greg. I don't plan on letting him go again, now that I have him." John's answer - although a little possessive - seemed to appease the DI as he clapped John's shoulder and nodded at him. "Good, because I'm glad that Sherlock has finally found someone. I hated to watch him being on his own for all these years." They both glanced at the detective in question, who was busy examining the punch. The forensic team was waiting patiently - more or less - at the far end of the room, for Sherlock to finish whatever he was doing. They had all learned the hard way that it wasn't a good idea to get in the way of the only consulting detective in the world, when he was looking for clues.
"John, you know that..." Greg coughed embarrassed and nodded meaningfully in Sherlock's direction. John didn't have to be a genius to gather what the DI wanted to ask him and that he didn't know how to go about it. "Yes, I know that he doesn't have any experience in... the physical aspects of a relationship and I won't push him to do anything, he isn`t ready to do. Promised."
The smile Greg sent his way - warm and relieved - made him even more likeable to John. He had always known that the DI liked Sherlock, but it was a little different to have an actual proof for Greg's... brotherly affection towards Sherlock. Really, Greg would have made a better older brother than Mycroft, but John would keep that to himself. He didn't need Sherlock to treat Greg to the same insults he usually reserved for Mycroft.
Hopefully, Mycroft wouldn't decide that he had to have a heart - to - heart talk with John, now, that he was Sherlock's boyfriend. John shuddered at the idea, especially since he was certain that the older Holmes wouldn't have any problems deducing that it wouldn't take much longer until John and Sherlock went to bed together... in the biblical sense. They had already shared a bed - Sherlock's - on four separate occasions and it was only thanks to Sherlock's dream of how his first time should go that they hadn't indulged in any sexual acts. Of course, John mussed - while he watched Sherlock examining the rug with his magnifier - that wasn't the only reason. He was certain that Sherlock was up for lovemaking, but... John wanted to make Sherlock's first time as memorable and perfect as possible and he was still gathering ideas for that special occasion.
"It's not a triple murder," Sherlock announced as he came over to them and ensured that the attention of every single police officer was on him. Greg frowned at that. "How..."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and John prepared himself for one of his lengthy explanations - spiked with sharp insults at everyone - when Anderson's voice cut in. "Of course, it was murder. They were all obviously poisoned."
Sherlock didn't even look at him and John was relieved that he had chosen to ignore Anderson for once. "Yes, they were poisoned and they took the poison themselves - cyanide, their rosy skin color is a give away... but I'm not surprised that you didn't notice that. I wonder how you even passed your medical exam, when you..."
So much for ignoring Anderson, John thought as the forensic scientist bristled. "Maybe, I don't recognize every poison at the color of the skin of the victims, but unlike you," he pointed a finger at Sherlock. "I have a private life."
Bored, Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Which involves stalking the new trainee, because Donovan doesn't want to be the substitute for your boring wife anymore?!"
John sucked in a deep breath as he watched Anderson turning white with anger. An explosion of some kind appeared unavailable, but John still wasn't prepared for the next words of the forensic scientist. "At least, any new lover of mine, won't have to deal with an inexperienced virgin. I wonder how long Doctor Watson is going to stand your fumbling, Holmes, until he gets sick of it and moves on to someone more experienced. A virgin, at this age, is only interesting until he is deflowered in every possible way! And if you keep him waiting longer then you won't even experience that... ever!"
John gaped. Obviously, Anderson had stood close enough to overhear Greg's and his conversation about Sherlock's - so far - nonexistent sex life. Still, John hadn't expected Anderson to use it against Sherlock like that.
"GET OUT!" Greg's shout got Anderson stumping from the room, while muttering insults under his breath. A shame, John would have loved to give him a piece of his mind - or a good beating, really. He glared at the door, through which that stupid idiot had fled and swore to himself that he would catch Anderson alone at some point and then...
"They killed themselves, because they weren't only financially ruined, but they were also in a ménage à trois and it was about to come to light. Since Miss Hunter and Mr. Hunter were siblings it would have been a scandal. Therefore they took their own lives." Sherlock's voice was perfectly calm as he laid out the facts for them, but John knew him too well to buy the act. His face was paler than usual and his hands were trembling as Sherlock clasped them behind his back.
"Sherlock," John started, unsure what to say to make him feel better when Sherlock turned away and marched towards the door. "I'm sure we will find enough evidence for everything in the rooms upstairs."
Before John or Greg could protest, Sherlock was hurrying towards the staircase and they were both forced to follow him. John sighed as he came to realise that he wouldn't get a chance to talk with Sherlock until this case was closed. Nevertheless, then he would make sure that Sherlock understood that Anderson's words didn't even come close to how John was feeling about Sherlock, since the words of the stupid arsehole had obviously hit home.
OOO
It took them longer to get back to Bakerstreet than John had anticipated. Usually, Sherlock didn't bother with looking for evidences, after he had solved a case. He had always left that tiresome work to the police men, but not this time. They had put all the evidence for Sherlock's deductions together for over three hours and John would have been a fool, if he hadn't connected Sherlock's strange behavior to Anderson's insults.
John bristled as he recalled what that stupid bastard had said to Sherlock's face. If Greg hadn't sent him away, John would have beaten the living daylights out of him. Thankfully, none of the other officers had taken the chance to verbally abuse Sherlock with their newest knowledge. Sally had even brought them a coffee to go and clapped Sherlock's shoulder on her way through the rooms. And Sherlock... John sighed quietly as he followed him up the stairs to their flat. His decision to stay at the crime scene for longer than necessary, aside, Sherlock hadn't behaved strangely. Still, John didn't want to fool himself and believe that the idiot's insults hadn't left any scars. Even if Sherlock had been able to brush Anderson's comments off like an irritating fly, John would still make sure that Sherlock never doubted how much he was loved and that he didn't care if they made love tomorrow, in a month, in a year or never.
"Sherlock," he started when the door was closed behind them, only to find said person all over him at once. John gasped when Sherlock pressed him against the wall, pinning his arms above his head with one hand and grabbing at his hairs with the other. The kiss was rough and deep, underlined by a wildness that had never been there before. John panted against Sherlock's lips when his mouth was plundered by an agile tongue. His mind didn't have a chance to process what was happening as most of John's blood rushed southwards and left him without higher brain capacity for the time being. The whole length of Sherlock's body was pressed to his and it only increased John's arousal when Sherlock grinded against him.
"God!" A hoarse moan fell from his lips as Sherlock pushed John's legs apart and inserted his own between the spread thighs. The friction against his - still imprisoned - erection was heavenly. Fantastic. John hadn't felt so turned on in a long time. He spread his legs wider and leaned more heavily against the wall while Sherlock snogged John to an inch of his life - or so it felt. A little voice in his mind whispered to John that he should take the time to think and that it wouldn't be wise to get carried away. He ignored it as more heat pooled in his loins and only concentrated on the warmth that radiated from Sherlock's body and how his every touch lit John's nerve endings, until he believed that he was on fire. That was, until elegant fingers unbuckled his belt and moved to the zipper of his jeans.
John's eyes snapped open and his stomach lurched as he met Sherlock's gaze. There was so much desperation in these expressive, blue eyes that John could have easily drowned in it. And not only desperation, John noted with a sinking feeling, but also fear... panic, really. Whyever Sherlock was doing this, it became apparent that it wasn't for the right reasons.
"Sherlock!" John broke free from the grip of his friend and caught his wandering hand in his, before Sherlock could reach his goal.
"You don't want... You are hard and yet you don't want... me..." Sherlock`s voice cracked as he stared down at John's half opened jeans. "No, that's not it... let's sit down, Sherlock." Blue eyes looked at him with a mix of frustration and apprehension, but their owner still nodded, although he looked like he was led to the electrical chair, when they moved over to the couch.
"Hey love," John put an arm around Sherlock's tense back, after they had sat down and drew him closer, until the mop of dark curls was resting on his shoulder. Wary eyes peeked up at him, apprehension written all over Sherlock's beautiful face and John instantly hated it. Sherlock shouldn't look insecure. Sherlock especially shouldn't look afraid of John's reaction and John would be damned if he wasn't able to erase that look and all the negative feelings which were etched in the lines of Sherlock's face. But firstly he had to know exactly what was going through Sherlock's mind, although he already had an suspicions.
"What did bring this on, sweetheart?" John had found out a few days ago that Sherlock rather liked being called endearments and their usage appeared to help Sherlock relax - at least a little. He snuggled closer to John, but still held himself tense, his lashes overshadowing his eyes when Sherlock answered. "You liked it."
John raised an eyebrow at that. "Yes, I did, but that doesn`t explain why you did it."
"Of course, it does." There was a defensive hint in Sherlock's tone, but he still didn't meet John's gaze. "You like sex - any kind of sex - and you deserve to have it, although," A faint blush rose in Sherlock's cheeks and John had trouble catching the next words as they tumbled from Sherlock's lips. "I probably won't be good at it... at first. But I'll learn and get better and..."
"Stop!"
John pressed a finger to Sherlock's lips to prevent him from spurting anymore nonsense. Greg would better make sure that Anderson kept out of John's sight for the foreseeable future, if the DI didn't want to arrest him for manslaughter. John forced a deep breath into his lungs and willed himself to calm down - for Sherlock's sake. Gently, he urged Sherlock to look up and meet his gaze. The helplessness mirrored in these incredible eyes made John's heart ache in return. He had to wipe that pained look from Sherlock's face, otherwise his insides would be torn apart by it.
"Love, I like sex, you are right about that, but," John exchanged the finger on Sherlock's lips with his own for a brief kiss. "I'm not a randy teenager anymore. I quite enjoy cuddling on the couch, kissing you and falling asleep next to you. Didn't you deduce that?" The last part was spoken teasingly and Sherlock's lips curved up in reaction, before his face fell again. "I know that you enjoy it, but you... you can't be sexually satisfied." The with me wasn't spoken, but John could hear it nonetheless. Sherlock was afraid that he wouldn't be able to please him... and how stupid was that?! Really, if the situation was only a little different, John would have laughed at the assumption. As it was, he cupped Sherlock's cheeks with his hands and kneeled sidewise on the couch, so that their faces were only inches apart.
"Listen, Sherlock, I haven't accepted the invitations of women - and men - that only wanted a one - night - stand in months, because I'm not interested in meaningless sex. All this time, I was pinning for you - probably even longer than I realised - and I wanted to have a relationship with you. Back then, I didn`t even know if you wanted to have sex at all and you know what, love?!" Some of the apprehension had drained from Sherlock's face and a hopeful gleam was flickering in his eyes as he shook his head slowly. "I would have wanted to be with you, even if you hadn't been interested in sex. Alright, I would have wanked from time to time, but it would have been enough. You are more than enough, Sherlock! You. Are. Special!" John emphasized his words with a lingering kiss and sacked in relief when Sherlock melted against him.
Somehow they managed to lie down on the couch - Sherlock half on top of him with his head bedded on John's shoulder - without one of them falling off it. "I don't want you to throw away your - our - first time, because of something that degenerated monkey has said." A giggle - Sherlock would deny that he giggled later- was torn from Sherlock at the insult - directed at Anderson - and John smiled fondly at that. "You have dreamed so long about your first time and I want to give you exactly what you want." He pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead and ran his fingers through tousled curls. "I'll make it as special as possible for you, love. And then we can try whatever else you want to do."
John half expected Sherlock to tell him that he wasn't sixteen - year - old girl and that he didn't have to plan his deflowering in detail, but no protests were forthcoming. Instead, warm lips were pressed to his jaw as Sherlock sent a cheeky grin his way. "I don't know if we have enough years ahead of us to try everything I have in mind." The remark was definitely teasing and John found that he preferred that side of Sherlock to his insecure and vulnerable self - a lot. "I'm sure we will manage somehow and I might have a few ideas of my own, as well." Blue eyes shone with interest at that and John breathed another kiss to Sherlock's lips as he settled more comfortably against the cushions. There was no doubt that Sherlock was ready to become more intimate with John - probably had been for years - but nothing would happen tonight.
Soft lips nuzzled his throat, stubble scratched against his skin and John closed his arms more tightly around Sherlock. No, not tonight, but soon. It would be soon and it would be special, John would make sure of that.