A Doctor in My Bed Part 2

The first thing Sherlock noticed when he woke the next morning was he was painfully alone in his own bed. He groans quietly, refusing to open his eyes. It seems like such a tiresome thing to do after his arms stretched out to figure out just how alone he was. Not even a sound stirring from anywhere outside Sherlock’s bedroom, or within the flat.

It must have been a dream; Sherlock’s mind replays the events from last night, events he must have dreamt of. If he had not, wouldn’t John be here right now? Wouldn’t John- even if he left the room to use the loo or make a cuppa, make some sort of noise?

He groans once again and rubs the heel of his hands into his eyes. Stupid, Stupid dreams always crushing when you wake from them. When the reality sets in and all you can do is simply feel the loss of a never existing thing. Sherlock found himself rolling over onto his stomach letting his eyes open lazily. A sharp pinch of his skin near his nipple makes the Detective push himself up by his elbows in a bit of shock to look at what the hell did that to him. He was irritated already and this was definitely not going to- Oh.

Sherlock’s eyes widen his body now fully alert and awake. A shimmering silver color comes into view and Sherlock quickly identified as John’s dog tags, lay between him and the bed, draped around his neck. The pair of dog tags that John had draped around Sherlock’s neck last night – during his dre- Oh.

“It wasn’t a dream.” Sherlock mutters bringing his hand between him to grip the dog tags between his thumb and forefinger so he could turn them over- inspecting them in a bit of awe.

Captain John Watson – Fifth Northumberland fusiliers.

“Mmm,” Sherlock hums in the back of his throat before turning over to lay on his back bringing the dog tags along with him so he could look up at them. If it were not a dream, where was John now? Sherlock wondered his brain a bit sluggish from waking.  

With an audible sigh Sherlock pushes himself up to the sitting position so he could look about his room as if John were hiding in a corner, before he tosses the sheets away and swings his long limbs off the side of the bed to stand. Starker’s, Sherlock gives a long relaxing stretch of his muscles before finding his ruined shirt and trousers form last night sitting in a neat pile at the end of his bed. Walking over to it Sherlock lifts the shirt up to inspect it.

Defiantly not a dream then, Sherlock thought fingering the torn button holes before dropping the fabric back to his bed. With another sigh Sherlock turns to slip the sheet from his bed so he could cover himself up like a snug burrito. Careful to tuck everything that was important away behind the sheet Sherlock makes his way out of his bedroom to find the kitchen was empty as was the bathroom. Stepping into the quite kitchen a paper taped to his microscope caught his eye, curious Sherlock made his way to it.

It was a note for Sherlock from John.

Apologies for having to wake alone, I have the clinic today and didn’t want to wake you (you really need to get more sleep) Afraid you will have to make your own coffee mate. Be home later, text if you need me. Ta’ JW.

John’s neat hand writing stares back at Sherlock for a few minutes until Sherlock is sure he had every word to memory. Sherlock felt a bubbly feeling rise up through his chest- it was unfamiliar and made him uneasy. His fingers curled the edged of the note as if to crumple the paper but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to. Instead Sherlock placed the note on the table and made his way back to his bedroom so he could collapse on his bed- his bed that still smelt of John.

It wasn’t a dream.


*


Sherlock dressed and freshly cleaned sat with his legs stretched out and his hand steepled under his chin as his mind wondered. He had spent the better part of the morning replaying everything that had happened last night- every detail sorted out and placed under a scope so Sherlock could dissect it, before he annoyed himself to shower and dress. The absence of John made things somehow worse than better- without waking to John they had missed their chance to talk about it. To address the elephant that will now sit in the room with them until they stabbed it with the harpoon.

The situation made Sherlock- nervous. Something he did not like to feel, nervousness would lead to uncertainty and that wouldn’t help anything. Yet he couldn’t seem to help it- what if John waited all this time- leaving Sherlock alone to think- then rejected him?

Rejection was not the problem- Sherlock had already factored that as an end result. What upset him more than the idea of John not wanting him was the fact he did not actually know if John didn’t want him. Not being able to figure it out drove Sherlock to feel nervous- emotions such a dull abnormality to the human being.

Sherlock absentmindedly dropped one of his hands down to touch the cool metal that was still draped around his neck. He couldn’t bring himself to actually take John’s dog tags off- when he had gripped them earlier to slip them off over his head while standing in John’s room with every intention of setting them on his end table, Sherlock’s hand froze. After a few moments of just standing there Sherlock felt foolish and gave up tucking the dog tags under his purple dress shirt and left John’s room to settle in the sitting room where he was now siting.

With a sigh Sherlock closes his eyes for a brief moment- a picture of John hovering over Sherlock. His blonde hair spiked out and matted at his temples from sweat. Sherlock could picture the arch in John’s spine when dipped his head down to assault Sherlock’s neck to leave love marks- love marks Sherlock was failing to hide with the collar of his shirt. He could feel the light bump of John’s hips hit against his own as he thrusted forward with Sherlock’s name always on the tip of his tongue. The way John’s mouth felt when he-

A ringing sound startles Sherlock, his eyes snapping open to spot his mobile buzzing on the table a near him. Standing gracefully Sherlock took a breath and willed his arousal away as he snatched up his mobile and answered it.

“Sherlock Holmes.”

It was Lestrade informing Sherlock on a murdered woman near Waterloo Bridge, the second within two days both dumped apparently and dressed in workout clothes. It did not sound very interesting to Sherlock and he would have passed any other day but today- today he needed a distraction. A distraction this simple case could give him.

“Will you come?” Lestrade asked sounding a bit irritated Sherlock figured he found out about his wife and the gym teacher after all.

“Of course, text me the details.”

He hung up and retrieved his coat and scarf before exiting his flat and hailing a cab. He decided to text John- though at first the idea seemed a bit stupid to Sherlock. John was neither his mother nor his handler in need of knowing his ware bouts if he pleased to go out on his own- Sherlock was a grown man (at least sometimes). Sherlock figured it didn’t matter if it were irrelevant that John was none of these things. If the case was half interesting he might not be home by the time John came back from the clinic and it seems part of John’s nature to worry about him. Not to mention they were supposed to have the talk.

Have been summoned by Lestrade, double murder might not be home. SH

What Sherlock was not expecting was a reply from John.

Sounds interesting JW

Sherlock stared down at his mobile for a moment before he started to type.

Hardly, but I was bored at home alone. SH

Sherlock glances out the cab window watching London pass by and his mobile beeps again.

Too bad I had work today, I could have distracted you. JW

Sherlock felt his stomach flop and a heat rise up from his chest to his cheeks.

Is that a flirtation? SH

Maybe, a bit not good? JW

I don’t know. SH

Right, I need to get back. JW

Yes, and I need to think about the murdered women. SH

Text me if you need me. JW

Why would I need you? SH

No reason at all. JW

Sherlock wondered if that was the wrong response- his heart hammered a bit faster against his ribs as he thought this. I’m already buggering things up, Sherlock thought pressing his mobile to his lips before typing to John one last message.

You know I always need my blogger. SH

After sending it Sherlock shoves his mobile away to try and focus on the details Lestrade had given him. Murdered women, Sherlock thought, that is my area- not phone flirting with my flat mate.

The cab felt as if it took ages to make it Waterloo Bridge where Sherlock found Lestrade hovering around talking with a few other blokes as Anderson and Donavan took no notice of his arrival while they flirted near the Forensics van.

“Lestrade,” Sherlock approached him eager to finally be distracted- if possible.

“Ah, Sherlock body is over here.” Lestrade looked a bit more pleased then he sounded on the phone, as he motioned for Sherlock to follow him as if a dead body wasn’t obvious.

The woman was face up and straight as a board with not a single detail out of place to the untrained eye. Her outfit was obviously changed- the murder had redressed her after she was dead, interesting. Sherlock bent down to inspect her. Her hair had been brushed and neatly placed around her pale face- her makeup was fresh- also done after death. The murder seemed to be taking care of her for some reason. Her skin smelled of soap as well- not only did he redress and do up her make up the murder washed her clean- could be to remove evidence but that seemed a bit not right. Her body laying so close to the water, when the tide raised it would compromise her body and any physical evidence.

Sherlock noticed how her clothes were bit too big for her body and her muscle mass did not suggest that she actually worked out. The woman was in her twenty’s, naturally thin- with a rather unhealthy diet, she would never have walked into a gym. Sherlock lifted her left hand; unmarried- no tan mark even if she removed it- she had never done a hard works day in her life.

There was no damage to the outside of the body- no bruises- no head trauma- nothing she seemed rather untouched. Poison?  Too soon to tell.

Sherlock stands to face Lestrade who was standing silently with his arms folded over his chest watching Sherlock work.

“You said she was the second?”  Sherlock questions pulling his gloves off and shoving them away in his coat.

“Yeah, the first one was found about ten yards that way, yesterday.” Lestrade points and Sherlock took a glance in that direction. Claiming territory? Or they live nearby? Need more data. Sherlock thinks walking past Lestrade as he speaks.

“Right I need to see the first woman.”

“Alright, you have any ideas?” Lestrade questions following after Sherlock, “If I’m right you have a serial killer, which is why I need to see the first woman.” Sherlock rolled his eyes as Lestrade sighs and falls in step beside the taller male.

“Sherlock, are those hickeys?” Lestrade’s questioning brings Sherlock to a halt so he could turn to face the grey haired man.

“Pardon?” Lestrade furrows his brow with a small smirk on his lips at the way Sherlock’s face flashed from confusion to fear before returning to emotionless. As far as Lestrade was concerned Sherlock was guilty- he was a detective after all, and that amused Lestrade.

“That right here, are those hickeys?” Lestrade points at Sherlock’s neck and Sherlock brought his hand up to his neck a presses into the bruised skin- a sharp pain hits him. They were in fact hickeys- John’s hickeys from last night.

“Of course not Lestrade- now about that dead body,” Sherlock walked off shrugging off the look of pure delight on his face as he watched Sherlock.


*


“Do you need anything?” Molly pops into the lab where Sherlock stood over the dead woman after examining her. She was a blonde like the second- never done hard work and naturally thin. From what Sherlock could tell she was cleaned and dressed like the second as well the only seeming difference was that the first woman on the table before him was that she did go to the gym on a regular basis. So it was possible the murder attended the same gym as her and he developed a type- that’s why he dressed the second that way.

“Sherlock?” Sherlock turned to face Molly,

“Was there anything with the body besides her clothing?” Sherlock questioned pulling his mobile out of his pocket to use the internet on his phone to look for any gyms within a five mile radius of Waterloo Bridge. If the murder did live close to the bridge it would make sense that he would go to a gym where he feel comfortable.

“Well there was a paper in her pocket but the water nearly destroyed it.” Molly responds walking across the room to pick up the clip board near the dead woman.

“Fetch it for me,” Sherlock spoke eyes planted to his mobile screen, it wasn’t a question and Molly hesitated for a few second before leaving the room.

Once she was gone Sherlock moved to face the dead woman before snapping a picture of her and texting it to John with the caption.

How did she die, John? SH

He waited a minute or so and Molly made her way back in the room with an evidence bag in her hands. Sherlock took it from her with a forced smile making Molly blush at him before spotting something on his neck.

“Sherlock, are you alright?” Molly asks and Sherlock ignores her for the most part shifting the water lodged paper to the light to look it over.

“You’ve got bruises on your neck.” Molly goes on pressing her clip board to her chest.

“Mmm, I’m fine- silence would be helpful.” Sherlock feels the buzzing of his mobile in his pocket and he reaches for it to see John’s number flash on the screen.

Jesus Sherlock you can’t just text me dead people while I am working- does Lestrade know about this?

Irrelevant, I need your opinion. How did she die? SH

Sherlock looked over the paper again noticing a half of a logo on the corner of it- it was light and seemed to have bleed through the papers folds. His mobile buzzes again.

Don’t know’ there seems to be no marks on her.

How would you kill her without leaving a mark? SH

Sherlock places the evidence bag down before exiting the room to leave Bart’s.

Poison?  

I’ve considered that. I would prefer it if you were here. SH

Sherlock hails a cab and gets in giving him directions back to 221 B so he could use John’s laptop. The cab moves and his phone buzzes.

I have work for at least two more hours. I can’t just leave.

Dull, John SH

Sherlock, I am sure you can handle two hours on your own.

That’s not the point. SH

What is?

Sherlock blinks at the question. What was his point? It would have been easier to gather information if he had John around?  That John’s wrong questions always made the right one present itself to Sherlock? That he hated when he was alone to work a case? That he missed John’s company?

Sherlock blew out a sigh.

I just prefer it when you’re here. SH

Me too, Sorry, got to go a kid just vomited. Be careful.

Sherlock sighed again shoving his phone away to try and focus on something other than John. Not the way John’s breath felt on his skin or how John’s hands gripped him as if he wanted Sherlock or even how the empty space in the cab was nagging at Sherlock’s racing brain.


*

After about an hour of searching for gyms with the logo found on the paper that was on the first woman’s person and a few texts from Lestrade and Molly with details on both women’s names and lives Sherlock still felt he was missing something. Both women Mary (first victim) and Sara (second Victim) lived practically on different sides of London and as far as Sherlock would tell they never had a linking friend or associate. Not that he really had any high hope of that link due to the factor of the second woman never stepping foot in a gym.

He looked closer to the location of Mary’s flat (the first victim) going with his ‘killer went to the same gym as her’ theory. Mary was exactly an hour ride by vehicle from Waterloo Bridge- yet none of the gyms in that expansion did not match the logo on the paper- unless the Logo wasn’t for a gym then what was it? Or she didn’t go to a gym near Waterloo- then wouldn’t that blow a hole in the ‘Killer might live near the bridge’ Theory?

Sherlock gave an annoyed grunt before he started to walk back and forth wearing new holes in the sitting room floor. He must be missing something, Sherlock thought angrily- but what?

Their flats Sherlock thought then- he needed data and the best he could do without having a third body was to see the both of the dead women’s flats.

Sherlock walked over to grab his coat and scarf while slipping his mobile out to text Lestrade his intentions. Locking his own door Sherlock made his way down and out of 221 B with his brain still rolling over the facts as if something new would simply present itself to him. Out on the streets of London Sherlock doesn’t have a moment to realize he had not lifted his arm to hail a cab, when one was pulling up right in front of him.

Sherlock reached for the door just to have John’s head pop out of said door startling both of them.

“Christ,” John swore looking up into the slightly confused Detective face before Sherlock was shoving him back into the cab.

“Shove over John, now that your home you can accompany me.” Sherlock spoke still shoving John to the side so he could close the cab door behind him.

“Sherlock what’s this about?” John asked shifting to a more comfortable position a bit annoyed.

Sherlock ignored John as he retrieved his mobile to rattle off the address of Mary’s flat and ignored Lestrade’s text of ‘you can’t just walk into a crime scene unsupervised’ Sherlock figured Lestrade should be grateful that Sherlock even texted him in the first place. Besides it’s not like the woman was murdered in her flat what difference would it make if he went there for a few minutes? Not much really, Sherlock thought responding to himself.

“Sherlock?” John’s voice cut through his mini rant actually startling Sherlock’s body- he had to his disappointment actually forgot John was there sitting against the cab door watching Sherlock.

Turning to face John Sherlock felt his heart leap up into his throat silencing him momentarily, John wore a dark colored plaid button up under the cream colored jumper John had worn during ‘a study in pink’ and his black coat with the patches. John’s tired face was scrunched up in confusion with a bit of happiness, his hair neat on top his head; John’s blue eyes storming in the shade of the cab, eyes that were looking for some kind of response.

“We’re going to a dead woman’s flat to look for data.” Sherlock finally spoke though John still looked a bit confused.

“Of course we are,” John sits back in his seat wiping his hand over his face once, Sherlock took in his body language- he was tense and an uncomfortable- he had a rough day at the clinic.

“How was the clinic?” Sherlock asks sitting back in his own seat, he felt unsure of what else to say or if he needed to say anything- should he touch John or reach for his hand or what? It was starting to annoy Sherlock frankly.

“The flu is going around- and I had to work while aiding a hangover, it wasn’t the best day ever.” John turns to look at Sherlock who was still looking at John. Neither of them say anything for a minute just take each other in, in silence. Sherlock’s gloved hand twitched as if he wanted to reach for John and he did want to- at least a part of him did. John just watched Sherlock as if he was unsure of what to say to ease the tension a bit until they had ‘the talk’. Looking at John now Sherlock was dreading the talk and panic started to rise within him, it wasn’t logical but none the less it was there stirring around in Sherlock’s being. Sherlock hated the feeling.

The cab comes to a sudden stop breaking the spell and Sherlock blinked a few times before shoving notes into the cabby’s hand and exiting the cab with John right behind him. The area was fairly expensive and Sherlock already figured that. John comes to stand next to Sherlock who made his way up to the front door.

“How are we going to get in?” John spoke in a soft tone so as to not attract attention to them.

Sherlock glances at John then back to the door before trying the handle it opened but that only meant there would be a door man in the lobby to stop them. They both walked into the brightly lit lobby area enough so Sherlock could eye the man behind the front desk who was reading a magazine, but not enough so the man would notice them. Gay, Sherlock thought looking the man over then turning back to John who was standing far closer to Sherlock then he thought. Sherlock could smell the clinic on John, which wasn’t a very flattering smell but made Sherlock’s mouth twitch all the same. John looked up at Sherlock his lips parted and his pupils widened further than before. The idea of grabbing John’s face in his hands and thrusting his tongue deep down John’s throat so the only thing John could taste was him occurred in the Detective’s brain. Sherlock blinked imaging what it would feel like to have that mouth on him again- have John’s steady hands grabbing for him with just as much desire. Sherlock could then shove John up against the wall and feel his body pressed to him- warm, inviting and painfully solid and compact. Desire started to swell at Sherlock’s groin by the thoughts alone.

“Think he will let us by?” John asked his voice an octave lower than before and the sound of it sent a flood of a few more memories and sexual thoughts that bombarded Sherlock’s thinking process.

“I…No, he won’t and I can’t use Lestrade’s ID trick,” Sherlock stammers a bit over his words and John eye’s him curiously.  

“Then what?” John presses closer to Sherlock to speak and Sherlock responded by leaning down into John personal space. Their faces close enough for Sherlock to feel John’s breathing grow irregular.

“Then we improvise.” Sherlock grinned down to his flat mate who returned it with a loopy grin. Before John could question his actions Sherlock turned with a dramatic swirl of his coat and took long even strides to the front desk man, his name tag read Rupert. Sherlock put on one of his deceptive flirty smiles he usually pulls out when he wanted something from Molly and leaned on the desk looking Rupert square in the eyes.

“Hello can I help you?” Rupert smiled at Sherlock, his body language shifting from friendly to flirty as he noticed Sherlock’s eye contact and stance when looking up from the magazine.

“I do hope so,” Sherlock spoke in a sweet voice as John walked up to stand behind him to watch this all unfold a bit unhappily.

“I’m here to visit a friend and she told me you would just let us up, her names Mary Winsor.” Sherlock batted his eye lashes knowing this man wouldn’t know about Mary’s death yet, he had just checked in for duty about a half hour ago and hadn’t received the call yet.  

Rupert looked down to a book then back to Sherlock who smiled still.

“I don’t see anything about a visitor,” Rupert says licking his lips and Sherlock wanted to frown but decided to shift to straighten his back then reach out and touch the collar of Rupert’s work shirt.

“Well if you look again you might see it next to me picking you up after work,” Sherlock bit his lower lip and Rupert turned tomato red. Sherlock heard John shift uncomfortably behind him and not doubt had crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance but Sherlock couldn’t think about that right now.

Rupert looked down again letting his eyes linger on the page in the book.

“R-right, here it is and I get off work at eleven.” Rupert smiled and Sherlock moved away from him and the desk with a stride backward.

“Thank you,” Sherlock winked before turning to grab John’s wrist and move both of them to lift.

Once they were inside Sherlock dropped his face and rolled his shoulders- it was always physically annoying to pretend. Honestly Sherlock didn’t understand how people did it all the time, walking around being nice or at least pretending to. Boring, Sherlock sighed.

John shifts again and Sherlock turned to look at him, John’s jaw was set and his hands were balled up in tight fists. Was John mad at him? Sherlock wondered if that was possible.

The lift came to a stop and John exited it before realizing he didn’t know where he was going and Sherlock had to stride out to lead the way to Mary’s flat. Sherlock picked the lock and they made their way inside- the place looked undisturbed more or less since the Yard had left. No signs of struggle so Mary wasn’t taken from her flat then, Sherlock thought moving around in quick steps to take in everything. She was left handed and obsessively cleans. Sherlock made his way to her address book that sat next to her lamp, nothing out of the ordinary or out of order- she labeled everything and made sure everything was in its right place. This was the type of person who most likely stuck to a regular predictable schedule day to day.

If he could only find the woman’s day planner he could be able to put a name to the gym she went to and that would be a start. Sherlock made his way past John to Mary’s bedroom which was just as clean as the rest of her flat.

“It’s almost like no one lives here.” John commented walking into the room after Sherlock who was looking under the bed and then made his way to the amour where everything was labeled and set in groups by the day of the week- the woman had a specific set of clothing she would only wear on a Monday or a Friday.  

“It’s usual a sign of a mild mental disorder.” Sherlock more mumbled the words while passing John again to check the desk drawers of the end tables on either side of the bed. He finds what he’s looking for- not the day planner per say but a business card with the same logo from the battered paper. Excitement flooded his senses and he nearly forgot John was there until he turned on his heel to announce his findings to find John staring at him.

John hand his hands behind his back and was standing far straighter than normal- he was upset still? Sherlock found himself frowning at this sight of John. He had just found possibly a vital clue and wanted to shout from the roof top but the tension in John’s shoulders brought him back down to planet earth. What could have I possibly done? Sherlock thought taking a careful step towards John while shoving the business card into his coat pocket.

“Why are you upset with me?” Sherlock asked bluntly and John just looked back to him.

“I’m not upset with you- not really.” John said looking away from Sherlock and licking his lips in a nervous way. Sherlock took another step to John so he was once again in his personal space. John looked back up to Sherlock since the Detective hadn’t spoken, then he sighed.

“You flirted with the door man,” John’s frown deepened as he shifted his hands from behind him to cross over his chest, he was uncomfortable talking about.

“You were jealous?” Sherlock inquired staring holes into John’s face.

“No,”

It was Sherlock’s turn to frown now, if John wasn’t jealous then why was he upset that he flirted with the man? Obviously Sherlock needed to get by him and there best bet was for Sherlock to sham him. It’s not like John hadn’t witness Sherlock shamming someone to get what he wanted – Oh. Sherlock’s mind clicked into place and it made sense to him now.

“You weren’t upset I was flirting- you are upset I was faking to get what I want.” Sherlock stated wanting to wrap himself around John until they melted into one. It was stupid to Sherlock that John would even consider such a thing, maybe even hurt his feelings a bit.

“Yes,” John gives a quick nod as he answers trying desperately to keep eye contact with Sherlock.

“You think I was faking with you last night?” It was more of a question then a statement not because Sherlock didn’t know the answer but he needed John to say it out loud.

“Maybe,” John shifted his footing and looked down to his shoes, Sherlock continued to frown.

“That’s stupid John.” Sherlock reached out both hands to frame John’s face and pull the smaller man’s face up to look at him. They make eye contact for a second before Sherlock leaned in and kissed John square on the lips. They didn’t move just stood there with their eyes closed and their lips pressed together. It was warm and without demand, a simple act of affection on Sherlock’s part.

When John pulled back to look up at Sherlock he licked his lips and drop his arms to his sides, Sherlock doesn’t move away. John was flushed at the cheeks and his pupils were dilated almost to the point his blue eyes looked black. John’s thin lips pink and parted as if he were going to speak but Sherlock didn’t want that just yet- he didn’t want to talk about it not now, so Sherlock pulled John back into a kiss, his one hand moving to the back of John’s neck to keep him in place. They moved this time in a proper make out, John’s head dipping to the side to mold his mouth to Sherlock’s their tongue meeting in the middle as if they both had the same idea. John moved his hand under Sherlock’s coat to hold onto Sherlock’s sides as he stepped into the kiss, his back bent just a bit as Sherlock attacked his mouth.

It was possibly better then Sherlock had remembered- John’s mouth tasted of tea and warmth. Heat rose between them as Sherlock moved his hand to John’s back pressing their bodies flush together. He could feel John’s breathing on his cheek, he could feel John’s hands gripping his sides then moving to wrap around Sherlock’s thin waist. Sensations running up and down Sherlock’s body, making him feel light headed- neither of them thinking of how they were standing in a dead woman’s bedroom snogging the fuck out of each other.

John moves one hand down to grab Sherlock’s arse and the other moves out form the coat so he could bring it up to Sherlock’s head lightly scratching his flat-mates scalp and runs fingers through his hair. Sherlock grunts at the sensation moving to nibble at John’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth. John’s hips have a mind of their own as they rock against Sherlock’s making both of them pull apart to moan. Out of breath and clinging to each other Sherlock doesn’t give John a chance to stop him as he pushes his body forward to make John walk backwards to press the smaller man up against the wall.

“S-Sherlock…” John’s protest was cut off by Sherlock’s mouth diving right back in and moved his hands to unzip John’s coat then shoving his hands up the front of John’s jumper. John pressed both of his hands into Sherlock’s hair his back arching off the wall to make contact with Sherlock’s groin again.

Sherlock hummed into John’s mouth as he moved one hand down to grip John’s erection through his trousers. John’s body twitched and his mouth pulled back from Sherlock’s to moan against the Detectives raw lips. Sherlock opened his eyes only half way to look down at John who had his eye’s closed. John looked perfect to Sherlock in that moment, his body curved, his face calmly flushed and oozing pure sex.

Sherlock then moved his lips down to press sweet kisses to John’s neck his hand still moving and working on John’s erection and his other roaming around John’s neck stopping to pinch a nipple every now and then. John’s body seemed to shutter repeatedly all of his nerves on edge just from Sherlock rubbing him through his trousers- it made a sense of pride wash over Sherlock.

“S-Sherlock…” John’s voice cracked and a whimper escaped him making Sherlock shiver before he moves his hand from John’s chest to his hip. Preparing him-self for what he was going to do next.

John gripped Sherlock’s hair tighter before he crashed his mouth against Sherlock’s once again, tasting and enjoying all that was Sherlock; their tongues were pressing and dancing between them, teeth bumping or biting at each other hungrily.  

Sherlock broke the kiss only to drop to his knees in front of John who gasped out and felt Sherlock presses his face into John’s groin. John’s hips twitched and the hands that followed Sherlock’s head down loosened its grip. Sherlock blinked up to see John’s eyes watching him with want- with a blissful fire flickering behind his darkened orbs. The sight made Sherlock moan softy before moving his hands up John’s thighs parting them slightly before attacking the button and zipper.

When Sherlock got John’s trousers and pants down far enough to expose John’s painfully throbbing cock, he gripped the base with move hand to gain control before darting his tongue out to invade Johns slit for a second. John gave a shuttered wine and his thighs involuntarily twitched before they moved another inch apart. Sherlock gave an experimental tug with his fist before opening his mouth to suck the mushroom head into his mouth.  It was silky smooth and Sherlock could feel John’s pule on his tongue. Closing his steel blue eyes Sherlock concentrated on sucking and licking at the same time knowing John wouldn’t last long from all the foreplay. It felt strange for Sherlock, to have a pulsing hard source of heat in his mouth but it was John and nothing about John could be wrong.

John needed more friction and staying still was becoming harder and harder every time Sherlock sucked so hard it hollowed out his cheeks and John witness Sherlock’s cheekbones sharpen. With small burst John moved his hips slightly thrusting into Sherlock hot wet mouth. Sherlock felt John’s movements but didn’t mind it much since they were small and Sherlock knew John wouldn’t try to purposely choke him. His own erection was throbbing and hard to contain in his slim fitting trousers, Sherlock decided to use the hand not attached to John’s cock to move down to his own trousers so he could release himself with a skilled hand.

John almost screamed in pain when Sherlock removed his mouth from him. Looking down John witnessed Sherlock lick at his on hand before returning his mouth to John. John’s fingers flexed in Sherlock hair his hip moving faster as he felt his ball contracting. Sherlock could practically feel John’s eyes watching him; it was a knowing heat on his face as he moved his free hand over his own dick.

“Ah, Christ, Sherlock,” John grunted out thrusting his head back against the wall feeling his inner thighs twitch uncontrollably and his body tensed everywhere before giving Sherlock’s mouth one finally thrust before everything went white.

The bitter unfamiliar taste of John on the back of Sherlock’s tongue almost made the detective gag but he pushed it down and pulled back to rest his head against John’s hipbone moving his hand at lightning speed. He came muffing a scream into John’s hip.

John took a moment to breath before sliding down the wall to grab Sherlock’s wet face in his hands and kissing his swollen mouth tenderly. Sherlock closed his eyes and melted into the kiss moving his arms to wrap around John’s broad shoulders. John stroked Sherlock’s face and neck tenderly, sometimes brushing his hand into Sherlock’s soft curls as their kisses become slower, until they were just a brush of the lips.  

“We should go soon; we have another flat to invade tonight.” Sherlock’s voice was horse when he spoke and he felt slightly embarrassed.

“Of course we do.” John responded in a soft voice kissing each of Sherlock’s cheekbones before moving his hands to tuck himself away.

Sherlock’s smile was loopy as he moved to sit back on his heels to do the same, he then reached out for John who gripped his hand making Sherlock stare into John’s smiling face. A bit in awe Sherlock was surprised to feel a bubbly feeling rise up in his chest that turned into a burning heat. It was strange and yet very appealing for Sherlock.

John was the first to shift up to the standing position bringing Sherlock along with him. Sherlock gave John’s hand a squeeze before turning to walk out of the room with John close behind him. John kept a firm grip on Sherlock’s hand all the way to the lift and inside of it, even when Sherlock leaned down to stare at John patting the blonde’s hair down. Sherlock found the contact to be stimulating and was a bit disappointed when John let go of him when the lift opened and they made their way out back to the London air.


*

After leaving Sara’s flat that was nothing like Mary’s, everything tossed about and rarely cleaned. Honestly the only thing these women had in common was the fact that they had long blonde hair, a slim figure and blue eyes. Definitely a type of woman but that meant it would be hard to determine who could be next. No, Sherlock decided to focus his mind on the business card from Mary’s flat since he had found an identical one in Sara’s. All he needed was too figured out what it was for. The only thing on the card was an address and the logo. Sherlock decided they needed to get back to their own flat so he could use John’s laptop.  

They were now in the sitting room of 221 B Baker Street where Sherlock sat at the table near the window staring into the laptop screen that washed his pale face in a blue hue. John stood in the kitchen making tea watching Sherlock out the corner of his eye as if Sherlock didn’t notice. Sherlock bit as his lip searching the address of the card, his mind drifting a bit to John but he shook himself and tried to focus.

“Here,” John announced setting a cup of steaming tea next to Sherlock as he looked over the Detectives shoulder at what he was doing on his laptop.

“What’s this about?” John asked sipping his own tea still hovering over Sherlock’s shoulder, Sherlock blinked side glancing at John’s profile.

“The only thing linking the two dead women,” Sherlock responded reaching out for his cup of tea to sip.

“Right,” John stood to straighten his back and roll his neck, “What is it?”  

Sherlock’s sweep his eyes over John’s tense body, then returned to the laptop screen to read from it.

“Apparently a night club,” Sherlock watched John move to sit on the couch over the top of his tea cup. John looked tired and worn out as he let his head fall back and his shoulders slump as his hands gripped his tea cup between his hands that were resting on his lap. Sherlock’s plan to distract John form starting ‘the talk’ seemed to have worked since John hadn’t mentioned anything on the topic since they left Mary’s flat.

“We are going to have to go there but not tonight- it’s too late, we’ll go tomorrow night.” Sherlock spoke closing the laptop and setting his cup down on the table next to it still watching John who didn’t look up when he spoke (a bit to Sherlock’s disappointment).

“Great, I need sleep, and food would be nice.”  

“I can get you some if you like.” Sherlock spoke without thinking about it and stood from his chair to grab his coat and scarf.

John lifted his head up to peak at Sherlock through one eye watching the Detective shrug on his coat and twist his scarf around his neck.

“Seriously?” John asked opening both of his eyes now a bit in surprise and sitting forward to set his cup down on the table in front of him.

“Yes.” Sherlock turned to face John with his hands in his coat pockets, Sherlock normally wouldn’t go out- ever but he needed a moment alone and had already offered so he figured he might as well go through with it.

“Come here.” John beckoned Sherlock by motioning his hand for Sherlock to come to him. Sherlock hesitated a second before clearing the room in three long strides. John stood When Sherlock was standing in front of him to grab Sherlock by the scarf so he could pull the taller man down into a kiss. Sherlock hesitated once again before kissing back; it was a short sweet kiss.

“I’m going to shower pick up whatever you want.” John said smiling up at Sherlock adjusting his blue scarf then walked past the detective towards the bathroom. Sherlock watched him until he disappeared into the kitchen before turning and leaving the flat.

Sherlock figured he would just get John’s favorite Chinese since he wasn’t going to eat anyway, not during a case. Sighing into the night Sherlock walked slower than needed and felt a bit of a weight resting on his chest. The thought of having to actually talk about them wasn’t pleasant- there were too many factors to consider between them. First John wasn’t gay, second Sherlock didn’t do relationships, three  them becoming closer would only raise the possibility of John getting hurt because of him by people like Moriarty, four John would probably get hurt by Sherlock, five Sherlock wasn’t even sure if he could actually love someone; there was just too much that could go wrong.

Sherlock sighed turning the corner; part of him wished he did make John leave his room last night. Though that thought did seem to bother Sherlock for a reason he wasn’t quite sure of; it made sense if he had let John go- they could still be friends, and work mates and there wouldn’t be an urgency to label them anything else. John would go on dates and make tea and do the shopping and play cluedo with Sherlock even when he didn’t want to and worry about Sherlock’s health and help Sherlock on cases and Sherlock could fantasize about John when he was alone or in the shower. Everything would stay the same and there wouldn’t be a chance things with them wouldn’t work and John would move out.

The last thing Sherlock wanted was to lose John.


*


When Sherlock got back to the flat the sitting room was empty as he set the takeaway on the table and he started to pull off his coat. He could smell soap in the air and a fait sound of humming drifted to Sherlock’s ears. He yanked his scarf from his neck and decided to investigate the humming sound. It leads him into the kitchen past the steaming just used bathroom and into Sherlock’s own room.

Sherlock found John facing away from him pulling a shirt over his head to sleep in, John’s lean muscled back flecked and shifted under taunt smooth skin. John’s pajama pants hung low on his hips and Sherlock felt a strong urge to wrap his arms around John’s waist. John was humming some song as he got his shirt on and started to pat down his wet messy spikes.

“Why are you dressing in my room?” Sherlock finally spoke making John make a very unmanly yelping sound and jump around to face him.

“Jesus Sherlock, make some noise!” John said looking absolutely adorable; Sherlock couldn’t help the smirk that made its way across his bow lips.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Sherlock took a step towards John who gave Sherlock a loopy smile.

“The bathroom was too hot and I didn’t want to give Mrs. Hudson an eyeful if I went into the kitchen.” John replied looking up to Sherlock for a moment before taking a step towards the taller man.

“I bought you dim sum,” Sherlock said and raised his hand to run it through John’s hair making it spike up wildly.

“What did you get yourself?” John raised his eyebrow, “Nothing, I don’t eat on cases you know that.” Sherlock still had his hand in John’s wet hair moving his fingers slowly around on his scalp, his other hand tucked into his trouser pocket. John smiled up at Sherlock still, Sherlock admired the softness in John’s features when he smiled- he always looked younger when he did. Sherlock’s heart almost leapt out of his chest when John reached up to unbutton Sherlock’s suit jacket and slid his arms around Sherlock’s ribs to hold the Detective against him. Sherlock slid his hand down the back of John’s head to hold his neck, his other hand still in his pocket. John rested his chin on Sherlock’s breast bone looking up at him with those eyes that meant that John wanted to talk about something but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Sherlock wanted to sigh and roll his eyes but he kept that urge down as he looked back at John.

“Sherlock,” John spoke in a soft voice.

“John.” Sherlock said back his lips dropping into a soft frown. John looked over Sherlock’s features for a few seconds, his lightened blue eyes darting all around as if taking Sherlock all in at once- as if he were committing the brunettes face to memory. Whatever John seemed to want to say never left his lips- instead John smiled up to Sherlock and said-

“Thank you, I was starved.”  

Sherlock hummed a bit in delighted John said those words rather than actually vocalizing it. John in response to his hum leaned up to give Sherlock a chase kiss before detaching himself from the Detective and moving around him to walk out the room.

“Coming?” John asked over his shoulder to Sherlock who looked back to John before turning on his heel and following him back into the sitting room.

Sherlock plopped down in front of the closed laptop and John attacked the takeaway bag sitting across from Sherlock. John opened his food preparing himself to eat as Sherlock sat silently watching John with his hands pressed together and his fingers pressed against his lips. Sherlock knew he needed to think about the case at hand and to be honest he was thinking about it, all the facts muddled around in his brain unsure of what to do with themselves for the time being. Though Sherlock’s brain seemed to be multitasking since he was still thinking about John who sat across from him looking absolutely delighted. Sherlock wondered why John looked so pleased; it was just food- unless Sherlock was purposely being ignorant not that he would admit this.

“So, you getting anywhere on this case?” John asked between bites making Sherlock’s eyes flicker up to focus on his face. John was looking at Sherlock with a curious expression.

Sherlock watched John’s jaw fleck as it moved and the way John’s eyes sparkled when the light hit them- how John’s lips slightly parted when his jaw opened to chew. Sherlock appreciated how crazy John’s oddly colored hair was- how small John looked when he only wore shirts. That was a reason Sherlock was actually quite fond of John’s long-sleeved stripped shirts; maybe one day Sherlock thought he would tell John that.

“Sherlock?”

“I won’t know anything further until we visit the club tomorrow night.” Sherlock said dropping his hands from his face slightly annoyed.

“Right.” John gave a stiff nod before returning his attention to his food giving Sherlock the silence he normally wanted when working a case. That was another reason to appreciate John he always seemed to know when to give Sherlock space or when he should press something even if it got him nowhere. John knew when to complain about the violin being played at four in the morning and when to just roll over and ignore the sound. John seemed to just work and shift with Sherlock with only the slightest of pushes to change- though John never tried to change a single thing about Sherlock’s immediate personality. As Sherlock seen it John just seemed to like Sherlock the way he was. This thought caused that warmth to start spreading in his chest again.

“Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?” Sherlock asked suddenly making John choke on his food.

“Excuse me?” John coughed in-between words looking up to Sherlock with wide blue eyes.

“I might not get sleep tonight, you are exhausted and my bed is better than yours- it’s only logical that you would want to sleep in my bed tonight.” Sherlock responded blinking at John in an innocent way.

John cleared his throat his cheeks flushing over a light pink which Sherlock found amusing.

A loud beeping sound broke the awkward silence. Sherlock’s reached suit jacket pocket to check his mobile as John finished off his food and started to clear the table. A text from Molly sent the detective from his seat over to the pile of files for both the two dead woman that sat on the table near the couch. Flipping through them violently Sherlock’s senses shut down and he didn’t seem to notice John lingering near him.

“Embalmment fluids…why...mortician…” Sherlock mumbled to himself as John glanced at the folders the taller man held before shaking his head and returning to clean up. John knew Sherlock wouldn’t be talking much sense for a while and decided to give him some space.

“Going off to bed now, Sherlock,” John spoke over his shoulder waited for a second looking at Sherlock’s back before turning around and heading to the detective’s bedroom not really expecting Sherlock to respond to him.

“Goodnight to you too,” John mumbled crawling under Sherlock’s duvet and falling fast asleep.