A/N: Hello, all! Sorry for the super long absence. I've been really busy the past three weeks (travel, being tired after travel, work, family stuff, it's been a long three weeks). Anyway, to make up for it, this chapter is over 4,000 words. I couldn't decide where to split it to make it two chapters, so you get one long chapter. Hope you enjoy.
Warning for sexytimes and almost violence. Also, since there's been a huge gap between chapter posting, just a reminder that according to my timeline, this would be near the end of April, and the boys have one month left of school. Thanks!
John doesn't have to beg Sherlock for some alone time by Friday night. After spending the entire week focusing on school work, their friends, and all around trying to distract himself from accepting John's many offers of cases, Sherlock's so tired of not being alone.
That doesn't mean he doesn't put up a fight.
John watches Sherlock fold another shirt from the clean clothes pile on his bed.
"Can we please do something tomorrow night?" he asks. "Just you and I?"
"Just you and I? We do stuff alone all the time."
"We haven't been alone in what seems like ages. Your brother was in most of last week, Monday you went to Olive's—"
Sherlock hides his grimace at mention of his lie.
"—Tuesday we went out with Paris; yesterday we actually studied, which was all in all very…strange, to say the least; and tonight you insisted on having dinner with my mum. We've hardly been alone at all, love, and I miss you."
"Miss me? I'm right here."
"I know, but…" John sighs. "How about a date? Hmm? Go to dinner? A movie? My mum gave me a bit of extra cash for cleaning out the attic. I want to take you out."
Sherlock gives him a look that he hopes says, 'Oh, please.' "John, that's absurd," he says, "You need to save your money. Put it away. I'll take you out."
"No, Sherlock, really. You pay for everything. You always pay when we do go out for a dinner date, and even if we don't go out, I eat here and waste your dad's money—"
"It's not wasting anyone's money for you to have a healthy meal," Sherlock snaps.
John takes a deep breath. "Look, I didn't mean to fight, okay? I'm taking you out tomorrow night. We'll go for dinner, then a movie, and afterwards we'll have dessert at my empty house before we come here to sleep. Yeah?"
Sherlock gives in. "Yes, John. Of course."
John nods and stands. "Good. I've got to go home, but I'll see you tomorrow."
"Is there anything I need to do for our date?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact." John sweeps a curl out of Sherlock's eyes. "First, you get to pick a movie. Second, you have to dress as sexy as you can."
Sherlock grins. "What do you suggest I wear, then?"
John steps up to him and smiles widely in Sherlock's face.
Sherlock loves this smile. It's so cute, so innocent, so adorable.
But Sherlock knows that the true meaning of this smile is to be deceptive, to trick Sherlock into thinking John is being innocent when in reality he's plotting where and how he's going to fuck Sherlock next.
Sherlock grows an equally innocent smile. "The purple button up, then?"
John lightly kisses his lips. "I was thinking just the same, my love."
Sherlock kisses him again. "I love you."
"I love you too, baby. See you tomorrow."
John leaves him in his bedroom. Sherlock thinks of how thankful he is for another distraction from a case. He wants so badly to get one from John, he knows there are dozens lined up, but he can't give Ben any reason to visit again just yet. With enough time, Ben might get bored of him and not care if Sherlock starts solving cases again, but with the wound so fresh, Sherlock doesn't know what Ben would do. The man is a murderer after all, and Sherlock's the only person who knows the whole truth.
The school day passes quickly. Sherlock and John decline any invites to hang out with their friends, including spending time with Declan and Ellery at Sherlock's own home. They're both very excited for their date, but they do postpone plans for a movie night until Saturday night.
They go home separately after school to ready themselves. Sherlock goes home to shower and re-dress, and he assumes John goes home to do the same. Both boys tidy up their bedrooms, meaning they make sure there are no stray socks lost in the night tucked into their sheets or drool stains on pillow cases.
Once satisfied, both boys go downstairs to wait for the other.
The movie they chose was to start at 8 PM, so they wanted to go to dinner at 6.
At 5:50, John sat down on the sofa to wait for Sherlock.
At 5:51, Sherlock sat with the dog at the foot of the stairs to wait for John.
Minutes later, John checks the time on his phone. 5:55, Sherlock would be there any minute.
Sherlock checks the time on his watch. 5:55, John would be there any minute.
Both boys wait twenty minutes longer before they wonder if the other stood him up. At 6:15, both press send to call the other. Immediately, both phones go to voicemail.
John sighs and gets up off the sofa, figuring he'll walk over to Sherlock's to drag him away from the current experiment that's distracting his boyfriend.
Sherlock growls and gets off the stairs so quickly that Mystery jumps. He looks longingly at Sherlock as Sherlock throws the door open to go find John.
They both stomp down the street, feeling stood up and foolish that he waited for so long. John knows that if Sherlock wasn't waiting at his door at 6 exactly, then he wouldn't be in the mood at all to leave his experiment.
Sherlock angrily wonders why John didn't show. He feels mad at John for maybe forgetting, but he feels upset with himself for maybe doing something wrong that made John not only not want to take him out, but to not even call about it.
They both round their joined corner at the same time, roughly bumping into each other and nearly falling back onto the ground.
"Oh!" John cries.
"Umf!" Sherlock yells, catching himself.
"Sherlock!"
"Brilliant observation," Sherlock replies, defensive.
"Get caught up in a more important experiment, then?" John asks, equally as defensive.
Sherlock stops. "What?"
"Well, clearly whatever you were doing was too important to come pick me up."
Sherlock looks at him, confused. John is the one who forgot him, not the other way around. John said they'd go to dinner at 6, so—
Sherlock stops and starts to laugh, realizing their was no set plan as to who would be picking up who. Sherlock clearly assumed John would pick him up, for it was John's idea for the date and John who was insisting on being the date-giver, whereas John assumed Sherlock would come over when he was ready because John was going to drive and it made equally as much sense for Sherlock to meet him, then they could be on their way.
John crosses his arms over his chest. "Something funny, then?"
"Oh, John," Sherlock says, wrapping his arms around John's neck.
John tenses under his touch.
"I thought you were going to pick me up, and you thought I was going to pick you up. Clearly, it was a gigantic misunderstanding."
John pulls back. "You didn't start an experiment and forget all about me?"
"I didn't do something wrong that made you want to stay home and not go out with me tonight?"
"God no, love."
"Well, I guess we're on the same page then." Sherlock pecks a kiss to John's lips. "Dinner?"
John sighs and shakes his head. "One day I'll be on the same page you are before I get angry about it."
Sherlock grabs John's hand as they walk back to John's house for the car.
"I like the look on your face when you're confused."
"You like it?" John questions. "Why?"
"It's cute."
John shakes his head, even though he cracks a smile. "I thought my confusion made you angry because I'm stupid like everyone else."
"Slow? Less brain function than me? More knowledgeable in things like anatomy and football? Yes, true on all accounts. Stupid?" Sherlock smiles at John, then lifts John's hand and kisses his knuckles. "Not anymore."
They get back to John's house and Sherlock circles the car to get into the passenger side. John watches him, a little smile on his face even though he looks concerned.
"What's gotten into you? Are you high?"
Sherlock laughs and slips into the car. "High? Don't be absurd."
He turns to grab his seatbelt, but John still watches him in disbelief.
"What's going on, then?"
Sherlock turns back to John. He takes a deep breath and says, "I'm happy, John."
He confesses with ease and realizes how true it is. He doesn't need cases, he doesn't need to worry about Ben, he doesn't need to live in fear that Ben is going to hurt someone he loves. All he needs is to focus on his last month of school and John, and he can be truly happy without anything else. For the first time all week, he doesn't feel guilty for keeping his meeting with Ben from John. He doesn't feel the need to find something to distract him from the bursting need to tell John. He just needs John's lips on his, John's fingers touching his skin, John's breath against his face.
John leans over and kisses Sherlock. "I'm happy too, babe."
Sherlock grabs his face and kisses him again.
After long minutes of kissing sweetly, John sits back. "Alright, getting ahead of ourselves. We have dinner and a movie to get through first. You ready?"
Sherlock eagerly nods.
"Great," John says, then buckles his seatbelt, starts the car, and backs out onto the street.
Sherlock chose to watch the new Spiderman movie, even though he wasn't very thrilled about any movie currently showing. He knew it was something John wanted so badly to see, and the thought of John being excited to see it with Brady or Duke or Paris killed him with jealousy. So he reluctantly let John but the tickets, and he insisted on buying John the biggest bag of popcorn available.
When the movie was over, they walked a few blocks away from the theater, then back to the car, just needing a bit of exercise. John talks the entire time they walk, barely giving Sherlock time to agree or offer any sort of input at all. He feels how John feels when he's telling John about something new he researched that day.
Finally, Sherlock gets a chance to speak, so he says, "I do have to say, I would much, much rather watch this reboot of the films than the old ones. And with how much you made me watch the older ones, I'm shocked we don't watch this one more."
John laughs. "I kind of grew out of that, didn't I? Guess we'll have to fix that. I love Spiderman."
"I know you do. I've grown to be quite a fan too, if I do say so myself."
And it's true. After finding out this movie was to be released soon, he did a ton of research on the story of Spiderman, since John had said, "This one will be closer to the comics."
"I know," John says. "This new Spiderman is quite fit, isn't he?"
Sherlock blushes right up to his ears. "I didn't—that's not—John, I—"
John laughs. "Relax, love, I'm joking. And you can fancy him, I don't care. He's quite lovely, and he's British, you know."
Sherlock laughs, too. "He is pleasant to look at." Sherlock nudges John's shoulder playfully. "Not as pleasant as his leading lady, right John?"
John blushes back.
Sherlock grins.
John just laughs again. "Okay, fair enough."
Sherlock grabs his hand again as the car comes into view. "I've had fun, John. This date has gone well."
"It has, hasn't it? A nice dinner, a fantastic movie, and no interrupting text messages from anyone."
"John, I heard your phone vibrate in your pocket during the movie and you haven't checked it. By all means, go ahead, I don't mind."
John kisses Sherlock's cheek, digs into his pocket, and takes out his phone.
He has four text messages. He reads them as they approach the car.
"The first's from Taylor asking if I think you'd be okay if she goes out with Paris."
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "I literally do not care whatsoever who they date. Why do they both insist on asking?"
"Paris asked because Taylor is your friend, he doesn't want to get between that. And Taylor asked for the same reason. It was polite of them, I think. So I should tell her it's fine."
"Yes, yes, by all means."
"Okay," John mutters, getting in the car. He settles in his seat and continues, "The next is from Harvey. Laser tag tomorrow night?"
"Yes!" Sherlock shouts.
John laughs. "Alright, babe. Next is from Duke. Margo broke up with Dane."
"Tragic," Sherlock says, not sounding sorry at all. "Though, it was quite obvious that she was going to."
"How?" John asks, starting the car.
"Shirt sleeves."
John looks at him. "Shirt sleeves?"
"Sure. She always wore sweaters with tank-tops underneath, that way she could take off her sweater and reveal her bare shoulders, showing off as much skin for him as possible without it being her belly or her thighs, which she is self conscious of. She stopped doing that, started wearing regular t-shirts for the past two weeks, since after prom. I'm assuming something bad happened at prom."
"Like what?" John wonders out loud.
"I'd say it has something to do with the way Dane was looking at Ellery, but that's just something I'd assume."
"How was he looking at Ellery? I didn't notice."
"He was looking at her, and glaring at Declan, like he wants to take her from him. Which will never happen, Declan would rather fight Dane than let Ellery go. He's quite smitten with her."
"He loves her."
"Mmm," Sherlock mutters.
"I can't say I'm very sad for Dane."
"I'm not. I do feel bad for Duke. Dane will surely, what's the term? Go crawling back to his brother and beg forgiveness for being so mean while he was with Margo, to which Duke would gladly accept him back because he cares for his brother."
"Of course," John says, focusing on the road.
"Did you have another message?"
"Yeah, read it will you?" John nods towards his phone resting in the cupholder.
Sherlock picks it up and finds it. "It's from your sister."
"Oh?"
"It says, I'm going to tell mum about Clara and I."
John sucks in a surprised breath and shifts in his seat.
Sherlock watches him. "Should I reply?"
"No, no. I'll do it later, thank you."
Sherlock watches him more. The way John is biting his lip, Sherlock knows he's mentally writing up a text that will be a nice way of disagreeing with his sister.
"Why don't you think she should?" Sherlock asks.
"The same reason any boy would be afraid of coming out to his dad. Harry is my mum's daughter, you know? She expects Harry to give her grandkids, a nice son-in-law—"
Sherlock cuts in. "What's wrong with me?"
John flashes a quick smile. "You still can't exactly give her grandchildren."
Sherlock shakes his head. "Technicalities."
John laughs and pats Sherlock's knee. "Anyway," he continues. "I fear what my mum would do about her baby girl being in the same club as me. As us."
"What club is that?"
"Y'know, the gay club."
Sherlock looks at John, watching him intently. "John, you've never used the 'g' word when describing yourself before. Not to me, at least."
"Oh, I…I didn't mean…"
"John," Sherlock says, seriously. "Are you…are you gay?" He sounds offended.
John looks over at Sherlock to see if he's serious. When he sees the gleam in Sherlock's eyes, he knows Sherlock is joking.
"You wanker," John says, squeezing Sherlock's knee.
Sherlock laughs. "Anyway, we're an exclusive club. We don't let just anyone in."
"No? Are their prerequisites? Merit badges? Classes I might need to take?"
"No, but I can recommend an excellent club member who can show you the ways."
John smiles. "Is he hot?"
"I'd say."
"Is he a good kisser?"
"From what I hear."
"Alright," John says, "I'll gladly take some instruction."
"Great," Sherlock replies, reaching over a squeezing very high up John's thigh.
John jumps, but manages to keep control of the car. He grabs Sherlock's hand and squeezes it, saying nothing more while they ride down the street.
They decide to skip dessert and head straight to bed, where John sprawls Sherlock out on his back and prepares him thoroughly before entering his body in one smooth motion. Both boys groan in delight, having not been intimate in a few days, at least. They didn't keep count, but both would agree that it feels like a little bit of forever since they've been in bed.
"Oh god John…" Sherlock sighs, "Don't stop."
John bites at Sherlock's bottom lip and continues his slow, even thrusts. He tries so hard not to focus on the tight heat surrounding his cock, in fear that it'll all be over far too soon, but he can't help what he's feeling down below. The want to drive himself as hard and deep into Sherlock that he can grows more and more intense with each soft sigh from Sherlock's plump, arousing lips.
"John…" Sherlock whispers so delicately.
John digs his fingers into Sherlock's hair, holding tight as he thrusts slightly harder.
Sherlock moves his hips in time with John, trying his best to make it good for John. Of course anything is good for John in this position, and judging by the blissed out look on his face, now is no different.
Sherlock scratches his fingernails down John's back and grips his arse, making John's hips snap just a bit harder.
John buries his face in Sherlock's neck. "Oh, Sherlock…" he moans, "Sherlock, I love you, I—"
Sherlock pushes on John's shoulders until he falls back onto the bed, then Sherlock straddles him and sinks down onto his cock.
"John, you're so hard…"
"How does it feel?"
Sherlock sits up and begins to rotate his hips back and forth. "Amazing, you feel amazing…"
"You too baby," John replies, "So fucking tight…oh, god…"
Sherlock looks down at John, loving the look on his face, the flush of his skin. Knowing that he, and only he, can do this to John, see John like this, it means so much to him. He'd do anything to keep it that way forever.
Sudden fear washes over Sherlock. What if…what if Ben got to John? What if Ben hurt John? What if John grows so upset about Sherlock lying to him that John leaves? What if…
His brain hurts with the thought. He can't lie any longer. His hips still, but John takes it as a cue to plant his feet on the bed and thrust up into Sherlock himself.
"John, wait…I need to tell you something."
"Can it wait about…two minutes?"
"No, stop, I can't go on until I tell you."
With a pained grunt, John stops. Sherlock gets off John and reaches for his pants. They both cover themselves, then John sits against the headboard while Sherlock sits at the edge of the bed.
"What's wrong, Sherlock?" John asks, rubbing his arm comfortingly.
"Look, John, I…I didn't intend on lying to you. I was afraid you'd be upset, so I did, and what's worse is I employed my friend to lie for me."
"What is it, Sherlock? You're scaring me."
"John…I…I met Ben at the library on Monday."
John's hand stops. "You what?!"
"I know it was stupid, I just—"
"Bloody fucking right it was stupid!" John yells, throwing himself out of bed.
Sherlock jumps up too, instinctively reaching for his jeans.
"What the fuck were you thinking?!" John yells.
Sherlock's leg briefly gets tangled in his jeans, but he eventually gets them up his hips and reaches for his shirt. "I had the whole thing under control, John, I—"
John quickly yanks his shorts and t-shirt on before Sherlock can get his shirt on.
"Like bloody hell you had it under control, Sherlock, that man is a fucking murderer! He killed someone you practically knew, and you thought what? He isn't going to kill you because you met him in a somewhat public place?!"
Sherlock slowly backs to the door. John follows.
"Like I said," Sherlock continues, "I had it under control—"
"You went to meet him and you think you were in control? How bloody stupid are you, Sherlock?"
John's words didn't hurt, he's been called so much worse, but John's tone and that he was walking towards Sherlock with murderous eyes made him open the bedroom door and flee.
"It's a good thing he didn't kill you!" John yells as Sherlock runs down the stairs two at a time. "That way I can kill you myself!"
Sherlock makes it to the front door and runs out, forgetting the fact that he didn't have a shirt on and he left his shoes on John's bedroom floor.
He runs all the way down to his house, not pausing for even one second knowing John was right on his heels. It's not that he really feared that John would hurt him. Of course John wouldn't, but John did slap his sister when he found Harry drunk after being a few months sober the first time. So that very small part of Sherlock's brain is telling him, seriously mate just run until you can't anymore because he will catch you and there will be consequences.
Sherlock runs to his front door and finds it locked. He remembers his keys are abandoned at John's, so he frantically bangs on the door three times before he cuts away because John is right behind him. Instead, Sherlock runs around the house, hops the tall fence, and runs to the back door.
John gets to the front door as Declan is throwing it open, so he pushes Declan aside and runs into the house towards where Sherlock will be entering the back door any second.
"Wow, John!" Declan calls, following John.
Sherlock slides the back door open and runs in, but as soon as he sees John, he stumbles back in shock.
"Well?" John demands, hands on his hips.
Sherlock stands up straight and catches his breath.
Declan steps between them, where the piano is. "Anyone want to clue me in?"
"Sherlock thought it was wise to meet up with a fucking murderer and lie to me about it."
Declan's jaw drops. "You what?!"
"There's more to the story!" Sherlock replies.
"Of course there is."
"So, Declan, if you don't mind can I please get at my infuriating boyfriend and beat him to a fucking pulp?!"
Declan steps back and holds his hand out as if to show John the way, and Sherlock darts out of the area and towards the stairs.
John eventually catches Sherlock in Sherlock's room. John tackles him to the floor and sits on his stomach. He pins Sherlock's hands next to his head and bends to be all that's in Sherlock's vision.
"I could punch you Sherlock, I swear I could. How could you do something so stupid? How do you not see that by doing as he says, you're now his pawn? He wants you to be in the palm of his hand to do…god knows what. You can't trust him, Sherlock, don't you see? How could you think you were safe?"
"It wasn't like that John. We agreed to leave each other alone and—"
"And you think you can trust the word of someone who killed another person? Murdered another human being?! You saw the crime scene photos, you saw what he did to Danny? Sherlock…" John's body sags and he lets out a ragged breath. "What if…what if he did that to you…"
Sherlock gets his hands free and wraps his arms around John's neck. He pulls John down, tucking John's face into his neck. He feels John sob against his skin.
"He's not going to hurt me, John. I promise."
"How can you promise something like that, Sherlock? How can you be sure—"
"I just am, okay? I promise I have it under control. He won't come near me again. I'm so sorry for lying to you too, love, I never meant to hurt you."
"I know," John whispers.
Sherlock closes his eyes and just feels John cry against him. He doesn't make any effort to move John, he just rubs slow circles on John's back until John calms.
They get off the floor a while later, remove their clothes again, and get into bed. They don't do anything more than kiss, and when they fall asleep, John holds Sherlock tight while Sherlock stays awake trying to think of a way to get Ben out of his life forever, without any worry of him returning.