Remember Me (John/Anthea friendship)

Sherlock could feel John's thrusts become raggedy and irregular, heard him shouting his name and realised he must be reaching his climax. Sherlock himself was still in a daze, his muscles tense and twitching but beginning to relax, the intensity of the orgasm still spasming around him.

His breathing was short and heavy, his chest aching. He looked down at John collapsed on his chest and ran a hand through his hair, a hand he realised with a smirk that was covered in his own ejaculate. He surrepticiously wiped it into John's hair, thinking he looked even sexier now than before and he almost laughed, surprised at himself for thinking such dirty thoughts.

He opened his mouth to try and say something but no sounds emerged, just a small yelp of delight until finally he managed to splutter, "J-John...that was...in...credible..."

The peak of pleasure he had experienced made his mind fuzzy again, the few memories of the days since he woke up mixed with bits and pieces of his past. He could not make sense of it, and he closed his eyes, burying his face in Sherlock's neck to try to keep everything else away.
Sherlock's body was warm, and even though it didn't feel familiar and he had no memory of it, he felt he loved it all over again.

"Surely, this is my favorite place in the world," he thought out loud, burying his face in Sherlock's skin, his arm wrapped loosely around the other's chest.

"It was, wasn't it," he muttered with a grin, then realized Sherlock had been hurt. "You must be exhausted, are you alright?"

Sherlock frowned slightly, in the aftermath of his own pleasure almost forgetting for a brief moment that this wasn't supposed to be a new experience for both of them, but something they had enjoyed together countless times.

"Your favourite place," he repeated, noticing he was still slightly breathless. "Yes, yes it was. Um...still is I hope." He grinned. "Hope I didn't...um...disappoint you," he added, the last part genuine now.

Sherlock had quickly decided he needed to play along with the original facade for now. It was important for John to believe they were a couple. He needed this. He reached up his arms and pulled John close into his shoulder, kissing his forehead tenderly.

John smiled at Sherlock's words, genuinely happy that he was right about something. He didn't know really, but he felt he loved Sherlock's skin, he loved Sherlock... he frowned at his own thoughts, he was going too fast, but then again, how long had they been together before the accident? He had no idea, maybe they used to say it to each other all the time.

"It is..." he whispered, cuddling even closer, just making sure Sherlock knew how much he liked this, how much he appreciated his affections.

He frowned at the rest of the words: "Of course you didn't disappoint me, Sherlock... you were amazing," he exclaimed, even though really, he had nothing to compare him to. Surely, it had been good though, he had loved every second of it.
Why was Sherlock insecure?
His fears from before crept up again.
The memory of that other guy, and of those other girls, they were bits and snippets that vanished in his head if he tried to think about them too hard, but they were there, he knew they were real.
Did he use to cheat on Sherlock?
Did he know?

He suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
He didn't want to remember that.
Maybe it was better if he didn't remember anything at all.

Sherlock smiled and kissed the top of John's head, happy to feel his friend's body pressed right up against him, hardly believing how amazing it felt just to have this physical closeness. God he had missed John so much when he was away, now he was only just beginning to understand why...Sherlock was seriously entertaining the possibility that perhaps he had stronger feelings for his friend than he'd once imagined.

He'd orginally gone along with the idea of having sex wqith John because he didn't want to upset him, set back his progress, confuse him...but the more he thought about it the more he realised it wasn't just that. Sherlock hadn't gone along with it /just/ for John. He'd wanted it too. He'd been turned on, excited, desperate even. He'd wanted to go all the way with his best friend and now he had. So John must mean something to him. More than...just friends.

The more Sherlock looked at him the more he noticed the way John appeared before his eyes. He had...pleasant features - his eyes, his hair, his lips, his physique. It was like Sherlock was seeing him for the first time. Was this what it was like when people talked about 'fancying'? Did he 'fancy' John? His head hurt with too many questions.

"I love you John," he heard himself whispering, then his heart leapt into his mouth and his cheeks turned a bright red when he realised the words that had just escaped his lips. It was as if he had no control over himself. Some part of his brain had just spoken for him. Sherlock didn't even know if it were true or not. Did he love John? Why had he said it?

John was resting his head on Sherlock's shoulder as he thought, trying not to let his fears get the best of him.
He noticed the detective was looking at him at some point, and he returned the gaze, his chest filled with those feelings he couldn't deny.

Sherlock saying I love you took him by surprise, and his heart was suddenly in his throat.
"Even though I... I don't have my memories?" he asked, swallowing hard. "I am a different person now..." he admitted, knowing that there were certain things that could never go back to the way they were before.

"I feel so guilty, Sherlock, I don't have any memories about us... I don't even know if I treated you right!" he explained, clearly troubled. "I don't know if I deserve your love..."

He looked up at him, his eyes sparkling slightly.
"But I do... I do love you... it's in my heart... I don't think it ever left..."

Sherlock was quite relieved that John didn't fly into a panic over his admission of love, although he supposed that was what he was expecting to hear. John probably thought they used to tell each other all the time.

God knows why he'd said it. On one level it was because he knew that was what two people said when they were in a relationship, boyfriend and boyfriend, after they'd just had sex. It was all part of his charade, his storyline. But on another level he was beginning to wonder if there was a part of him that genuinely meant it. He'd said it without thinking, without planning, the words had just fell out of his mouth like he had no control over them.

Sherlock squeezed John's arm gently, wondering why he was so insecure about their supposed relationship. Perhaps there were some other memories getting through somehow. Oh God, he suddenly thought, perhaps he was starting to remember they were never in a relationship in the first place.

"Of course you deserve my love," he said quietly, gently brushing his fingers along John's chest. "And your memories...I can help you with them. One by one. We'll...work on it together."

Sherlock felt his heart flutter slightly when John returned the words, when John said he loved him. Somehow they sounded special from his lips, precious, genuine and he couldn't help but smile happily. John loved him. Or at least he thought he did. But it was the closest Sherlock had ever got and it mattered. "You always cared so much John," he remarked honestly. "Sometimes I envied you...but I always admired you. Kind, loyal, thoughtful. Perfect human being. Me on the other hand..." He trailed off, sighing slightly. There was no way he could ever compete with John's magnificence.

John leaned up on Sherlock's body, his fingers tracing his cheekbone and then caressing along his jaw, he didn't think he could have enough of this, just feeling his skin under his touch.
"I want to believe that... I want to believe I am the person you say I was..." he confessed, nuzzling his nose. "But you do sound terribly biased at the moment," he teased him with a smile.

He thought about the words, trying to find reasons, memories that linked him to Sherlock, but his head was empty as usual, only the memories of the last few days were vivid and real. "You faked your death to save me, you got injured to protect us today, I do not think you are anything short of wonderful," he muttered, leaving a trail of kisses on the detective's neck.

He stopped to kiss his lips, rubbing his body closer with a sigh. "Do we usually sleep like this?" he asked, his voice heavy and tired, but he would consider moving if Sherlock felt uncomfortable.

Sherlock smiled sweetly at John, finding it more difficult to remember when he was pretending and when he was being genuine. The lines were becoming blurred and there were moments when he actually believed he and John were a couple. Would that be such a bad thing, he wondered idly to himself and kissed the top of John's head.

"Uhh I'm not all that wonderful," he said modestly, then added with a cheeky grin, "although granted I am /quite/ wonderful," and he shivered slightly at John's kisses.

There was no way he wanted to sleep anyway else that night, and it had been John's suggestion in the first place to share a bed. He wasn't about to go and spoil it after all the amazing fun they'd had. "Hmm yes," he mumbled. "This is where you belong John, right here in my arms. You're not going anywhere." And even as he said the words he realised they were quite true, his feelings were real. He loved John.

"Modesty doesn't suit you, Sherlock," he commented with a chuckle, and for a moment he sounded just like his old self. Except he didn't know he did. "But it's kind of cute when you try," he admitted, his eyes brimming with affection as he turned to look at him.

The words made him smile dreamingly, his heart seemed to be beating in his throat, it felt overwhelming and amazing. Was it normal to feel like this? Was this what love was like for everyone?
"I am so glad you are here Sherlock," he whispered, settling back on his chest, his leg wrapped around one of Sherlock's.

"I was so lonely... no memories... no one coming to visit... I saw myself in the mirror, I could tell I lived for almost 40 years and I had no memory of it, and I had no one to remind me of it... I thought... I thought I had wasted my life..." he admitted, closing his eyes. "What's to live so long and have no one to share it with..."

The way John was talking made Sherlock feel quite sad. It was hard to imagine what it must feel like to be in that position, no memories of anything, everything just a blank. Sherlock would find it infuriating, maddening. His memories meant so much to him. Sometimes they were even crucial to his work. He couldn't imagine life without them.

It made him feel a little guilty for tricking John, but more than that, it made him detemined to help his friend, and possibly now, boyfriend...was that it?...get his memory back.

He sighed and snuggled John into him a little closer. "Jus rest now John," he whispered kindly. "Tomorrow I'll help you get some memories back. We'll look at your blog and I'll tell you all about the cases. I'll tell you all about Baker Street and our life together, everything."

John frowned softly as Sherlock pulled him closer, promising they would work on his memories the day after; he wasn't sure he wanted that, he wasn't sure he wanted to know who those other people were.

"I don't care about that, Sherlock," he whispered, hiding his face in his shoulder, his arm tight around him. "I am just glad you are here... with me... I... I don't want you to go any where..."

"I'm not going anywhere," Sherlock promised, kissing the top of John's head. "Not anymore." He wrapped his arm further around John, squeezing his shoulder gently.

Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed happily. He didn't think he'd be able to get to sleep, but he quickly discovered he was exhausted - physically, mentally, emotionally. It had been ages since he'd had a decent night's sleep but that night he got one, feeling safe, secure, satisfied, back together with John. His John. Within a few minutes he was snoring gently.

Sherlock's words comforted his mind somehow, and John found himself relaxing against the other's side.

He watched him sleep for a long time, willing himself to commit to memory how he looked like in that moment, naked in his bed and so close to him.

This, he was sure, was going to be his most precious memory, regardless of the fact that he had almost none to compare it with; he wanted to savour the moment for as long as possible before letting it go.

Eventually, he fell asleep, one arm secure accross Sherlock's chest and his head resting by the other's shoulder.

Sherlock woke before John, feeling completely refreshed and full of energy. He was quite eager to jump up and start doing things but at the same time he didn't want to spoil this moment with John.

He was quite sure that in a couple of hours time John was going to be pretty angry when he realised Sherlock had lied to him. The truth was bound to come out sooner or later, Sherlock knew that, he wasn't stupid. It was going to be obvious when John read back through his blog that he and Sherlock weren't a couple, then he'd definitely have some tricky questions to answer.

So for now he just watched John sleeping, feeling a little nervous and hoping that his friend had meant everything he'd said last night, and that he could hold onto those emotions when he realised Sherlock had bent the truth slightly.

John looked so peaceful, beautiful even, and Sherlock knew in that moment that John Watson was the most amazing person he'd ever met, and that he never wanted to be apart from him. He leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips.

John was woken up by a kiss.
Consciousness came with the soft pressure of the lips he had memorized the night before.
"Sherlock," he whispered with a smile, somehow proud that he knew something now, that he had his own memories of the night and not just words people told him and that he had to trust.

"Good morning," he muttered then, running his hand in the other's hair, groaning slightly as he stretched along the size of Sherlock's body and skin rubbed against skin.

"I like waking up like this," he commented, nuzzling Sherlock's jaw with a blissful motion, his sleepy brain still not ready to let his fears come back.

Sherlock bit his bottom lip slightly as he realised his kiss had woken John from his slumber, although in reality he was rather glad to have him awake again, to be able to look into those eyes, hear that voice - he stopped his own thoughts dead, interested to note he was beginning to think like someone consumed by emotions. He had a vague sense that he should do something to control them but pushed the idea to the back of his mind, something to think of later, once John had rejected him.

For now he smiled warmly at his friend and leaned over to give him another small kiss on the lips, lifting up his leg to wrap over John's, tangling their bodies together with a happy sigh. He'd never imagined physical contact could feel so wonderful.

"You'd better get used to it," Sherlock replied huskily. "Because this is how you'll be waking up every morning from now on." He felt a twinge of sadness in his chest, wishing that were true.

John couldn't help his cheeks from burning red at Sherlock's words, he knew it probably was normal for couples to do just that, and that maybe they did it everyday in the past, but it still felt new to him at the moment and it sounded so much like the promise of a future together.
It was more than John had hoped for, and there was warm happiness spreading in his chest.

"I am looking forward to every single morning waking up with you," he confessed, running his hand through Sherlock's dark locks, kissing his lips, nuzzling them tenderly.

"You're even more beautiful this morning," he muttered, his hand moving down the other's back, tracing his spine slowly, feeling the bandages.
"How are you feeling?"

Sherlock smiled slightly at John's wonderful words, accepting the compliments with a small bashful shrug.

But he felt happy in that moment, possibly the happiest he'd ever been, and he wished they could just stay that way forever, entwined in each other's arms, warm, cozy, cuddly.

Sherlock broke off from their embrace, sitting up slightly and looking at his bandages. "I feel much better thanks," he mumbled, adding, "you always were a brilliant doctor. Knew I could rely on you."

His eyes fell on John's laptop and he toyed with his bottom lip slightly, wishing they could delay the process further, but he knew he owed it to John to help him with his memories. He reached for the computer and dragged it towards them with a sigh.

John couldn't help his hands from moving over the bandages, checking whether Sherlock was still bleeding, and whether they were tight enough. Everything seemed in order and he smiled. "I have practiced for so long, that I can function without memories, that's quite peculiar," he commented with a laugh. "I couldn't possibly leave my boyfriend bleeding to death though," he teased him, caressing his cheek for a moment before he looked at the laptop.

Panic quickly lodged in his throat.
"I don't want to see that, Sherlock," he exclaimed, shaking his head. "Not now..." he admitted, his eyes pleading.
"Too much all together... I... I am not sure..." He stopped, not ready to say what he was really scared of.

Sherlock quickly put the laptop back on the bedside table when he noticed the panic and fear in his friend's voice. He turned to John with a concerned look and placed his hand on the doctor's cheek.

"It's OK," he said gently, nodding slightly. "We don't have to do anything you don't want. Not until you're ready. I just...I want to help."

He smiled sadly, staring deep into John's eyes before looking away and frowning. "We had some good times," he mumbled. "Good times together." /although not the type you're thinking of/. Sherlock took John's hand in his own and squeezed it, before turning to wrap his arms round him, pulling him into an embrace, wincing slightly as he stretched his wound

John calmed down considerably when Sherlock put the laptop farther away from him, he knew it was truly up to him and he could take everything at his own pace if only he spoke up, he looked into Sherlock's eyes and he knew that there was no need to rush.

"I know," he whispered, caressing down the back of his neck as they hugged, and then he nudged his shoulder, massaging it absent mindedly. "I just... it's so much... I've just got you back and everything that happened last night, it blew me away..." he admitted, looking down in between them.

"I know that being this close is nothing new to you, but it feels new to me, and I... I am afraid of ruining it by getting obsessed with my memories, or worse, finding out things about the past-" he trailed off, and shook his head.

"My head is empty at the moment, every time I try to put too much all together I start panicking... I need time..." he looked at him sheepish. "I know you might want your old John back as soon as possible... but could you... could you give me some more time?"

Sherlock's mind was in a very confused state. On the one hand yes, he did want his old John back. He wanted them both to be fit and well again, to move back into Baker Street as soon as possible and to start solving cases together once his brother had helped him clear his name again. He wanted the banter, the laughs, the friendship. He wanted the danger, the adventure, the excitement. But now, now he wanted so much more too.

Sherlock had had a taste of what things could be like. How they might have been if he had chosen to pursue John that night in Angelo's instead of telling him he was married to his work. It made him wonder if John had been secretly hiding his desire for him all these years. It certainly seemed strange that these new feelings and emotions should come out after him losing his memory. It was almost like these were his true emotions, his instincts, how he really felt. It was certainly a fascinating case. Sherlock clinically imagined it would make a wonderful thesis for his website.

But what made Sherlock confused was not how John had reacted but how he'd reacted himself. It would have been easy to gently explain to John that they weren't a couple, that they were just good friends, close, inseperable friends, but friends none the less. But instead he'd chosen to placate John's belief that they were a couple, even to the point of sex. And he'd liked it, loved it even. Sherlock was only just beginning to realise the depth of emotions he felt for his friend and he didn't want everything to get ruined just yet.

"Of course you can have more time," he said with a visible sigh of relief, pulling John into an even closer embrace. "Today is your day John. I'll do anything you like."

John wasn't sure what to think of the other's confused expression, but when he was told that he could take things slowly, he himself let out a sigh of relief.
"My day, you say?" he repeated, his fingers on his boyfriend's chest, caressing down the toned muscles.

"You know that might mean we aren't going to leave the bedroom at all?" he whispered, teasing, finding himself strangely comfortable in their close relationship. It all felt natural to him.

He wanted to forget about the laptop, about his blog, he knew that even if he had been cheating on Sherlock, he probably wouldn't have written about it on the internet, but he still couldn't help but feel that if he read about his past, he would end up remembering the rest as well.
And then?
Would he be the same?
Woukd he feel the same about Sherlock?
Would he end up going back to cheating?

His past self had felt like a stranger for a while now, but never like in that moment.
In that moment Sherlock was the center of his world and he couldn't imagine a time when he had wanted someone else, when someone else could even remotely compare to his boyfriend.

Sherlock grinned. "I'd quite happily spend the rest of my life in bed with you," he whispered, playfully kissing John's nose. It wasn't quite true. He could probably spend another couple of hours in bed without getting bored. He did after all, need mental stimulation as well as physical, but Sherlock knew all the right things to say and for the time being it /was/ true.

He did indeed feel very happy and content lying there next to John, and he wondered whether they might have sex again. Sherlock was rather looking forward to the prospect, although the muscles around his entrance were still a little sore from last night's session he was fully prepared for round two.

He wrapped his arm around John's waist and brought him in closer with the leg that was hooked over his body. He placed a small kiss on John's lips, then began to move the kisses away down his jaw and to his neck. This was all still so new to Sherlock, but already he felt he might be able to get quite good at it.