Come back to me (Sherlock Holmess/John Watson MD)

John was hardly able to notice that Sherlock was coming when his own orgasm hit him, he rode it with a few hard thrusts, feeling Sherlock's insides becoming slippery with his come.
The wave of pleasure robbed him of his breath and left him exhausted.

He collapsed on Sherlock's body, panting, his mind floating in hyperspace.
"God..." he whimpered, his lips kissing the detective's shoulder instinctively, just enjoying being so close.
He could die right then and he would be perfectly happy to go.

Sherlock was left shaking from the pleasure in the aftermath, slowly coming back to his senses while he watched John having his orgasm. He looked ever more beautiful as he was overwhelmed with please.

Sherlock felt a strange liquid kind of warmth though and slowly he realised John had released himself inside of him. His eyes widened. Of course, they didn't use a condom. They were too caught up in the moment. How could he have been that stupid?

His arms wrapped around John as he fell down on him. "That was amazing, John. You're amazing." He had to compliment the other though and for a moment he let a silence fall between them, giving them both the chance to control their breathing.

"We didn't use a condom." Sherlock said after a few moments.

John's face was buried in the pillow beside Sherlock's head, even though his body was still half on him, he didn't think he'd be able to move at all for the next eight hours.
"That's what I usually say..." he pointed out with a muffled amused tone when Sherlock spoke.

He swallowed hard when the detective pointed out the obvious. "I am clean, I swear..." he mumbled turning a bit towards him.
"I am sorry, Sherlock... I... didn't think..." he muttered, a bit worried the other man would be angry.

Sherlock rolled his head over to look John in the eyes. His lips pouted to leave a quick kiss on the other's. Sherlock felt tired, both from sex and the emotions he had been through today.

"It's okay, I guess." He mumbled as he closed his eyes.

Only a few moments later he remembered something.

"John." he said, widening his eyes. "Mycroft will be coming over any second."

John's head snapped up at the idea of having Mycroft find them like this. "Jesus, I forgot completely," he muttered, looking at Sherlock, before he burst out laughing.
The idea was just hilarious for some reason.

He took his mobile from the bedside table and put it on Sherlock's chest.
"Can't we text him to say not to bother?" he wondered, kissing up the other's neck.

He felt his body react already, and the kisses moved along his jaw with a bit more determination. "I might be ready for a second round pretty soon," he whispered against his ear.

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh along with the idea. His brother's face came to mind and it made him crack up completely. "Oh, could you imagine?" He said as he was back to normal. Sherlock picked up the phone, wrapping up a short text message saying he no longer needed his help. He did thank him for the offer though, Sherlock owed his brother a lot, even though he did not like that idea.

As soon as he felt John's lips attach to his neck, he banned the thoughts of Mycroft out. The whisper in his ear made him shiver and his body reacted to it as fast as John's had.

Sherlock rolled over, moving himself on top of John, lowering his fact to kiss and nib his friends chest and nipples, all the way up to John's lips. The friction of their warm skin moving together felt strangely arousing. "I'm more then ready for a second round." He groaned against them.

John had never thought he could go four times in one night.
He was not a young man any more, and he had accepted the fact he was growing old, but it seemed he couldn't get enough of Sherlock.

Every time Sherlock touched him that night, his body would react, he would pin him against the mattress and he would make him his all over again.

The last time they did it, the morning light was breaking through the curtains and he could see Sherlock's body covered in the marks he had sucked on him.
They did it slowly.
It lasted for long.
And John felt he lost his heart completely.
Sherlock had stole it and hid it away.


The next morning was a craze.
They were awoken by Mrs Hudson coming in to bring John's breakfast and it had been hard enough to cover up what had happened between them, not to mention to handle the crisis she went through when she realized Sherlock was alive and standing in her living room again.

The following days were similar, all the old friends were visiting and having crisis, they went by in a blur for John.
The papers picked up on Sherlock's return and after a week they found themselves stuck in the house, trying to avoid the mass of paparazzi and prospective new clients camped outside their door.

John felt he was going to burst.

They hadn't talked about what happened.
As a muted agreement they had acted as if nothing had happened and when the night came, they each separated to their respective bedrooms.

Every time Sherlock looked at him, even now, after a whole week, John felt a shiver run up his spine and he realized he was never going to get his heart back.
It was Sherlock's.
Forever.

So he tried to avoid him, or better, he tried to avoid touching him.
He fought with himself to act as if nothing had happened, but he never moved closer than two metres from Sherlock.
Because if he so much as smelled the other's scent, he knew he would die a little inside.

He didn't want to make himself ridiculous. He didn't want to give Sherlock the burden of his infatuation.
And at the end of the line, he didn't want to be rejected.
It had been a moment of weakness.
A distraction.
Nothing else.

It had been a pleasure seeing all the people he knew again. And soon enough it felt as is he had never been gone. Beside John, ever since they had that wonderful night things had changed between them. It was awkward and they seem to have this silent sort of agreement not to talk about those things.

But Sherlock didn't like where the situation was going. Of course he felt things for John, but he wasn't one to have a stable relationship, was he? It has crossed his mind many times and Sherlock knew that he couldn't know unless he tried. But if he was right, John would be left hurt and they couldn't go back to being friends. So it was a lot more complicated then he thought.

Sherlock sat in his chair. Just sitting, nothing more. There was a certain kind of tension noticeable in the room. As if a time bomb was ticking, ready to go off every second now.

John moved to look outside the window, the paparazzi were still parked outside, seemingly set on not moving any time soon. He sighed, looking back at Sherlock, he couldn't help but think that having sex would be a perfect way to pass time.

Maybe Sherlock had found it boring at the end, to do it with John, he was ordinary after all, and the detective could have anyone...
He shook his head, knowing he had to stop his thoughts before they'd spiral in a awfully bad mood.

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked, moving towards the kitchen. "I think we are stranded here today..."

Sherlock was pulled out of his thoughts as John asked him for tea. He could use some, seeing the circumstances they were in. Sherlock didn't like all this attention at all. He just wanted to enjoy being back silently, alone... with John.

"Yes. Yes some tea would be marvellous." He said, smiling slightly.

"You think they will camp out there tonight?" He said, frowning slightly at the idea. Those people would do anything to get their story.

"I'm already glad they stopped ringing the bell."

He looked at the kettle as it prepared to boil. "I think they will stay at least for a couple of days," he said honestly as he took out two clean mugs. "They are a pain if you ask me... I bet it was Anderson tipping the press... that man just doesn't know his place..."

He started sipping his tea absent-mindedly as he brought Sherlock's to the table, leaning a bit closer to settle it in front of him. "We need to find something to do... this is boring even for me..."

"Anderson? Yes. That bloody idiot might be behind this. I bet he's at home watching the news this very second, with Donovan scrubbing his floor. Oh he feels victorious." Sherlock hissed, more to himself then to John.

"Thanks." He said as he accepted his cup of tea.

His eyes moved over to John. "What are you implying?" he asked as he frowned slightly.

John felt a long shiver run up his spine as Sherlock looked at him and talked. "What?" he exclaimed, and blushed furiously when he took in what Sherlock had actually asked.

"I was talking about games, tv, films?" he pointed out, stepping away quickly, he surely had no intention of mentioning anything else, he couldn't possibly have sex with Sherlock again. It would kill him.

"Oh." Sherlock replied dryly, feeling a bit ashamed of himself for even asking what John had meant. He knew he how it had come across to John as he saw the other stepping back. Sherlock kept his cool as ever.

He turned on the tv, flicking through some channels and not even 5 minutes later he threw the remote control away.

"Arrgh. So dull." He snapped.

John sat on the sofa, overly embarrassed as Sherlock flipped through the channels, he had to admit that if he let himself look at his friend's hand he would be reminded of those fingers on his body, on his arousal, it was torture.

He looked away, when the TV turned silent again.
"Why did you sleep with me?" he blurted out finally, unable to take this any more, knowing he couldn't leave. And maybe if they talked about it, then it would stop feeling so bloody painful.

Sherlock's head turned to face John, his own eyes locking with John's pair. They were so beautiful and Sherlock found himself getting lost in there every time he looked into them. But he had to focus now. He had to pick his words right.

"Because I wanted to." He said, shrugging slightly. "We got caught up in the moment, John. We both did." He tried giving this an emotionless explanation.

"But I did enjoyed it. It was the best night ever." He said a bit softer, secretly hoping John would not hear.

John's heart clenched in his chest when he took in the other's words. They felt like cold blades. "Right. You got caught up in the moment. Of course," he mumbled, standing up and bringing his mug back to the kitchen even though he hadn't finished his tea.

He thought he heard Sherlock say something else, but he wasn't able to catch the whole sentence. Something about it being a good night, and that he enjoyed it.

He was going to try to make thing lighter, he decided, less awkward. He knew it was all because of these damn feelings he had.
He had to forget about them.
"I enjoyed it myself," he muttered, even though he reckoned it had been rather obvious, "I did not expect you to be... experienced, I have to admit," he said, trying to sound as casual as possible. "And going four times, that was impressive..."

Sherlock felt his cheeks flushing red slightly. 4 Times in a row was impressive, he had to admit that. But it still felt awkward, talking about it. He never talked about these kind of things, with anyone.

"And I did not expect you to be into men." Sherlock just replied, ignoring the bit where John told him about his experiences. Sherlock had sexual encounters, for information on certain kind of things. John would never approve on that.

John noticed the blush on the other's cheeks, it was sort of endearing, but he was rather sure Sherlock wouldn't want him to mention it. God, he wished he could touch that though, or kiss it- he shook his head, he had to stop thinking about touching Sherlock, it was never going to happen again.

"I am not," he replied with a shrug. "But I guess I've made a few exceptions," he muttered, and looked at him. "Sex is sex after all..."

"Actually, I did not think you were interested in sex at all... I have never seen you attracted to anyone other than the woman..."

"Sex is sex. Yes." He replied, even though he did not agreed with it. They hadn't just had sex, they made love. They had loved each other in that bed over and over again. They shared feelings. Even Sherlock wasn't blind for that. But he couldn't just say so, if John thought it had just been sex.

"I've had some sexual encounters." He replied, still not feeling like explaining those.

He scoffed at the mention of the woman. "Miss Adler? You didn't really think I was sexually attracted to her, did you?" He frowned at John.

"There is a difference between having sexual encounters and being interested in sex though... I thought you would try to avoid it... that you, for example, don't get caught up in moments..." he said, shrugging, trying not to sound as affected as he felt.

An eyebrow raised in disbelief, he looked at Sherlock with a smile. "Oh come on, when she said brainy is the new sexy you couldn't talk properly! I would think you were very attracted to her," he commented, jealousy thick in his words, but he hoped it would pass as annoyance.

"Seems like you got me wrong then." He smiled shortly. There was a lot John didn't knew about him. And perhaps does things were better left unsaid.

Sherlock frowned slightly. "If I wanted Irene Adler, I would have had her John. She offered it more then once." He brushed that subject off, it didn't matter now anyway.

Sherlock sat in his armchair rather uncomfortable. Did John really had to bring this up? It made him think of how good things were, he could have John again if the occasion would occur. But he wasn't one to have a solid relationship, was he?

John felt his heart freeze in his chest at Sherlock's words. "Right. Of course. You can have anyone you want," he muttered, resting his head on his hand and looking towards his bedroom.
Maybe to talk about this had not been the best idea he ever had.

The silence stretched, and again there was that awkward moment in between them that they couldn't seem to be able to avoid since that night.
"I... am glad you're back, you know, regardless...." of what happened between us. His voice a bit shaky. "I realize I haven't said it... but... it's good to have you home..."

Sherlock sat staring at the tv screen. His eyes slightly narrowed as if he was actually watching a program on there, even if it was turned off. He scoffed slightly at John's comment. Have everyone? Is that really what John was thinking right now?

A shiver ran down his spine though just a brief moments later. It's good to have you home... Those words made Sherlock go weak on the inside. He could easily pop off his armchair to hug and cuddle with John now. But he didn't, he just stayed where he had, only looking at John shortly.

"Yes." He replied. "It's good to see you as well. Really good to be home.. Indeed." He muttered.

His soul was screaming for Sherlock, his heart was longing for him, and John could hardly sit still, he wanted so much to touch his friend, even just a brushing of hand would be enough, he told himself helplessly.
He couldn't though.
He knew it would hurt him more than everything else.

He couldn't stand it any more though.
He jumped from his seat and headed towards the door.
It was killing him.
"Yes, good," he muttered, his heart stuck in a tight grip.

He realized then that he couldn't go outside.
"Damn," he groaned, annoyed.