A/N: Uploaded early because I'll be busy tomorrow when I want to upload it. Sherlock's on location the next few chapters. Lots of text conversations coming, including a little bit of sexy texting this chapter. Hope you enjoy! Please review!
Sherlock wakes partially confused the next morning. He vaguely remembers a plane ride, seeing as how he was passed out the entire time he was in the air (he made himself sleep only two hours each night leading up to this so he could sleep on the plane), and he remembers falling asleep again directly when he rested his head on a pillow.
He opens his eyes and checks his watch; it's 7 in the morning. He suddenly wakes fully and jumps out of bed, thinking he's going to be late for school, but he just as quickly plunges back under the covers. He's not in England, he's in New York, and he's got an hour before Mycroft wakes.
Sherlock takes a look around the room. It's much different than his bedroom in Mycroft's old flat back in London, of course this one is the guest room. He did wonder how Mycroft and Brook were able to afford a three bedroom apartment in the heart of the city, but the answer is clear when Sherlock notices how old the building is and how dingy everything is. But that's how America is, dingy.
Sherlock takes a deep breath and decides not to leave the bed. He feels much more relaxed than he has all week, even though the issues he left at home are still burning in the back of his mind.
Nonetheless, he doesn't have to worry about Olive or Taylor when he's in New York. This is vacation, and he's going to take advantage.
The first thing begging for his attention on this holiday is the annoyance between his legs. He lifts the covers and gazes down, frowning at the insistent thing staring back at him.
He drops the blankets and throws his head back against the pillow.
Obviously John is awake, so he sends a quick text.
To John Watson: We should have had sex before I left.
He waits patiently for a reply, not expecting to get one soon, but the reply comes not even a minute after he sent his message.
From John Watson: A little warning before you send me messages like this in the middle of math?
Sherlock laughs. John is flustered.
To John Watson: You're lucky I didn't start with a picture.
From John Watson: Remind me to kill you when you get back to England. Speaking of which, what time is it? Why are you up?
Sherlock frowns. John can be such an idiot sometimes.
To John Watson: It's 7 AM here, but I'm on London time still. I've slept in way too late, but only because I had been sleep depriving myself all week.
From John Watson: I was wondering why you were liking my old Facebook statuses at three in the morning the other day.
Sherlock laughs.
To John Watson: Now you know. Now, are you going to participate in this or not?
From John Watson: In what?
To John Watson: What do they call it? Sexting?
He imagines John is blushing furiously about now. It makes him smile.
From John Watson: I'm in the middle of taking a math test, Sherlock. I'm a tad busy.
Sherlock laughs again. John is so entertaining, even across an entire ocean.
To John Watson: I love you.
From John Watson: I love you. So, are you…you know?
Sherlock raises an eyebrow, the same way he would had John said something like that in person. He imagines John asking that while blushing still and swallowing as if nervous.
To John Watson: I could be. What's the difference if I was?
From John Watson: I'm at lunch now.
To John Watson: Go home so we can skype.
From John Watson: Tomorrow night, baby
Sherlock remembers that John has his party tonight, and that he's going to be too busy and drunk to even talk on the phone tonight. No matter, for Sherlock just grows a menacing grin on his face and texts back, edging to fluster John to no end. Sherlock's getting himself hot with the thought of John sending explicit texts in public, around their friends.
To John Watson: For now, I'm going to get myself off without you.
He sees John checking the text, then bashfully holding the phone to his chest in fear that someone's going to walk up behind him and read it. Sherlock laughs, then does as he said; he wraps a hand around his cock and slowly strokes.
From John Watson: I wish I could watch.
To John Watson: You can watch on Sunday night.
From John Watson: I'd rather just fuck you on Sunday night.
Sherlock grins. His cock twitches with anticipation due to John's fantastic participation.
To John Watson: What if I had plans to fuck you?
From John Watson: Did you?
Sherlock spits in his hand and gets a better rhythm going. His mind races with a million different things he wants to do with John, none that he's voiced out loud. Over text, however, he feels differently.
To John Watson: I have plans for you.
From John Watson: Oh?
To John Watson: Plans to open you up with my fingers and tongue, then get you on your front. You'd spread your thighs for me and let me in easy. You'd like that, I know you would.
Sherlock strokes faster to the thought of John reading that text. His back arches off the bed and he kicks the blankets away, feeling his orgasm approaching quickly.
His phone vibrates once again and he focuses just enough to read the message.
From John Watson: I would let you because I want you to hold me down and put your cock in me so hard that I come for days, pulsing around your dick until you can't stand it anymore
Sherlock gasps, shocked that John joined in so thoroughly. His orgasm suddenly rips through him, making his body tighten and writhe on the bed. He feels knocked out for nearly five minutes, until he finally opens his eyes and unhands his softening cock.
He replies to John after he catches his breath and cleans up.
To John Watson: I don't have anything to say to that other than…yes, please
From John Watson: Good orgasm?
Sherlock grins. Of course John would know why it took so long for him to reply.
To John Watson: Spectacular.
From John Watson: It'll be better on Sunday night.
To John Watson: Of course. I miss you already.
From John Watson: I miss you, too. School has been unbearable without you. Everyone really is stupid.
Sherlock laughs loudly.
To John Watson: Told you.
From John Watson: Olive talked to me this morning.
Sherlock scowls, then sits up in bed and slips his pants on.
To John Watson: Not exactly what I want to think about coming down from an orgasm.
From John Watson: Sorry.
Sherlock pulls pajama pants on and gets a shirt out.
To John Watson: A bit annoying that she talks to you because I'm not there.
From John Watson: All she did was ask about an assignment.
To John Watson: Still annoying. She wouldn't have done that if I were there. Our friendship really is over.
From John Watson: I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up at all I know. I've got to go, I can't text in anatomy right now. I love you so much I'll text you after school.
Sherlock frowns and gets his shirt on.
To John Watson: I love you.
Sherlock leaves his phone on the bed when he exits the bedroom. Mycroft isn't out of his room, and Sherlock knows Brook's gone to work already, so he goes straight to the kitchen for breakfast.
Satisfied and refreshed, he practically skips through the apartment while humming tunelessly. He fills the instant coffee maker with water, then presses all the buttons he needs to get it going.
Suddenly, he hears something, or rather someone, in the house. He pauses, half scared and half nervous, and slowly turns around from his post at the refrigerator.
A girl walks down the hall, and Sherlock jumps when she screams in shock.
"Oh my god!" the girl cries. "Sherlock! You're Sherlock!"
Sherlock clutches his chest and catches his breath, not saying anything to her immediately. He just looks at her, figuring out everything about her that he can.
Weathered hands from meticulous cleaning would indicate doctor or maid. She's far too young to be a doctor, so maid, obviously. Mycroft's maid. And a student, of course, because of her New York University sweatshirt. Age: 22.
He notices quickly how much she looks like Olive. Same dirty blonde hair, same freckles, same brown eyes, same 'skinnier-than-she-thinks' body type, which is obvious by her oversized sweatshirt. Could be a boyfriend's sweatshirt, Sherlock supplies in the back of his mind.
She goes right up to him and takes him by the shoulders. He steps back automatically, but she holds on.
"I'm Tessa!" she yells, smiling as wide as she can. She's much shorter than Sherlock, about five inches shorter, but Sherlock still feels small and nervous while she touches him.
"I'm—"
"Sherlock, yeah!" She finally lets him go while backing up further into the kitchen. "Mycroft talks about you all the time," she says. "And there's the pictures, so sure of course I know you!"
"What pictures—"
"I work for Mycroft!" she explains, taking Sherlock's coffee cup and placing it on the island in front of him. "I clean, do laundry, sometimes make him dinner. I'm like a girlfriend, almost, but not, you know?! How do you take your coffee?"
Sherlock just watches her, unable to think of anything to say.
"Black, two sugars? Like Mycroft?"
Sherlock slowly nods.
Tessa laughs. She drops the sugar into the cup and stirs, then pushes it in front of Sherlock again. "Did you want me to wash your sheets?"
Sherlock's eyes grow wide and he blushes.
"Wh—" Tessa laughs again. "No, I didn't mean—I just—I do the laundry!"
Sherlock slowly takes a sip of his coffee.
"Don't worry, I have a brother! I know all about boys, but I just meant that I'm about to wash the other sheets and I'll gladly do yours if you want! I did just change those though, just…Tuesday, I think!"
Again, Sherlock doesn't say anything.
"I know, I'm a bit overwhelming, but…" Tessa leans on the island and looks at Sherlock interestingly. "Tell me about yourself."
"Uhm…"
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"Ahh, seventeen. I remember when I was seventeen. I was a junior in high school that year. Are you in school?"
"Yes."
She smiles up at him. "Got lots of friends? Your brother says you're the second most clever person he knows. That's got to attract a crowd."
"Second most?" Sherlock asks.
Tessa moves to the sink and starts the water. "He says he's the first."
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "Of course he does."
Tessa laughs. "Aww, sibling rivalry. Makes me miss my baby brother. Anyway, why do you keep staring at me? I know you're surprised to see me, but you just spilled coffee down your front and didn't even notice."
Sherlock looks down at his shirt and sure enough, he's got coffee dribbled down the front of his t-shirt. Tessa hands him a towel and he wipes it up.
"Sorry," he says, "I didn't notice I was staring at you."
"I don't mind, of course," she says with a large smile. "It's flattering!"
"You just…you look a lot like a friend of mine."
"Oooh, girlfriend?" Tessa asks. "Now I'm really flattered."
"No, I…I don't have a girlfriend."
Tessa looks confused for a split second, then her face sparks with realization. "Oh, right! You're the one with a boyfriend, Brook's brother's got a girlfriend. I remember now. So then, who's this female friend? You wouldn't be staring at me if she was just anybody."
"She's just…" Sherlock shrugs. "She was my best friend, but last week she told me we need to spend some time apart."
"Getting too close, then?"
"Too close?"
"You're staring at me, she said you guys need to spend time apart. Sounds to me like you two are getting more feelings than you expected to."
"How so?"
Tessa shrugs. "Happened to me once. This boy…oh, he was the greatest thing on Earth! I loved him to death. He was my best friend, but we'd bicker constantly and fight a lot. At first, we thought it was like brother and sister, but after a while we realized it was like an old married couple."
"So what happened?" Sherlock curiously asks.
"We realized our attraction for each other and dated for three years. We broke up civilly but…I don't know, had we not dated we'd still be friends."
"Olive and I aren't going to date. I don't think it's the same."
"Maybe it's not, and I am a stranger you just met!"
Sherlock nods and takes a drink of his coffee again.
"Anyway," Tessa says, "Your brother stepped out to the gym, but he'll never tell you that's where he was, so don't ask him about it."
"Why'd you just tell me, then?"
"Because you would figure it out anyway!"
Sherlock smiles.
"Do you want anything to eat?" Tessa asks. "I can make…I can make you pancakes or…uhm…"
"Eggs?" Sherlock asks, hopeful.
"Eggs, yes! I can do…well, I can only make scrambled eggs."
Sherlock laughs. "That's fine."
"I'm really terrible at breakfast," Tessa tells him as she gets the eggs out of the refrigerator. "Lunch is my strong point. Sandwiches? Perfection. Dinner varies. Depends!"
Sherlock nods in understanding. "I can't cook at all, so I understand."
Tessa laughs. "My brother loves pancakes, so I learned how to make those a long, long time ago."
"How old is your brother?"
"Thirteen. There's a large age gap between us."
"Only two more years than the gap between Mycroft and I."
Tessa eyes him suspiciously. "How do you know how old I am?"
"Oh, I, uh…I guessed. 22?"
Tessa smiles and nods. "Well done, very impressive."
Sherlock smiles back.
When Tessa finishes his eggs, she tells him she's going to finish the laundry then leave.
"I'm also a nanny," she says, "So I've got to go pick up the kiddo to take him to school. I'll be back in a little while to finish the laundry, okay?"
"Thanks for breakfast," Sherlock says as she heads for the door.
"Bye!" she calls back, then leaves the apartment.
Mycroft finally returns well after Sherlock's finished his breakfast. They both return to their bedrooms to get ready before emerging once again to get on with everything Sherlock has planned for the trip.