Interruptions (John/Sherlock)

((You're welcome. Feel free to show your appreciation by sending me Sherlock so that he can talk to me like that. God, so HOT!!!!))

John froze for a short moment. This was it, probably his last chance to pull away before he did that extreme step. Being taken by another man, can't really get less heterosexual than that. Was that what he wanted? Could he do that? John looked up at Sherlock above him, the predatory look in his eyes shifting to a warmer concern as he picked up on the change in John. The answer took John over and he felt stupid for even questioning the instinct. John yanked Sherlock's lips to his for a passionate kiss.

"Oh, God yes," he breathed out.

He then lay back again, and softly stroked Sherlock's cheek.

"Only you, from now on, unless you ever change your mind. Only you, my Sherlock."

John then looked up at Sherlock with steely, lust-filled eyes.

"Now, I will warn you- I have never begged, ever."

He let the challenge go unspoken, but it clearly hovered in the small space between them.

((Ok, one small sexuality crisis invasion, but resolved with fluff. Now Sherlock is free to get back to making John beg. That is, unless he wants to come visit me...please?

((Oh, shit that totally came across wrongly... I actually don't like writing full-on smut between any gender combinations, really. I like the foreplay much more :P I didn't plan Sherlock to actually take John... I think... :\ Gaaah I don't know :P What I meant to make clear was that Sherlock can do abything to him, tease him senselessly, cool him down on the brink of orgasm, that kinda stuf :3))

Sherlock took the unspoken challenge enthusiastically and begun immediately. He released John with his right hand and stroked his jawline and neck with the lightest of touch. He turned John's head slightly to the right to have better access to his ear. He started talking again while unbuttoning his shirt.

"You are in no position to warn me." Pop.

"And I will make you beg." Pop.

"Whether you like it or not." Pop.

"I will do things to you tonight." Pop.

"I will make you forget your own name, if I have to." Pop.

"Faisons ce la première fois, n'est-ce pas?" Sherlock added the French, which he knew tuned John on. The last button popped out of its place and a bare chested John lay under him, ready to be explored. Such a powerful and enthralling feeling.

Sherlock pressed kisses on John's neck, exploring the places he was most sensitive. Simultaneously, he let his long fingers glide over John's chest very slowly and very lightly. When he passed John's navel and stroked the patch of hair, going down John's slacks, John arched his back into the touch, which Sherlock punished by pausing his fondling. John groaned.

"Je ne vais pas arrêter, je m'amuse trop, trop grande" And he added more pressure and tongue in his kisses. He released John from his grip on his other wrist in order to explore him with both hands. He didn't feel John's hands on him yet, which was a good sign. Apparently he was doing a that good job.

"Je ne peux pas attendre plus longtemps." He breathed. By that time, Sherlock was getting very lusty and didn't feel like teasing anymore. He released his lips from John's neck and looked him straight in the eye for a moment. John looked so dazed and happy and wanting, Sherlock couldn't say no. Then they simultaneously kissed each other. Soon they shared an open mouthed kiss when Sherlock lost his self control. He grinded against John, who was asking for it anyway. Sherlock explored John's chest with his hands. John's skin was so smooth and warm and lovely he never wanted to stop.

((FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF Glad you like it ;) Please feel free to reverse the roles if you want, I have no objection, but Sherlock might have ;) Lost inspiration at the end, hope that's not a big deal~))

((Ah, ok. that's actually fine. It seemed a bit soon for them to do that anyways, and I don't know if I would necessarily want to write that out myself.))

John felt like he was paralyzed, he literally could not move under Sherlock's hands, could not get Sherlock to speed things up already. It was both utter torture and the most exquisite thing he had ever felt. His whole mind was swirling with the sensations of Sherlock- the light brushes of his hands, the warm caresses of his lips, the hypnotic tones of the French.

When Sherlock finally stopped and looked down at John, eyes bright and wild he had to lurch up and pull him into a deep kiss. They pulled back and looked at each other, eyes communicating the same message- they both were too far gone, they needed release now. Whatever their earlier intentions had been, they wouldn't be able to make it to that, not this time.

John took Sherlock's hand in his and placed it so that they were both holding each other's cocks together, skin on skin. They were so close almost every inch of their bodies were pressed together. John lightly kissed Sherlock, then began to stroke, Sherlock soon joined in and they established a rhythm. Faster, faster, kissing each other to the point where they were lightheaded from lack of oxygen.

John came, screaming out Sherlock's name and feeling Sherlock jerk in his arms.

When John's head finally stopped spinning, he looked over at Sherlock and kissed at his eyelids, still closed from his orgasm.

"You are the best part of my life."

He lays his head in the crook between Sherlock's neck and shoulder and holds Sherlock close.

((Yeah, I agree that it would have been soon. By the way: what about clothing? I lost track on what clothing they are wearing x)))

Sherlock couldn't stop smiling. The way John had screamed his name when he came, gave Sherlock chills only by thinking about it. It gave him the last push he needed to come.

Sherlock didn't know what to reply to that confession. He was thoroughly touched, he would have never thought someone would say something so lovingly to him. He didn't know what to say in return and instead, he kissed John passionately.

Now they were lying nuzzled against each other. Juts lying. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's shoulders and waist and holds him. Their toes were irregularly wriggling against each other. He smiled and pressed a kiss on John's hair. This felt wonderful.

Sherlock could feel John's heartbeat and his slow breathing pattern was all around him. He was spellbound by the beautiful feeling of it that he couldn't doze off, even if he wanted to.

"That was the most perfect date I've ever had. And believe me, I've had quite a few."

He felt John shift his head and he was now smiling up at him. John should know how beautiful he was right in that moment.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow and a mischievous smile played along his lips.

"What do you mean with was? The night is young. And however biologically impossible, I feel like I have 33 years of semen spared up and I am happy to see you do something about that."

((That is a very good question...maybe the clothes just disappeared? I have no idea where they are or what happened to them...actually, I think I may work that in to the post, could be amusing. :) ))

"Thirty three years you say? Hmm, that is quite the challenge. To think of all the things we still need to try."

John trails a finger slowly down Sherlock's chest. A realization then hits him.

"Sherlock, what happened to all your clothes? Not that I mind you being without them, I think it's actually one of my new favorite sights, but...I don't remember in what context they were removed...was I actually so out of my head orgasming that you were able to take them off during that time?"

Sherlock just smirks. John gives a disbelieving laugh and pull him forward for another kiss.

"You never cease to amaze me."

Sherlock's phone chimes.

Text
From: Lestrade

Victim's boyfriend is a bartender. Working tonight, trying to talk to him, not giving anything up. Come in and see if you can get anything from him? Place is called Catch 22, over on Kingsland.

John reads out the text and looks at Sherlock to see what to do.

((So, possibility to have the Sherlock flirting scene, or they can stay in for the night and then go in to see this guy tomorrow- that is, tomorrow in narrative time, not writing time))

*Also, just a disclaimer for any readers: this is actually the name of a real club. I have never actually been there, I just Googled the name of clubs in London because I didn't want to make one up. I know nothing about the place other than what it's website looks like, so anything that is written about it is not accurate!!!*

Sherlock thought for a moment, staring at the ceiling and then hissed.

"Tsss. Lestrade is approaching this in a completely wrong way, of course. And now he has ruined my chances of getting information. That man will fly the first syllable I question him. It'll have to wait until tomorrow..."

John handed him his phone over and he replied:

Text
To: Lestrade

Don't question him any further. Don't make him suspicious. Leave this to me. Aon't interrupt again tonight. I'm on a date.-SH

In his mind, he began making a detailed plan of how he was going to fix this, when he was interrupted. When he opened his eyes again, John was hovering over his face, scrutinizing him in his thinking mode.

"What?"

"She was right."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"Brainy definitely is the new sexy."

Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes with a smile. John pressed a kiss on his lips again and Sherlock abandoned his thinking mode. This 'mission' would be horribly easy. He threw his phone away in some corner of the room. They would not be disturbed again.

"You were saying...?"

((So, figured out that the poor boy must be terrified and would not say anything to anyone this evening, so that our two lovelies could get on with their smoocheh-smoocheh times ^^))

((Seems perfectly reasonable.))

John wasn't joking when he said that Sherlock was sexy when he was thinking, it was the truth. Watching Sherlock go into a mode of complete focus, and seeing the thoughts flit through his eyes was incredible and beautiful.

John gently kisses along Sherlock's cheekbones (something he may have fantasized about on multiple occasions in the past), and stroked his fingers along Sherlock's neck. He eventually moved down, lips on the neck- alternating between light kisses and random sharper nips. He then nudges Sherlock so that he rolled over onto his back. He straddls over the backs of Sherlock's thighs and looked- this was the first chance he was getting to thoroughly explore this part of Sherlock.

He lightly traces his fingers over the ridges of Sherlock's shoulder blades, provoking a small grunt from the man beneath him. John then leans in, and rubs his nose against the nape of Sherlock's neck, covered in cooled sweat. John kisses along this area, going back and forth from the areas behind Sherlock's ears. After a few passes he then moves down Sherlock's spine, lightly sucking on each vertebrae, stopping at the small of Sherlock's back. Here he bites, once right above Sherlock's left buttock, then soothes the spot with his tongue.

Sherlock is totally still beneath him, so John leans up and moves so he can hover near Sherlock's face.

He whispers into Sherlock's ear, concerned, but keeping his voice light, "Hey, you ok? Still breathing? You can tell me at any time if you don't like something I'm doing, and I'll always stop right away. I want to make sure you know that."

John presses a gentle kiss to Sherlock's shoulder, "Never, ever feel like you can't tell me what you need."

((Ok, I'm not trying to prompt Sherlock to have a negative reaction here- he can just be still because he really likes what John is doing, I just felt that this whole talk is one John would have at some point in the relationship, and now was as good a time as any.))

Sherlock was completely focussed on the impact John's touch had on him, when John suddenly stopped. John's warm breath in his neck waked him from his thoughts.

"I was cataloguing the new data that is bestowed upon me. I am more sensitive in my neck than on my back and thus your lips and hands have a whole other effect. On my back, they have a comforting, almost petting function which makes me sleepy. Not arousing, but very nice still. Attention to my neck, on the other hand, does arouse me."

Sherlock rumbled this all in one go, as a normal deduction. This really was what was going on in his brain when they were making out. His deductions faltered when he was reaching orgasm, though. Then he wasn't 100% sane.

He turned to face John, who was leaning over him on one elbow.

"And breathing is as boring as it can be, when you're... fondling me." Sherlock admitted as if it was the most normal thing you could say.

"It's amazing, that brain of yours."

Sherlock smirked. He was never going to get enough of John's praises. He reached up when simultaneously, John bowed down to kiss him. Their lips met softly and John pulled the blanket over them.

Very warm and cosy, they were snogging and cuddling a while. They exchanged nudges of noses, licks of lips and wriggling of toes. Giggling and fiddling, Sherlock learned more and more about making out, techniques John taught him without speaking. Soon Sherlock dared to take initiative. He nipped and sucked softly at John lower lip, when John broke the contact by smiling.

"You are a fast learner aren't you?" He said fondly.

"You have no idea."

((I just felt very cuddly today :') I actually want couch cuddles with crap telly or something, but I didn't know quite how to get them dressed a little bit and moved to the living room when they are so cute :3))

((Aww, cuddles :) I love cuddles))

John laughs softly and gently rubs his nose against Sherlock.

"Well, seems like I have a lot to look forward to then."

John lays down so he's leaning on Sherlock's chest.

"So, want to tell me what you've learned so far?"

Sherlock thinks for a moment.

"I think it would not be in my interest to tell you everything. Some of my observations I wish to keep to myself to prevent you from predicting them, thus neutralizing their effectiveness. However, I can share some deductions with you."

John then closed his eyes as he listened to the low rumble of Sherlock's voice. Sherlock soon started lightly stroking his hand along John's back as his spoke, eventually lulling John into a pleasant daze.

John suddenly realizes that there has been a long pause in Sherlock's speaking, he shifts and looks up.

"Your respiratory rate has dropped to 4 breaths per minute, meaning you were starting to fall asleep. As it is now past 11, you would normally be going to sleep around this time anyways, so I deduced that it would be considerate to let you sleep."

"Will you sleep?"

"I'm not sure if I need sleep tonight, but I will stay here until you have gone into your REM cycle. I can always lay here and think about the case, this bed serves as well as the couch."

John pulls them both down into a more comfortable position and eventually falls asleep.

((So you can go to the next morning if you want. I think John would be so cheerful the next day he might hum while making tea, if you want to throw that in. Jazz most likely, seems like music he would like.))

((Alright!))

Sherlock thought about the case when John fell asleep. His body relaxed and felt heavy on Sherlock's chest when he was gone. Sherlock smiled and absent-mindedly stroked John's hair while thinking.

Sherlock could not fall asleep, even if he wanted to. He was done making plans about next night, though John could form a little problem. So instead, he watched John's relaxed face with great interest. He moved the tip of his adorable nose sometimes in his sleep and murmured sometimes something he could not understand.

John's face was completely calm and relaxed, an expression he rarely had. Almost always he wore an emotion. Anger, amazement, excitement, the like. Sherlock found it intriguing.

At last, Sherlock's butt began to ache and he had to use the toilet, so he released himself carefully from John's grasp. John shifted and turned. The bathroom door squeaked when he pushed it open, and John began to talk in his sleep again.

"'ad a nice ... very nice time- Lock.. Next time- Oh... Hmmmm. Yes. Not- not 'ere. No... Mrs.. Mrs Hud-Hudson will hear- ah."

Sherlock smirked. His deductions were probably right about the contents of his dream. He couldn't help but feel smug that John dreamed about him in such a context. He went back to the bed and pressed a kiss on his forehead. John immediately shut up. Sherlock cursed himself, he would love to observe John having a dream about him.

***

Sherlock was playing the violin when John woke up. It was a slow, happy and melodious song. He had known it since childhood and he played it without thinking about it. Sherlock was standing before the window, wearing his blue robe. Only his blue robe.

He heard the loo flush and the door open, followed by footsteps.

Sherlock was not surprised to hear the noise of the kettle. It was their morning routine. But something was different. John was humming 'Fly Me To The Moon' by Frank Sinatra.

Sherlock didn't stop his song, but transformed it into the melody of Fly Me To The Moon without silences falling in. He heard John stop and chuckle. Sherlock grinned.

He smiled when John wrapped his arms around his waist and gave him a hug from behind. Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned back a little, into the hug. John nuzzled his nose in Sherlock's neck, which almost let Sherlock falter his song.

"Good morning." John murmured, slipping his hands under Sherlock's tied robe.

"Good morning." Sherlock replied, smiling. He was smiling an awful lot lately.

His playing did falter, though, when John found out that he was only wearing his robe.

((Oh my, what a beautiful cliff-hanger for me to work with :) ))

John woke up feeling happier and more refreshed than he had in ages. The whole bed smelled like him and Sherlock, and strains of quiet violin music drifted through the air. John took a few moments just listening to the music. He loved it when Sherlock actually [i]played[/i] his violin. When he just used the instrument to vent out his frustration (resulting in a noise similar to that of a dying cat) it was annoying as hell, but when he focused the music was one of the most beautiful sounds John knew.

He eventually got up and pulled on one of Sherlock's pajama trousers- they were too long, and a bit tight around the waist, but worked for the moment so long as he rolled the bottoms up. He made a note that if he was going to keep sleeping in Sherlock's room he should move at least some of his clothes down here. He hadn't originally realized he was humming a real song until Sherlock began to play along, which made John's stomach fill with warm flutters.

He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and hugged him, then let his hands wander under Sherlock's robe.

"Well now, that's a rather interesting wardrobe choice," John commented, lightly stroking his fingers over the bare cock beneath the robe, causing it begin hardening, "If you're going to get in the habit of wearing so little clothing around, I might suggest that you keep the drapes shut. I will take advantage of your lack of clothing, and I don't really like the idea of our neighbors getting a free show- I'd rather keep [i]this[/i] to myself."

As he was talking, John kept lightly stroking with one hand and playing with Sherlock's nipples.

John leans in and whispers into Sherlock's ear.

"I think now would be a good time for you to put down that violin and close the drapes."

((YES then my goal is achieved! Yours is also...-Ah.))

Sherlock's eyes, as well as his insides, fluttered. John's calm whispering and his teasing fingers inciting his hardening body parts were just so erotic. Suddenly, he feared his knees would fail him. A hum of agreement transformed into a stretched groan.

He did as John said and laid his violin in a basket on the ground. At this, he felt John's hands groping his buttocks (because they had to let go of him). Sherlock chuckled and eagerly closed the curtains.

He wanted to turn around, but John wouldn't let him. His hands were in their former place and added pressure to keep him in place. Sherlock let out a hitched breath. John was still stroking and pinching his nipples and breathing in his neck. He paid attention to both his tip and his balls, which made Sherlock dizzy for a moment. He had to find support in the draped window.

"Oh God, you're good." Sherlock mused. Sherlock knew John had experience, but he hadn't counted on that he would be thát good.

((I'm tired and inspirationless so, good night (or whatever it is there ^^)) ))

((For me that was early evening, about 5 pm. Still though, goodnight, I hope you have good sleep!))

John slowly pulls open the tie of Sherlock's robe and laughs against the back of Sherlock's neck.

"Imagine that, you making an observation of a mere four words. I would have thought that impossible. I wonder..."

John turns Sherlock around and slowly pushes Sherlock's robe off his shoulders, stroking his hands along Sherlock's arms the whole way down with the robe. He starts out just lightly stroking his hands over Sherlock's front, memorizing the texture and contours of Sherlock's body. Sherlock's breathing increased slightly, clearly trying to anticipate John's game.

"What's the atomic number of Argon?"

"18," Sherlock answers automatically, "Why do you ask?"

John doesn't answer and instead leans over and starts kissing along Sherlock's neck- starting at his ears and trailing down and across his shoulders. When he reaches Sherlock's right shoulder he speaks again.

"What's the formula for the Ideal Gas Law?"

Sherlock is panting at this point and it there is the shortest pause before he answers.

"PV=nRT. John, that has nothing to do with are current activities. What exactly are you trying to prove?"

John just smirks, darts up to kiss the tip of Sherlock's nose, before dropping down again to suck on one of Sherlock's nipples, simultaneously twisting and pinching the other. He then drops to his knees, and starts trailing kisses and nips down Sherlock's stomach, while lightly running his hands over Sherlock's hips and thighs.

"What is the 50th digit of Pi?"

Sherlock is silent for a good 15 seconds.

"Zero. Now I insist that you give up on whatever this game of yours is and cease asking these utterly inane questions!" Sherlock finally growls.

John chuckles and bites at Sherlock's hip, then kisses the spot gently.

"Spoilsport."

Sherlock makes a warning noise in the back of his throat and grips tightly at John's hair. John looks up at Sherlock as he kisses the swollen tip of his cock. He sucks on just the tip for a minute, until he sees Sherlock open his mouth to tell him to get on with it. He then swallows as much of Sherlock down as he can in one go- more than he had expected, though he gags when Sherlock hits the back of his throat. Sherlock moans at the vibrations of the gag, so John hums a bit as he pulls back and takes Sherlock back down again, slower this time. He does this a few more times before abruptly pulling off Sherlock entirely.

"What is the third planet from the Sun in our solar system?"

Sherlock yells out in frustration, pushes John down onto the ground, and straddles him.

"I HAVE TOLD YOU COUNTLESS TIMES JOHN, I DO NOT GIVE A BLOODY DAMN ABOUT THE FUCKING SOLAR SYSTEM!!!!"

John lies under Sherlock, breathing erratic and pupils totally blown wide. He never would have guessed, but Sherlock swearing in his seductive, low, currently rough with sexual frustration voice was amazing sexy. The whole thing was making John grind up against Sherlock.

Sherlock leaned down, hands on either side of John's head, trapping him completely.

"Now you are going to pay for that little stunt, my dear Doctor Watson," Sherlock whispers threateningly into John's ear, sending a shiver right down his spine.

((Ok, so this is what my mind comes up with when trying to write at 11:30 at night after killing myself with Psychology homework. I draw up random stuff I remember from high school and make it into some strange sex game...huh, interesting. Hope it's not total crap.))

((NO I ABSOLUTELY LOVE IT!!))

Sherlock was utterly frustrated, a bit angry even. He was not going to treat John like a pussy. He tilted John's head by a hand on his neck and and bit it, like a vampire. He was careful, but he wanted to make a mark. He pulled up again and whispered, while running his hands down John's front:

"You want to play? OK, we'll start easy. What's the most common disabling infection during military employment?"

John swallowed shortly and answered: "Diarrhoea."

"Correct." Sherlock rewarded him with a roll of his hips. John clenched his teeth and grinded back.

Sherlock roughly scooted his hands over John's torso, pressing him to the ground. He wandered down with his lips and caught a nipple. He sucked on it and played with it with his tongue. He pressed a gasp from John, having a difficult time under him.

"Next one: What's the eleventh rank of the British Army?"

John sighed deeply and counted for a good 10 seconds.

"Lieutenant Colonel."

"Correct."

Sherlock tore his lips off John and took the first position again: close to his ear and sucked on his. He slid one of his hands to the small of John's back and pulled him up, closer to himself. With the other, he rubbed over John's bulge through his pants. John squirmed against his member, which was still hard.

"First thing you have to do in a medical check-up."

"Open the door."

Sherlock let out a small hiss not to laugh. It was kind of true, but he couldn't count it as right.

"Wrong, my dear Doctor. You deserve punishment."

Just when John opened his mouth to say that he wasn't wrong, Sherlock yanked his pants down and gave a good stoke. John groaned. He gasped when he saw Sherlock's head disappearing from sight and felt lips on his tip. Sherlock trailed circles with his tongue over John until he thought it was time to do the Full Monty.

During John's absence the day before, Sherlock had improved his skill in giving blowjobs. He had gathered data, experiences from others in this particular area. Of course, he hadn't tested it out yet. He couldn't think of sucking off someone else than John. Anyway, he now understood the techniques of swallowing and the effect of tongue-work, so now was the perfect occasion to apply his knowledge.

He thought it was rather pleasurable for himself. On internet fora, mainly women had complained about giving a blowjob. But Sherlock didn't share their opinion at all. It was spell-bounding to feel John's pulse pumping through his cock. John entangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair again, which was both comforting and maddening.

When he felt John was getting close, he stopped and gave oral attention to John's ear again.

"Who is that actor you fancy and whose bum you check out? Because I'm going to kill him."

((Fluff/smutt-y? I don't know... It was kind of hard for me to write this, surprisingly...))

((Very, very sexy, and the last question is adorable. For the record, the answer would totally be David Tennant as the Doctor- long, lanky legs and a smartass mouth, just like Sherlock.))

John was struck with the realization that should Sherlock ever call him ‘my dear Doctor’ outside of the bedroom he would end up in a very embarrassing situation. How is it that Sherlock could make a moniker that would be so patronizing coming from anyone else sound unbelievably sexy.

Oh God, and Sherlock’s mouth! Clearly the man had done research during the afternoon, because he had not known how to do that before. This was not a good development for John’s temporary advantage in experience, or his self-control.

At the last question though, John regained a bit of that control, it was just too ridiculous. He leaned up on his elbows to better look at Sherlock.

“Seriously? First off, how the hell did you even realize I fancied an actor, because you never pay attention to me when we watch TV. Second off, no way in hell am I telling you, because you’re mad enough you might actually kill him, and that would ruin the show. Thirdly, your arse,” John grabs said arse for emphasis, “is the only one I really fancy- that was just a daydream. Main reason I liked staring at it on the telly is because it looked a bit like your arse. Now I can just stare at yours... and grab it... and bite it.”

John tries to muster up a thoughtful face.

“Though I bet if I asked Mycroft could introduce me to the actor...”

Sherlock shoots John a death glare.

“What?! You seriously don’t believe that I can be trusted to talk to the man without hitting on him?”

((By the way, I would recommend not answering that you don’t trust John. It will create problems. I would go with the ‘I don’t trust David Tennant not to hit on you’ route.))

((Or John Barrowman! He would probably hit on John xD))

((Second thoughts: Yep, David Tennant it is.))

Sherlock had to hold himself together when John mentioned and displayed some of his plans what to do with his arse.

"First: I always pay attention. Second: You don't need to tell me. Third: You flatter me."

With one finger, Sherlock softly pushed John to the ground again. Just hovering above John's lips he added:

"It's not that I don't trust you. I just that don't trust David Tennant."

"Amazing."

"Hardly. I just wa-" But Sherlock was interrupted by John, who pulled him into a sweet kiss.

Suddenly, they both felt their need for release. The kiss became rougher and eventually consisted in nothing more than crashing lips, twitching tongues and bites from teeth. Like last night, John grabbed both their cocks together and started to stroke. Sherlock pulled him closer from the small of his back, but needed the other to steady himself, because God! This felt so hot and good and he really needed it. It now hit him that he really needed this, after a night thinking, but doing nothing while John had been so close. It was maddening, just like John's sped-up pace.

They both cried each others names when they came. Both their voices were rough and sexy and it gave more than enough stimulus to ride out their orgasm. Sherlock didn't collapse, but bowed over John on hands and knees, panting heavily. Eventually, he managed to speak.

"Tea's gone cold."

((TROLOLOLOLOLO))

John lay back staring at the ceiling.

"Not really the first thing on my mind at the moment."

A knock is heard at the door.

"Yoohoo, boys!!! I heard some shouting, and just wanted to make sure everything was alright. You aren't fighting again, are you?"

John's face has gone white as he looks down at the general disarray of himself and Sherlock.

"We're fine Ms. Hudson! No need to trouble yourself! Thank you for checking in!"

"Sherlock is behaving then? He got rather loud at some point, and I heard him shouting your name. He's not causing you trouble?"

"Ummm...." John tries to keep his mind from warping those words, "Like I said, we're fine."

"John, what...oh, you boys left the door unlocked last night, I'll just stop talking through it..."

"Ms. Hudson, please don't!!!"

The door opens.

"Oh, well then, this is rather unexpected. Glad to see you both finally stopped being so idiotic. Goodness, to think it took you so long to get over yourselves. How long we're you planning to wait before you told me?"

((Yeah, just because...))

((XDD roflolling here))

Sherlock got up and was putting his fallen dressing gown on, but was too late to tie it before Mrs Hudson came in. Not that he minded. But he knew John did.

"We wanted to call in for tea this afternoon..." Sherlock helped John up, but then saw what mess he was covered in. Sherlock improvised, opened his robe again and closed it around John. Sherlock was quite satisfied with his cover.

"...but this turns out to be the more direct way of telling you." John finished the sentence. John blushed and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Mrs Hudson walked towards them and gave them both a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, look at you two. I will stop asking if you've had a fight in the future, supposing you're more then fine."

She took a step back, clasped her hands together and smiled at the sight of them. Then, she picked up her dress and made it for the stairs.

"Tea is ready at four. Oh, I'll have to tell Mrs Turner!" and she was gone.

Sherlock was grinning like an idiot at John, who was staring up quite adorably.

"Will you let me go?"

"No."

"Good."

They figured out a way to shuffle to the bathroom, which was of no use at all, because Mrs Hudson was away, but no one cared. Arrived there, Sherlock wetted a towel, cleaned himself and threw it to John, who did the same.

Sherlock took the time to admire John in Sherlock's pyjama pants. It was an odd combination, but sexy nonetheless.

"I'm going to brew some tea... again. I suppose you'd better change in more clothing, or we'll be never getting any breakfast." John pressed a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips and made it for his room, probably to change too. Sherlock followed up his advice and did the same.

((I don't mind where it's getting here, but I'm planning to let Sherlock explain his plans for the evening (the case) while breakfast, just that you know))

((Sounds good, my thoughts were sort of going in the same direction))

While John was in his room getting changed, he also piled up a pair of pyjamas, comfy sweats, two jumpers, a few pairs of pants, assorted socks, his robe, and two trouser sets. He took this small pile of clothes and walked back downstairs to Sherlock's room. The door was closed, so he knocked before entering. He came in on Sherlock doing up the last few buttons of his shirt, and paused to give an appreciative look.

"You're bringing a small selection of clothes into this bedroom, because you've spent the last two nights. This leads you to believe that if this relationship continues, and it will, this will be the bedroom where you will be spending most of your nights, making it more logical for you to keep your clothing in here. You're taking the first step into 'moving in with me' as it were."

"Exactly, do you mind?" John asks, putting the clothes on top of Sherlock's dresser.

Sherlock walks over and wraps his arms around John, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

"I am elated," he says sincerely, before thinking something over, "We could turn the upstairs room into a laboratory for me, that way you wouldn't have to yell so much about bodyparts in the kitchen."

John laughs, "That's an idea, but let's take things one step at a time! How about breakfast first? Also, don't even think of using your 'lab' until ALL of my stuff is moved out of the room."

Sherlock leans down and kisses the tip of John's nose, "Of course not."

They walk out to the kitchen, and John makes up tea and eggs while Sherlock checks some experiment with frogspawn and earwax. He tries to sneak kisses from John, but John insists that, while holding contaminated test tubes, Sherlock stay at least five feet away from all the food.

When they sit down, instead of sitting across from each other as normal, they sit next to each other, feet touching under the table.

"So, the text you got last night about the case, you're going in to try and question this man tonight?"

"[i]We[/i] are going in to the bar where the man works to do the questioning, though you will probably need to keep your distance once we arrive. I would appreciate it if you came with me though, I would be lost without my blogger."

"Course I'll come. What's the plan though? You said Lestrade was going about the questioning all wrong. What are you going to do?"

((So can Sherlock wear sexy clubbing clothes tonight? Like, super, super tight jeans and some ultra-revealing shirt? Pleeeeeaaaaasssseee!!!!!!))

((I think I can do that, yeah :')))

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course." John replied immediately, though a worried frown was on his brow.

"Lestrade couldn't have done it right, because the bartender is gay. I'll probably have to flirt with him to get the information."

"Ah." John pouted and thought about it. "Anything more than flirting?"

Sherlock hesitated. "I don't know how far I'll have to go. But you should know I don't want to go further than flirting."

John hummed. "Of course I do." He shook his head slightly as if he wanted to shake the thoughts away. Then, he smiled and looked sideways at Sherlock.

"It's so hard to imagine you and flirting. Can you even flirt?"

Sherlock tried not to look insulted. Instead, he turned to John, laid his arm on the ridge of the back of John's chair. He leaned slightly forward and pierced John's gaze. He made sure his low voice was on its lowest when he spoke. He hoped this would answer his question.

"Can you teach me?"

((You can play this out if you want, or not of course. I liked the idea of John teaching Sherlock how to flirt, seeing what worked and what not. Let's pretend they're eating during this post, shall we? xD))

((Sounds like a plan :) ))

Ok, so maybe Sherlock did have some idea of how to flirt. He certainly had some idea. John's stomach was filled with hot flutters at having Sherlock crowd into his space and talk like that. Something else twisted in John's stomach as well- jealousy and discomfort at the idea of Sherlock doing this with another person. This surprised John, he had never thought himself a particularly jealous lover. He pushed that away in favor of having fun with Sherlock.

For once he was happy about the height difference between him and Sherlock. He looked up through his lashes and gave a coy smile, lightly pushing Sherlock back with two fingers.

"I can certainly try, you do seem to have [i]some[/i] potential. I have always liked a challenge."

"Do go on," Sherlock purred, head a top folded hands.

"Well, as you know from your work, body language is everything- manipulating yours, and reading the other person's. This should be easy for you. Make sure every aspect of your body is focused on your target- lean towards them, casual touch them, keep your eyes focused on them. Checking your watch or phone gives the impression that you're waiting to leave. Also, touch sensitive areas on your body, brushing your neck, licking your lips- the other person will unconsciously pick up on this, and their brain will interpret it as you thinking about kissing them."

"Ok, why don't we give that a try, see what you can do? Show me your body language."

((Yeah, this one should be no problem))

((Yes, cerainly! Vey, vey sexy! But ehm... I am kind of confused right now... Who is supposed to flirt with who? x) ))

((Oops. I was having John ask Sherlock to give it a try))