A/N: Another long chapter, two days in a row. I really am trying to make up for a three week absence, aren't I? Anyway, thanks for reading. Please review so I can have confidence to keep this writing streak going.
Warning for sex at the end.
Sherlock wakes up by 4:30 the next morning, in fear that John would get up early and leave out of anger. He watches John for hours, he checks his email, Facebook, Twitter, he even spends some time hacking his work email (just out of curiosity; he doesn't crack it), and sure enough, John wakes up three hours later.
"Mmm," he sighs, not contently. "What time is it?"
"7:30," Sherlock replies, setting his laptop on the floor. Mystery pokes his head out from under the bed, so Sherlock takes a few minutes to let John adjust while he pets the dog.
He feels the bed sag next to him, then he feels John stand. He quickly looks over.
"Where are you going?" he asks, full of fear.
"Home," John says, bending to pick up his shorts.
Sherlock frowns. "Why?"
"Because I'm so fucking pissed off at you that I can't even look at you."
Sherlock shuffles to his knees on the bed. "John, wait, we need to talk about this."
"I don't want to talk; I don't want to be near you right now."
John pulls on his shirt. "Where the fuck are my shoes?"
"You left them at your house," Sherlock quietly answers.
"Perfect," John mutters.
"John, please, can we talk? I don't want you to leave without talking. It's because I lied to you, and I know I shouldn't have, but—"
John finally looks at Sherlock, right into his eyes. "It's because you went and met a fucking murderer, you idiot."
Sherlock frowns deeper. Not at the name, but at John's general tone and the anger radiating off of him.
"When can we talk?" Sherlock asks. He's never so compliant with a fight, usually he fights back, starting the yelling and the arguments. But this time, he doesn't want any reason for John to be more angry.
"I don't know," John says, going to the door. "Don't call me."
"John," Sherlock says, before John exits the room. "I love you."
John doesn't say anything, he just leaves the room, shoeless and all.
Sherlock cuddles with Mystery well into the morning. He finally gets up and showers around 11, and when he gets out, he has a text. He flies to his phone, hoping it's John, but it's Harvey.
From Harvey Lucas: Ayyy, Lock! Laser tag this afternoon at 1, you in?
Sherlock really wants to go, and now he wants the distraction from this fight with John.
To Harvey Lucas: Yeah, sure. Meet you there.
He doesn't get a reply from Harvey, so he leaves his phone in his bedroom while he goes downstairs to waste time before laser tag.
Clement drives both Declan and Sherlock to the laser tag arcade, and Sherlock dodges every John-related question he can. He tells them that the date was fun, and that John had to do family things today. He has no idea if John is going to go to laser tag, so he doesn't say he's meeting them there.
All of their friends are there when he arrives. They're glad to see him, they ask where John is, but he avoids their questions too. Lane is missing too, so he sits next to Olive and rests his head on her shoulder, feeling tired of being out already.
After a while of sitting quietly and watching his friends eat their pizza, Lily sits in front of him and rests her hands on his knees. He glances at her hands, but she doesn't move.
Silently, Lily reaches up and strokes his cheek. Her eyes look concerned, clearly she wants to ask him what's wrong, but she doesn't say anything. He just shrugs.
She places both hands on his cheeks, then pinches his cheeks and pulls his face into a smile. It makes him chuckle, so she smiles widely and hugs him.
When they're almost done with their pizza around an hour later, Sherlock is looking down at his phone and not paying attention. Not until Harvey yells, "John, over here!"
He looks up quickly, seeing John walk towards their group. He looks happy, well rested. It makes Sherlock's stomach ache.
He doesn't move to greet John first. He lets John say hello to everyone and come to Sherlock if he wants to.
Eventually, he makes it over. He stands behind Sherlock and ruffles Sherlock's hair. Sherlock cranes his neck to look up, fisting his hand in John's t-shirt when John looks down. Sherlock pulls, wordlessly begging John to meet him for a kiss, but John only kisses his cheek. Sherlock lets go and feels like crying, knowing that John only sits next to him for the appearance.
Laser tag begins when their pizza is finished, and Sherlock couldn't be more excited. He gets his gear on, which only makes him upset because he has to wear red while John is in blue, then the lights dim and everyone spreads out to hide and take their positions.
They're playing a game that you can be shot as many times as you want without having to sit out, so Sherlock is glad he doesn't have to leave the arena the first time he's shot. It's Olive, and she just laughs and runs away before he can shoot her.
Sherlock runs the opposite direction of Olive, hoping to hide away somewhere that he can see people without being seen. He finds a corner and presses himself against the wall to wait.
He doesn't notice someone standing behind him until he stops breathing and hears someone continue breathing. Fear rushes through him, because it's pitch black in the arena and because he's been extra paranoid since his meeting with Ben.
He wonders if it was Ben, what would happen? Would Ben kill him right here in the arena? Probably, he thinks.
Sherlock turns to the body behind him and sees nothing but the glowing blue piping of the laser gun. It's not bright enough to make out someone's face, other than the fact that it's a boy.
He tries to watch the figure next to him, tries to figure out who it is judging by their size, but he really can't see them at all.
And then the figure steps up to him, his face in Sherlock's. Sherlock holds his breath.
Hands on his hips.
A slow stripe licked up his own plump lips.
Sherlock reflexively opens his mouth and lets out the breath he was holding.
The hands travel up to his face, cupping his jaw and pulling him in for a hard, deep kiss.
Sherlock can't help the moan that escapes him. He pulls the boy, John, tighter against him and wraps his arms around John's waist.
John works his mouth away to whisper in Sherlock's ear. "Scared you, didn't I?"
"Yes," Sherlock says. "I thought…I was afraid you were—"
"So now do you understand why I'm so mad?"
Sherlock nods. "Yes, John, I do. I'm so sorry."
"You understand why that was such a bad idea? Why that was so stupid?"
Sherlock squeezes John in his arms. "Yes. I understand. I get it, I do I promise."
John kisses him again, this time slow and loving. Sherlock can feel his emotion, feel his fear, feel everything it was that made John so angry. He kisses back with all he's got, not even noticing one of John's hands leave his face.
Then, his chest piece suddenly lights up and makes a sound resembling thunder, what it does when shot.
John bursts into laughter, and Sherlock slowly realizes John shot him. He quickly grabs his gun and shoots John back, laughing just as much as John is. When they reset ten seconds later, they both shoot each other again.
After the second shot, Sherlock dives in for another kiss, pushing John against the wall opposite and invading his mouth.
"We didn't finish last night," Sherlock whispers.
"No, because my genius boyfriend informed me that he did something gigantically stupid."
"Tonight?" Sherlock asks. "Please? I'll make it up to you."
"You had better. And I'm talking, like, the most magnificent head you've ever given."
"I can promise that," Sherlock agrees. He kisses John one more time, then says, "I'm sorry, John."
John pets his hair. "I know, baby. I'm still mad, but not as mad as I was. I just had to think it over."
"And what did you conclude?"
"I concluded that I can't, even if I absolutely wanted to, leave you."
"That's a relief," Sherlock says.
"And also," John adds, "That you need to tell someone. Your dad, Lestrade, your brother, tell them all for all I care. Tell them all, that's better."
Sherlock bites his lip. "I want to handle it on my own."
"He's a murderer, babe."
"But I can't prove that, John. They won't believe me."
Sherlock knows the police couldn't find him anyway. Heck, for all Sherlock knows, Ben could be out of the country by now.
The lights flicker in the arena, indicating they've got one more minute.
"We'll talk about it later," John says. "At home."
Sherlock nods. "Okay."
John kisses him one more time. "I love you."
"I love you, too."
They shimmy out of their little nook and head to the entrance to the arena. They lights turn on as they're exiting, and Olive appears next to them.
"You two look better," she comments.
John grabs Sherlock's hand between them. "We are."
Olive smiles once, then moves to talk to Wyatt and leave them for their own privacy.
The friends all sit to get a drink of water, all the couples sitting together like usual. Taylor and Paris sit next to each other, trying to hide their obvious heart-eyes for each other.
"Hey," Declan says to the group. "Movie night tonight? Our house?"
"Harvey and I have to go to his grandma's birthday dinner," Lily says. "That's why we came here so early."
Olive speaks next. "Yeah, I want to go see Lane after this. He's ill."
Sherlock rolls his eyes.
Olive pinches the inside of his arm. "Shut up."
Everyone else offers excuses for not hanging out later that night. Homework, other plans, nobody else can hang out.
Declan turns to Paris. "What about you, mate?"
"Sorry, friend," Paris says, "I have a date."
"Ooooh!" everyone chants.
"With who?" Olive asks, trying to sound neutral and not at all jealous.
Paris lifts an arm and wraps it around Taylor. Taylor smiles widely and all of their friend congratulate them.
Sherlock watches Olive sip from her cup, trying to not look at Taylor or Paris. She doesn't have an angry or hurt expression; she doesn't even look like she's thinking anything. But Sherlock can tell she's a bit upset.
Sherlock pokes her side, where she's ticklish. She grabs his finger and squeezes it, but then she lets go and excuses herself to the restroom. Sherlock wants to follow to make sure she's okay, but then he figures that if she's not then she'd tell him herself. He doesn't wish to pry.
They play laser tag until after 4 o'clock. Of course they have fun, and they all agree to return again in the coming weeks.
John and Sherlock go to Sherlock's house to have dinner with Clement, then a double date with Declan and Ellery. The truth is, John and Declan really want to watch a television show airing that night, and Sherlock and Ellery are there for support. Sherlock and Ellery end up talking about books and their chemistry class, which makes Sherlock happy because John doesn't like chemistry as much as he does.
When the show ends, Declan and Ellery leave to walk the dog, which allows Sherlock and John some alone time. Clement is just in the den, so they don't go to bed just yet, but they stay closely on the sofa and talk about different things, never getting onto the topic of Ben. Sherlock doesn't want to talk about it just yet, not until John asks, which he doubts John will for a while.
When they do finally go to bed, they both decide they need a shower after their afternoon at the smelly arcade. They climb in under the hot spray together, sharing the steam and eventually the soap.
They do it in silence, which is for some reason very sexy, and eventually Sherlock pushes John against the wall and reaches for his cock. He strokes John into full hardness while kissing him at the same time, and John relays his enjoyment by moans and sighs and the occasional near-scream.
Once he's ready, Sherlock kneels in front of John and slowly licks the head of his cock.
"Oh my god, Sherlock…" John sighs, running his hands through Sherlock's wet curls.
Sherlock wraps a hand around the base of John's erection, then just sucks the head with enthusiasm. John watches intently, the sight of Sherlock's jaw working like a baby feeding making him harder and harder with each pull.
Sherlock only takes him almost all the way to the base a few times, which is alright with John. Sherlock doesn't take his mouth off of him for a second, breathing deeply though his nose while sucking gently on the head and stroking evenly with his fist.
But right as John's about to fire off inside Sherlock's mouth, Sherlock pulls off.
"John," he says, his voice thick with lust. "Turn around."
John swallows and licks his lips. He knows what Sherlock wants, and he's secretly glad he just cleaned up.
He turns slowly, Sherlock's hands slicking along his skin. He plants his hands firmly on the wall and spreads his legs when he feels Sherlock pull at his knees to do so.
"Exactly right, John," Sherlock purrs, pressing a kiss to the small of his back. Slowly, Sherlock kisses lower and lower until his mouth is right there above John's tight hole.
Then, Sherlock doesn't waste any time. He flatly licks John over and over until John is practically sobbing, then he tightens his tongue and wiggles it in to where John is suddenly the most sensitive he's ever felt.
"Oh my g-god, Sherlock!" John yells, not caring about being loud with the shower louder over them. "Yes, oh my god, yes! Right there!"
Sherlock takes a deep breath and latches his mouth around John, licking and sucking, turning his tongue, making John moan and shout into the wall.
Sherlock reaches around John and grabs his cock, and John lets go with a strangled cry. He comes all over the wall in front of him, obviously not caring if any gets on Sherlock's shampoo bottle.
Feeling John pulse around his tongue is enough to send him close to the edge, so he reaches down and strokes himself hard while John is still coming. He pulls his tongue without noticing while he comes all over himself.
"Ow!" John cries.
Sherlock unclenches his jaw, noticing a second too late that he was biting John. Biting John's arse. Very hard.
"Oh shit, John," Sherlock sighs. "I'm sorry."
John lets out a loud laugh. "God, must've been intense. Biting my arse without even thinking about it."
Sherlock laughs and opens his eyes, seeing an angry red mark on John's skin, his teeth marks very visible.
"Geez, John, I'm sorry."
John turns around and pulls Sherlock to his feet. "It's fine, really," he says, kissing Sherlock, closed mouthed. "I'm sorry, I just can't kiss you after that."
Sherlock laughs. "Understandable. Let's get out and resume in bed."
They dry off and put on pants before brushing their teeth and climbing into bed. They tangle together under the sheets, holding each other as close as possible.
"I love you," John says.
"I love you too. I'm sorry I upset you so badly."
"I know you're sorry. And you know I can't stay mad at you for long."
"Right," Sherlock agrees. "I believe you told me you'd never speak to me again once a week from the day you turned eight until my tenth birthday."
John laughs. "Why did I tell you that the first time, again?"
"I lit your entire birthday cake on fire."
"Ahh, that's right, that's right," John sighs. "Still wondering how you did that."
"The bakery wasn't using safe edible icing spray paint."
"And you knew that?"
"No, lighting it on fire was an accident. Though fortunate, really, because it would've probably really hurt us to eat."
"I was still mad at you, though."
"Rightfully, too. That was a neat cake."
John laughs. "You've made it up to me."
"Have I?"
"Yes, of course."
"I don't disappoint you as often as I think?"
"As often as you—Sherlock, what are you on about? You rarely ever upset me anymore, you know that. And all the stuff from when we were kids, that was petty things like lighting my cake on fire and throwing dirt in my hair. Never anything life changing."
"That's good to hear, John."
"Sherlock, do you think I'm mad at you a lot?"
"No, not mad, I just…I feel like I disappoint you a lot."
"When? When would you ever disappoint me?"
"Like tonight, for example, when you wanted to watch telly with Dec and I wanted to read. I thought you were upset that I didn't want to do what you wanted to do."
"And then we compromised and you read on the sofa until Ellery started talking to you. See, love? Even if I am disappointed that you don't want to watch telly with me, you still make it up to me by just being there. I don't care if you were watching too, I was so glad you were just there."
"Really?"
"Yes, of course. You don't disappoint me or upset me. You made me mad this week, yes, but once it's sorted, my fear of you getting hurt will be over."
Sherlock takes a deep breath. "Okay, John."
"What happened there? We were laughing about my cake and all of a sudden you're doubting our entire relationship?"
"I don't know. I guess I'm just tired."
"Is there anything else you want to talk about? Anything at all?"
Sherlock shakes his head. Honestly, there's nothing, it's just the leftover fear that John is going to leave him forever that hit him so suddenly.
"I'm not leaving you," John says. "Ever."
Sherlock's eyes meet his in the dark. "Promise?"
"I promised when we were nine and you cried for two hours because I went to a birthday party that you weren't invited to."
Sherlock cracks a smile. "Right, I forgot about that."
"I haven't. And I do intend to keep that promise."
Sherlock presses forward and kisses John. John gladly kisses back.
"I love you," Sherlock says first this time.
"I love you too, baby. More than I think I can ever tell you."
Sherlock hugs John tight, holding him like that for the rest of the night.