A/N: Warning for sex. Which I didn't really mean to happen, but it did. Hope you enjoy! Please review!
Slowly but surely, Sherlock gets to a point where he wants to hear John's voice again. It's not his biggest want, it's not as though he craves it, but eventually even he gets tired of their silent meetings.
It's four and a half weeks after the return, and Sherlock's seen his counselor every afternoon. They talk about the progress he's making, they talk about John, and they talk about Sherlock's friends. He hasn't seen many of them except Olive, but he thinks he's ready to see them all again.
The doctor says Sherlock should try speaking with John in a setting where Sherlock won't feel threatened, for example with other company around. Sherlock agrees, but inwardly he disagrees. He wants it to be a private moment between him and John, and he wants nobody else a part of it. He doesn't say that, though; he just agrees and leaves the office with the idea in his head.
He chooses that night to test how well he's progressed. As he's leaving the office with Clement, he sends John a quick text requesting his presence for dinner. John replies with a smiley face, and Sherlock smiles back at his screen.
John has been so happy lately. Sherlock would hate for something to go terribly wrong and for John to leave, or worse, hate him. John says he would never, and over the past few weeks he's been supportive (except for that blowup on Olive), but Sherlock can't help but fear for the worst.
Clement's phone rings loudly and he reaches between them to pick it up. With a sigh, as if trying to decide whether or not he should answer while driving, he answers anyway.
"Yes, son?"
Mycroft, then. But Sherlock knew that. There are only two people who Clement would ever answer the phone while driving for and the other person is sitting in the passenger seat.
"Okay," Clement says. "Yes, sure. Meet you at six."
With that, he hangs up.
"What's at six?" Sherlock asks.
"Nothing, nothing. Mycroft needs me to meet him to discuss…work."
"Work?" Sherlock asks, knowing that Mycroft quit his job over a month ago. And, judging by how much Mycroft is home during the day, he hasn't gotten a new one.
"Yes. Work things."
"What kind of work things?"
"I don't know."
"You're a terrible liar," Sherlock tells his dad. Clement chuckles. "What are you two keeping from me?"
Clement glances at him. "Nothing, really. It's nothing."
"Okay…" Sherlock says, eyeing his father. There's obviously something.
"Anything else you want to do while we're out?" Clement asks.
Sherlock shrugs and pushes hair out of his eyes. It's gotten long, he hasn't cut it since prom, so it's all the way past his eyes. John seems to like it, but it's driving Sherlock mad.
"Can we stop to get my hair cut?"
"Aww," Clement sighs. "You want to cut it?"
"Yes, it looks ridiculous."
Clement reaches over a tugs at a loose ringlet of black. "Reminds me of when you were a baby. Your mother wouldn't let me cut it, she wanted you to have long black hair."
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "More the reason to chop it all off."
Clement sighs. He doesn't say anything, though the sigh says enough. Sherlock knows his dad hates when he says things like that, even if that comment was far less offensive than anything Sherlock could say about his mother. But not receiving one 'I'm glad you're alive, son' message is enough to have Sherlock hope she never returns.
Clement pulls in to their local barber shop and Sherlock hops out and enters the store before Clement. Everyone practically cheers when they spot him. No doubt everyone the family sees on a regular basis (Clement comes into this shop weekly) knows of Sherlock's disappearance.
Everyone pats his shoulder or hugs him to welcome him home, and even though Sherlock's uncomfortable, he's still glad to see these people again.
Clement leaves to meet Mycroft at half after five, so Sherlock texts John to come over. John is there five minutes later, out of breath from running.
"I…" Sherlock just stares at him trying to catch his breath. "It wasn't an emergency or anything."
John opens his mouth to reply, but quickly stops himself. He's learned over the past few weeks. The habit of not talking might be harder to break than Sherlock anticipates.
Instead, John leans forward and quickly presses his lips against Sherlock's. Their lips smack and John grins.
"Oh. Just eager to get here," Sherlock says.
John excitedly nods.
Sherlock chuckles. "Well, get yourself some water and come upstairs. I need your help."
John quickly darts into the kitchen and Sherlock rushes upstairs.
Sherlock didn't really anticipate John arriving so soon, so he didn't have time to clear his bed off, but he just pushes all the books and magazines to the ground. His laptop is placed delicately on his desk, and by then John is knocking on the door.
"John, please come in," Sherlock calls, sitting on the bed.
John enters with a smile. He looks incredibly happy, and Sherlock is happy to see John so happy. He hopes this doesn't ruin it.
"Here, sit," Sherlock instructs, shifting until his back is against the headboard. John sits cross-legged at the center of the bed.
They stare at each other for a few minutes. Sherlock waits to make sure John's breathing is back to normal and he stops sweating, and Sherlock himself is trying to calm.
John reaches for him and he sucks in a nervous breath, but John's hand passes his jaw and cheek and reaches for a substantially shorter strand of hair. It's long enough to still have the curl to it, but it's much more normal for Sherlock. Still, John looks disappointed.
"It was driving me crazy, I'm sorry."
John licks his lips, then runs all of his fingers through Sherlock's hair until he's cupping the back of Sherlock's head and pulling him forward.
They meet in the middle for a long, slow kiss. Sherlock opens his lips to accommodate John's hot tongue, and John gently yanks his hair the way he often does.
They part after long seconds. Sherlock opens his eyes, but John's are still blissfully closed. It's the best kiss they've shared in a very long time, and Sherlock can tell by the look on John's face that he is very pleased.
"Wow," John mutters.
Sherlock's heart spikes, but not out of nerves. Not bad nerves, at least. Eager, perhaps, happy that he isn't throwing up or crying because of John's syllable.
John's eyes slowly open, as if anticipating the worst. He opens his mouth to speak, but stops.
"Go ahead," Sherlock whispers.
John swallows nervously. "I'm…sorry."
Sherlock smiles. "Don't be."
"You're not…you're…you're okay?"
Sherlock's smile only grows. It's working, he's okay! And John's voice is divine, like silk against his eardrums. He nods.
John's smile reaches across his entire face. "Amazing," he mutters, diving in for another kiss.
They haven't kissed much over the past few weeks either, but Sherlock's not letting that stop him. He climbs onto John's lap, wrapping his arms and legs around John tightly.
John holds him close, stroking strong hands up and down his back while kissing Sherlock like can't get enough. Hands run through Sherlock's hair, John reaches under his shirt and rubs calloused fingers over Sherlock's smooth skin.
Sherlock's body sings. He doesn't know if he feels aroused, because before getting aroused by John was as simple as John smiling at him, but Sherlock hasn't felt aroused at all since his return. He takes a second to catalogue the feelings in his body, but there's nothing more than just liking how close John is right now. And that's fine. He knows John won't push him for more.
A minute later, John turns Sherlock until he's on his back and John's settled on top of him. That's when Sherlock feels John's erection against his thigh and feels bad.
"John, I'm sorry, I—"
"No, no, sshh," John says, cradling Sherlock's head with his arms. "It's fine, I don't want anything. I just…Sherlock, I love you."
Sherlock gaps. He didn't realize until now that he hasn't heard John say 'I love you' in months, and the words feel like lightning through Sherlock's body.
"Again?"
John rubs his nose against Sherlock's. "I love you."
Sherlock brushes his lips against John's, then feels bad again for not helping John's erection whatsoever. "Again, please?"
John licks up Sherlock's lips, sending a shiver down Sherlock's spine. "I love you," he says. "I love you, Sherlock."
Sherlock scratches down John's back, definitely feeling an inkling of desire now. John arches into Sherlock's touch and thrusts his hips down as if he can't control it. Sherlock knows he probably can't; John's mind is officially stuck on his impending orgasm now.
It takes a split second for Sherlock to decide that he wants to give it to John. He doesn't fear John will be angry if Sherlock stops this all now, he doesn't feel guilty for climbing onto John's lap, he just wants to watch John's face transform as he orgasms.
But John stops. His body goes rigid and he climbs off Sherlock.
"I'm sorry," John says.
Sherlock knows he hasn't done anything wrong, that John isn't upset with him. When John stands, he blushes and covers the distinct bulge in his jeans. Sherlock sits up and watches John turn to the bathroom door.
"I'm just going to…" John mutters, reaching for the doorknob.
This isn't what Sherlock wants. He doesn't want John to either will his erection away or take care of it himself before returning to Sherlock.
"John," he quietly says, reaching for the bottom of his shirt.
John turns around and Sherlock yanks his shirt off, tossing it to the floor. Without second thought, he unzips and unbuttons his jeans and pulls them off, too.
John licks his lips, his eyes raking over Sherlock's body. Sherlock knows he's filled out much more since his return, and he's sure John likes what he sees.
"Come here," Sherlock demands, and John slowly steps back over to the bed.
Sherlock scoots to the edge of the bed, where he reaches for John's jeans and undoes them. John pulls his shirt off and Sherlock kisses the skin just below his navel, pulling delicious sounds from John already.
"You really don't have to," John says as Sherlock inches his jeans down his legs.
"Oh, but I want to," Sherlock replies, then without warning he leans in and mouths at the head of John's cock through his pants.
"Ahh, god, Sherlock," John sighs, cupping the back of Sherlock's head.
Sherlock likes the welcome weight on the back of his head. He likes knowing he's already giving John pleasure.
But that's not enough. And he wants to watch John. He pulls John's pants down and licks at his cock while John hisses and gasps, absolutely loving it.
When he's wet enough for Sherlock's liking, Sherlock shuffles back on the bed and pulls John's hips so he follows. Sherlock adjusts them so John is straddling his thighs now, then he reaches between them and slowly strokes John's hot cock.
John groans loudly, slowly thrusting into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock loves it. The feel of John, the look on his face, the taste of his kisses, it's all Sherlock wants. He just wants John. And John clearly wants him.
"God, Sherlock…" John sighs. "Tighter, love, just a—" Sherlock tightens his grip and John moans.
With his free hand, Sherlock reaches up to grab John's arse, which feels tight and wonderful in his hand. He wonders how long until he'll want to fuck John again, how long until he'll want John in him. For now, this is enough, and Sherlock thinks it would be enough for him for a long time.
"I'm so close, baby, oh…"
Sherlock starts to jerk John faster, faster than John's hips are moving, but it's okay to John. John tugs at his hair, licks at his lips, moans wonderfully, and less than a minute later, he's ejaculating all over Sherlock's stomach.
A panic rushes through Sherlock all of a sudden. He hadn't thought this part through, the part where something recently foreign to him will be touching him. He hasn't liked that, he doesn't even want head-kisses from Mycroft that often, but he takes a slow, deep breath and focuses on the look on John's face. His eyebrows knit together, his pupils blown but focused on Sherlock, his jaw dropped open, Sherlock's name spilling from his lips. This is what he wanted.
It takes a minute for John's toes to uncurl against his leg and for John's body to relax. When he finally does, he immediately gets up to fetch a wet clothe from the bathroom to clean Sherlock's belly with.
"I'm sorry," John says. "I should've realized. I mean, seeing your face when you got jam on your thumb a few days ago should've made me realize that you wouldn't want anything like this touching you."
"No, I—" Sherlock's going to say it's fine, but the fact that John read his thought and just knows is so heartwarming to Sherlock that he stops. "Thank you."
John flashes a quick smiles, then returns to the loo to leave the cloth. He gets back to the room and slips his pants back on, followed by his shirt.
Sherlock scoots up to the pillows and takes his own shirt. John sits cross-legged next to him, so Sherlock sits up.
"That was…" John starts. "I didn't mean for that to happen."
"No, I know," Sherlock reassures him. "I did, though. Well, that's not why I called you over. I called you over to actually talk, but this was…that was great."
"Yeah? Even though you didn't…y'know."
Sherlock shrugs. "I don't know when I will again. Is that…is that okay to you?"
John huffs out a laugh. "Yes, of course. I mean, it's not like I only care about getting mine and leaving you to fend for yourself. I love administering your orgasms, but if it's not what you want then that's okay. I mean, god…" John blushes. "It's not like I'm going to expect that, okay? Not at all. If this was a one time thing then I'm happy about it. Okay?"
Sherlock chuckles. "Okay."
John nods. "Good."
"John?"
"Yes?"
"I love you too, by the way."
This makes John smile widely. He leans over and kisses Sherlock's cheek.
"Well," Sherlock sighs a minute later. "I guess I'd better feed you now?"
"Oh, you do know how to treat a lad."
Sherlock laughs. "Only because I'm starving too." He moves to get off the bed. "Come on, my dad left us money for takeaway. Then there's a bee documentary on—"
John groans. "Not with the bees again!"
Sherlock's about to open his bedroom door, but he pauses to look back at John. He glances at John's underpants and smirks. "I think you owe me," he says, then quickly exits the room.
"Oi!" John cries, rushing after Sherlock. "That's blackmail!"
Sherlock laughs. He's glad this evening shaped up to be unexpected but good. He's glad John is happy, and he's happy, so that's all he can really hope for.