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Sherlock stiffened in his armchair, eyes strained on the wall riddled with bullets. From his footsteps alone, Sherlock was able to identify the mood of his soon to be companion.
Holmes sprung to his feet and retrieved his violin, before veering his body to face the window. “I’m back Sherlock.” John murmured, shrugging his coat off and dropping it to the floor and out of his way.
“Want to talk about it.”
“Nope.”
“Are you sure.”
“Course I am.” John snapped. Sherlock pursed his lips and side eyed the man vehemently. So there they both stood, awkwardly making eye context before John got too uncomfortable and opted for making tea instead.
Sherlock dropped his violin to the side as the kettle began to bubble. Instead he moved to the armchair he previously occupied. From there he had a clear view of his friend. The day obviously hadn’t been kind.
Soon enough the smell of tea began to fill the apartment signalling the soon-to-be conversation. John let out a tenuous sigh before lifting both tea cups and bringing them both to the main room.
Sherlock took a cup with a slight smile of appreciation, however the latter was too exhausted to reciprocate. Watson sat in the chair opposite to him avoiding any amount of eye contact. Sherlock leaned forwards.
“I understand you’re stressed right now but I can’t help unless you let me know what is bothering you.”
“Nothings bothering me.”
“Something must be.” Sherlock growled through his teeth, leaning impossibly closer. “I’m you’re friend I can tell when you’ve worked yourself up into a bit of a tizzy.”
Watson slammed his cup down on the coffee table beside him. “I have done no such thing.” Sherlocks voice raised a couple octaves to accompany his. “It’s obvious you have, why you have is still a mystery.”
John gritted his teeth together. “So why don’t you enlighten me on why you have Watson, and I can endeavour to help you.” As if on cue Mrs Hudson comes bursting through the door.
“Oh, will the pair of you keep your little domestic to yourself, you are frightening the customers downstairs!” John slaps his hands against the arm chair sides and springs to his feet.
Sherlock mirrors him, expecting a swing of the fist, or perhaps a lunge at the throat. He doesn’t do so. Instead, with strenuous effort he stomps upstairs to his bedroom.
“Why must you continue to pry.” She asks with the shake of her head. As the door swings shut, Sherlock wonders to himself if maybe he should’ve just left it. Key word maybe.
Sherlock Holmes and Dr. John Watson always had a tricky relationship. John being the uptight, romantic, family orientated-kinda-guy. Sherlock on the other hand was sporadic, aggravating, and especially self-absorbed.
Watson could feel his heart thundering against his ribcage. He flexed his tired hands repeatedly, giving his mind something to do other than think about the past occurrences. He needed to calm down.
Sherlock had a habit of getting on peoples nerves. It was obvious he never meant to but sometimes he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth closed. It got him into all sorts of trouble.
Violently, he scrubbed his hands over his face, nursing the headache that he had grown accustomed to. A knock on his door alerted him that he wasn’t alone. “For god sakes, WILL YOU GO AWAY.” Watson swung his legs around the bed and made his way to the door.
The knock sounded again. Johns hands clenched into balls at his side. He attempted to regain his composure for a moment before opening the door.
“What. Do. You. Want.” John spat.
Sherlock was silent. They stared into the others eyes, fury radiating from the shorter of the two. “I think I know why you’re upset.” His voice came out slow and unsure as if he was monitoring what words were said.
“I don’t want to hear you deduce my feelings as if I’m some type of case.”
“Why not.”
“Because I’m not one.”
“I think it might help.”
“I don’t think it will.”
“But I think it mig-“ John cut him off before he could finish. “Listen, I’m really not in the mood for this.” Sherlock held his stance firm and unwavering. Holmes opened his mouth, and before John could stop him began deducing.
“From you’re body posture I can tell that not only are you frustrated but you feel some type of let down. As it is likely you went on a date after work, without my original knowledge might I add.
Since you left without any cologne and re entered with the slight musk of one you must’ve been attempting to hide it from me. You also applied a light amount of gel to your hair, which I know you don’t do unless for a special occasion.
From that I believe it was a first date with high expectations, expectations of which were let down as she didn’t seem to be who she originally said she was. Perhaps you also were expecting to have intercourse tonight so were especially disappointed when you left alone
So from what I gather your running on emotions and sexual frustration.”
John stood perfectly still, mouth agape.
“She came across my blog.” He began. “And she thought I was too obsessed with you.” His voice came out breathy and doubtful. “She thought I loved you.” Holmes stood brows furrowed, eyes fixed on his friend.
“What did you tell her?”
“What do you mean, what did you tell her?”
Sherlock moved closer, reducing their personal space. John felt his lungs screaming at him for air. He ignored them.
“I.”
Their eyes remained locked together. Watson swallowed a lump of saliva and took a deep breath.
“I am not gay.” He said.
“Watson don’t lie to me, your nose and cheeks are flushed, which is an obvious sign of attraction, as well as the fact that your heartbeat is off the rails and your body temperature has increased tenfold.”
For the second time today Watson stood mouth agape.
“You’re a doctor you should know this.” With that Sherlock placed his finger beneath johns chin. He pointed it so that johns lips were angled upwards and swiftly engulfed them with his own.
John struggled for a bit, attempting to speak or shrug Sherlock off yet to no avail. Sherlock pinned johns wrists behind his back, immobilising them for the time being.
Their lips broke and instead Sherlock began to trail them elsewhere. First he moved them across johns stubble, relishing in the soft scrape, and then he moved for jawline and further downwards to the neck and then the collarbone.
He gently littered kisses along them, pleased with himself when John made muffled grunts. “I just want to help you John. Please let me help you.” John didn’t reply, but didn’t try to move him off this time.
“Move backwards onto the bed behind you.” Sherlock began, stepping closer to speed up the process. John did as he was told, hesitantly to begin with. Sherlock dropped to his knees and spread his legs apart.
John suddenly tensed, breath catching in his throat. “Sherlock I’m not gay.” Their eyes met once again. “Neither am I.” John frowned at this comment.
Gently Sherlock closed his mouth around the head, causing John to breathe out a whimper. He began to make his way further downwards, flicking his tongue out to trace along the thick underside.
John couldn’t help wondering how he was so skilful at this. The detective pulled back before bopping his head once again and setting up a comfortable rhythm. His hands began to wander upwards to touch more of this companions skin.
“Sh..Sherlock a-ah I’m not going to- ah last.” Sherlock popped off the end of his companions shaft to reply. “My dear Watson, it’s not about lasting it’s about efficiency.” John flushed.
“There’s no need to be embarrassed, I simply wish to help you unwind.” Sherlock reattached himself to Johns dick and moved faster, taking more of his friend into his mouth and increasing the pressure at which he sucked.
“A-ah! j-just there.” Within moments john spent himself, coating the insides of sherlocks mouth. He writhed beneath his companions mercy, legs shuddering and tensing hard. “S..so good sherlock- ah! so good baby.”
Swiftly, Sherlock pulled himself back and sneered before spitting the contents in his mouth to the side. “Jesus H Christ Sherlock.” He pulled himself up from on his knees and perched next to John.
“Where’d you learn that?”
“Internet.”
The room turned quiet besides the doctors laboured panting. John kept his head down but allowed his eyes to drift up and lock with sherlocks. “I’m sorry about your date.” Sherlock murmured.
John opted not to speak.
Euphoria, and post sex daze had began to ware off and instead a feeling of discomfort settled in Johns stomach. What he had just done was unbelievably wrong. He began to feel sick.
A slender arm came and wrapped itself around the doctors waist, breaking him from his impending thoughts. “Stop thinking so much, your distracting me.” Cautiously John tilted his head and rested it on top of the latter’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Sherlock.” John whispered, keeping his eyes locked on the new carpet stain. He received no response aside from the arm tightening around him and pulling John closer into his side. Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Hamish Watson.
Maybe they could just make this work.