"John, how's the research going?" Sherlock asked as he leaned over John's shoulder to look at the computer screen.
John shook his head in frustration, at not being able to obtain the information Sherlock wanted as well as the closeness of his proximity for he could feel Sherlock's body heat and John became so overwhelmed by the stimulus that the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, as he self-consciously rubbed the base of his skull.
"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked in concern when he noticed John rubbing, and then scratching the back of his neck.
"I'm fine," John snapped wondering when it was time to take another pain pill.
Unconvinced, Sherlock gently moved John's hand away as his long fingers explored the red marks on the back of John's neck. John sat stock still, willing his body not to respond to Sherlock's touch. "John, what shampoo are you using?" Sherlock asked as he moved John's neck to the light where he could examine the little red welts that were starting to crop up on his skin.
When Sherlock began to part John's hair for further examination, John wheeled out of his grasp. "Sherlock, I'm fine let's get back to the case."
Sherlock looked bewildered as he walked across the room to where John sat, "John, I think you are having a reaction to the shampoo you're using. Next time we wash your hair, I should use something with a tea tree base. Yes, yes that should do it." Sherlock said in triumph as he smiled at John.
John suddenly felt as if he couldn't breathe when Sherlock smiled at him. "Sherlock, let's change the subject okay?"
Sherlock looked a little confused, shrugged and then his face lit up, "John, that's it. What kind of wood are cuckoo clocks made of?" Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock rambled on, "Linden wood-Linden-Linden, why does that name sound so familiar? Linden-Linden, oh yes that must be it the Linden Case. John, do an internet search for the Linden Case, check November 2013."
John wheeled over and angrily tapped out the internet search on the computer keyboard, at one point he hit one of the keys so hard that it popped up and wobbled to the side of its usual position. "Here it is, the Linden Case," John said flatly as Sherlock began to read over his shoulder.
John couldn't take any more, "Sherlock, I'm tired I'm going to take a nap." He said and then without another word wheeled out of the room, all the while swallowing down the lump that formed in his throat, for Sherlock hadn't even noticed his departure. The room was cold and John shivered as he wheeled over towards the adjustable bed that Sherlock had bought so that John could maneuver himself in and out of it if he needed to. Every bone in John's body ached as he slid out a side panel from his wheelchair, and then a few herculean movements later he was in bed lying down. "Damn," John thought as he stuck a pill in his mouth, "there's no water in my glass." Not wanting to go through the process of getting in and out of bed again, John bit down and just chewed the pill up, grimacing at its sour taste as it burned its way down his throat.
Waiting for the nausea to pass John finally began to feel the effects of the pill and smiled as he gave in to the relief he felt when it took the edge off. Hours later Sherlock slipped in beside him but John kept his eyes squeezed shut for he didn't want to face him.
"John, I know you're not asleep and we're narrowing down the suspects. So …so are you up to doing some sleuthing with me tomorrow?" Sherlock asked as he leaned his head over John's shoulder.
John rolled over to look at Sherlock and thought that Sherlock must either be the cruelest or the most naïve person not to realize the passion he aroused in John with just one glance. Sherlock furrowed his brows together, "John, your pajama top it's…misshapen…the buttons are all wrong," Sherlock said as he reached out unbuttoned John's pajama top, lined up the buttons with their respecting button holes and proceeded to button them one by one. At one point Sherlock hesitantly reached a finger in through an opening and lightly touched John's chest rubbing his finger over John's sternum until he gasped and rolled out of the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thump. Like a frightened animal Sherlock scrambled up off the floor and fled the room.
"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," John thought, "What have I done to deserve this?"
The next day Sherlock acted as if nothing had happened; however there was a wiry tension in his walk that John hadn't noticed previously for his normally graceful movements were rigid with a spasmodic jerk in his limbs now and then. "He's under great stress," John thought and then swallowed as his mouth became dry. "Oh God, he wants to leave me," John surmised in a panic. "Well, I won't make it easy on him." John thought angrily as he folded his arms across his chest.
John was about to make small talk when to his relief Mrs. Hudson announced that a potential client was waiting to come up. Sherlock nodded curtly, "Send her up."
The client was a beautiful tall Asian woman that John instantly admired, as if she read his mind she smiled back at him and winked after she briefly introduced herself to Sherlock. She then walked across the room to where John sat.
"Well, who's this?" She asked as she leaned in towards John's face her skin smelt like Jasmine and his eyes widened when she slowly licked her lips.
Sherlock was across the room in an instant, "That's Doctor Watson, my husband," he said as he laid a possessive hand on John's shoulder.
"He's jealous," John thought gleefully as he shamelessly began to flirt with the woman. She laughed at everything he said until John realized that it must be out of pity because of the chair. Instantly, John retreated back in his shell as he replied to an especially salacious remark. "That might be difficult seeming I'm in a wheel chair, it's not very sexy the chair…I mean."
The woman's dark eyes glittered in challenge for she was clearly enjoying the fact that Sherlock had gotten up and had begun to pace the room. "Doctor Watson, or may I call you John? I am very limber and I'm sure that with a little persuasion I could stick my…"
"ENOUGH, Get out, I'm not taking your case…we're not taking your case." Sherlock shouted as he pointed to the exit.
The woman pouted, "Oh, no have I offended you? My case is about a severed head that I found in…"
At the words severed head, Sherlock looked up with interest and then sighed, "Please, leave."
The woman sighed, walked over to John, and handed him a business card that smelt wonderful, "Doctor, please let me know if you make house calls." She whispered as her fingers lingered on the back of his neck.
"He doesn't," Sherlock snapped.
"Too bad," the woman drooled.
After she left John sighed and said casually, "Well, she seemed nice and the case sounded just right up your alley."
Sherlock paced back and forth like a caged animal, clearly agitated. "She was lying."
John frowned. "Well, I know one thing she was definitely attracted to me. It's nice to know I am still desirable to someone." John snapped spitefully.
Sherlock held very still and then in two steps he was across the room. Keeling in front of John, Sherlock gritted his teeth and then said in a low voice. "John, my art exhibit concluded two days ago, and it was successful by the way. The cuckoo clock case has been handed over to an inferior colleague, so that I will be able to prepare for my next case. I would like to have studied the details a bit more, but no matter I can see it needs to be attended to immediately." Sherlock said as he pulled the brakes forward on John's wheelchair so hard that the metal sliced into the rubber. In one move Sherlock lifted John out of the chair and said, "John Hamish Watson I am sick of you mooning about how unattractive you are for tonight you will forget about everything and everyone," Sherlock said as he breathlessly carried John to the bedroom and deposited him on the bed. He then straddled himself over John's body and looked deeply into his shocked eyes.
"John, my entire focus will be on you and do you know why?" Sherlock whispered as he unbuttoned his shirt. John shook his head mutely. "My focus will be entirely on you John Hamish Watson for tonight you are my case. Whatever it takes to solve you, thrill you, arouse you, whatever undoes you, whatever makes you scream in ecstasy, John that is my goal and I never lose my train of concentration," Sherlock said softly as he undid the buttons of John's shirt. He then reached over and turned on a small lamp by the bed, so that he could observe every expression on John's face. He then slid in the bed next to the love of his life, sliding his hands over John's skin until his mouth opened as he gasped for air and Sherlock marveled at the power one individual could have over another. He marveled at how John leaned into his touch. He marveled at how he was suddenly unafraid of physical intimacy as John's hands and mouth explored his body, but most of all he marveled at the joy he felt when John became part of him, clinging to him, thrusting into him, holding him, until Sherlock's eyes became as round as saucers as he watched John writhe in pleasure underneath him and then without warning a hurricane of sensations came at Sherlock so fast that he couldn't analyze or compute them and then John reveled when Sherlock arched his back and screamed out begging John for release.