PROMT: SCARF. thnx shannon bby<3
right, if you don't like slash, please ignore this post. it will not please your eyes haha!
Title: But Those Clothes Would Look So Much Better On My Bedroom Floor
Pairings: John/Sherlock
Rating: hmm... definately over 15, some smut in this >:]
Summary: John has fallen for Sherlock and to be honest, he never knew there were so many things you could do with a scarf.
A/N: the characters are not mine. that belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. the 21st century style is not mine. that belongs to BBC/Moffat/Gratiss
John always wondered where Sherlock got his clothes. He always seemed to be dressed up for something incredibly important. Holmes wore a tight fitted buttoned shirt tucked into his dress trousers. Sometimes, he wore a matching blazer to go with the trousers. His shoes were black, pointed and shiny. And whenever they went outside of their flat for an investigation, he wore his long, navy blue jacket with a matching scarf that was tied into a 'New York Knot'. If you compare the doctor to the world's only consulting detective, he looked like a farmer. Even though John dressed in smart-casual, he always wore a cardigan or a big woolly jumper over his shirt. Maybe he compared himself to Sherlock too much.
They had been to a small murder scene that Lestrade called Sherlock to. He solved the case within 5 minutes of arriving there. A young couple were arguing and one thing lead to another and he pushed her off of the balcony. She fell to her death. He felt guilty and hung himself leaving a note saying 'I'm sorry x'. Easy. Sherlock wondered why Lestrade even called him out to this one; it was that simple. John couldn't help but be amazed by how he solves some of the most complicated investigations in a matter of minutes. It's something that he really admires about the taller male. His eyes seemed to observe every small detail about Sherlock. His hair made his skin paler than it was; his mouth was ajar whenever he pondered something when they were sat in the flat; and his eyes, my God, his eyes! They were a bluey-grey colour and when he concentrated whilst examining a corpse's cuts, bruises and abnormalities, the pupils dilated. When this happened, Watson knew he had found something obscure. Every time John took in all these details, he couldn't help but hope that Sherlock noticed he was wearing a different aftershave today.
When they got back into the flat with their chinese take-away, they were sat quite far away from each other. Watson sat in his chair near the fireplace and Holmes sat on the sofa at the other end of the room. It was silent in the flat, except from the slurp now and again from the noodles. It was so quiet, they could hear Mrs Hudson watching her ITV1 dramas. Now and again, John would look from his food to glance at Sherlock. Some of those times, he caught him looking, making the doctor blush. He couldn't help it. There was just something, that eccentricity that he has that makes John's heart flutter.
"Tea would be nice, thank you," Sherlock said out of the blue. John didn't really like it when he randomly gave out orders, especially after long silences. He did as requested and made the detective and himself a cup of tea. He handed the hot mug to the other man and sat back in his armchair. Again, silence for ages. He was used to not talking a lot. Sherlock was usually solving a case and needed absolute silence to concentrate so you'd had to shut up. Watson was slowly drifting off to sleep in the chair until he ordered him to do something again. Like a dog obeying his master, he yet again followed his order. Maybe he should go to bed after this command.
Walking past Sherlock going to his bed, he felt a tug on his woolly jumper. He looked down and saw his flat mate's hand holding onto him.
"Wha--" he began.
"I saw you looking at me. When we were eating. You kept blushing when I met your gaze," the other interrupted. John was blushing at him even speaking of it.
"Well, erm... Yeah," stuttered the doctor. He didn't know what to do or say. Yes, he'd slowly admitted to himself that he had grown feelings for Sherlock over time, but what could he do? He hasn't felt like this before. It was the first time he had ever felt this way towards a man. Yeah, most definitely towards a woman... But he had no idea on how to make the first move (or even if to actually make a move). However, he didn't have to worry about that. Sherlock stood up slowly, still holding onto the jumper. He never lost eye contact when he moved. Watson was worried. 'Had it creeped him out by staring? Oh God... What if he's going to kick me out of the flat?' he thought.
"John," Holmes didn't sound serious; a surprise to both of them. He put his hands on either side of his face. "I don't mind you looking,"
"Huh? R-Really?" Watson was even surprised he came out with a reply. He was expecting himself just to jump on Sherlock right there, right now. He wouldn't care if Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft or even fucking Moriarty barged in. He had serious feelings for Sherlock, and he loved it.
"Yes," he replied. "and I can tell in your eyes that you have feelings for me," John blushed again, a pink tint colouring his cheeks. Slowly, Sherlock lowered his head at a slight tilt near John and he kissed him softly on the lips. It took a while for the doctor to realise what was happening, so long that the detective started to pull back. However, his mind finally kicked in and kissed Sherlock back. It was slow at first, getting to know each others technique. Then John ran his tongue on Sherlock's bottom lip, something he never thought he would be doing. To be honest, they both couldn't believe that they were now making out. Holmes had began to push Watson towards his bedroom whilst continuing the kiss.
"Mmm-- wait," John broke off the kiss momentarily. "get your scarf,"
"What? Why?" Sherlock did as he was told and picked it up off of the sofa. By now, the two men were quite turned on and they started from where they left off. They both hurried up the stairs into Sherlock's room. It was quite tidy compared to the living room and kitchen. There was some notes on the wall from previous cases and the bed looked like it had hardly been slept in (which was no surprise to John as he found him wide awake whenever he came down from bed). The taller male locked the bedroom door and then turned to face the ex-war doctor with a smirk. A smirk that John had not seen before. He was then pushed onto the bed and kissed roughly. It was filled with teeth and tongue. They began to grind against each others thighs. Moans escaped both of their mouths.
"Oh, fuck-- ohhh..." John gasped. Sherlock suddenly stopped. John didn't like his sudden outbursts but he most certainly didn't like his sudden pauses. Sherlock looked down at him and smirked again. He rolled over so that Watson was on top of him.
"Blindfold me," he demanded. John smirked also, glad that his idea of bringing the scarf was a good thing. "now, John, you're a smart man and I ensure you that whatever you decided to do... Well... I'm sure that both you and I shall enjoy it," John's grin was so wide, he was glad Sherlock didn't see it, as it might have been very off-putting.
John had never done this before but it seemed to come natural to him. Socks were already off; one hassle taken care of. He unbuttoned Sherlock's tight fitted plum shirt and dropped it on the floor. Then he unbuttoned his dark trousers, slid them off and threw them on the floor also. He stood back and just stared at the man infront of him. He was pale all over, boxers getting tighter from his erection and he was gasping from pleasure. John wasn't even doing anything to him yet, he thinks it's because Holmes can't see what he's going to do next. Torture but pleasure at the same time. Watson liked being in charge all of a sudden. He hovered over him, his lips millimeters away from Sherlock's mouth, but he didn't kiss him. He ran his hand slowly down the detective's torso all the way down to the waistband of his boxers. Not only did he hear the gasp, but John felt it against his mouth. His breathy moans as the doctor gently rubbed is hand against the taller man's cock through the cloth, which was now at its hardest. Sherlock gasped more every time John traced his length.
"Fuck, John," Sherlock moaned.
"Do you like it?" He grinned although the other could not see.
"Like? I think the term you need is adore, now, if you don't mind, shall we move on?"
"Excuse me... I'm in charge," and John grinded against Sherlock's dick. He received another moan. "I'm not finished yet," So John began to kiss where he earlier trailed his fingers and pulled down the boxers. He threw them on the floor with the rest of Holmes' wardrobe. After that action, he stripped himself completely and placed them with the rest of the clothes. He was now sat with Sherlock's hard penis in front of him. He was slightly nervous but there was so much adrenaline running through his veins. John licked it all the way up to the head with the tip of his tongue. Sherlock was in so much pleasure just from this, he had to prevent himself from coming so soon. Watson took in the detective's dick and began to get a rhythm. Sherlock clumsily found John's bobbing head with his hand and grabbed onto some of his hair. Not long afterward, he thrust into Waston's mouth and came. He let out an almighty groan of pleasure. The other swallowed.
"Can- Can I take off the blindfold?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.
"Yeah," John replied and moved to lay next to Sherlock. They looked at each other and smiled. But it wasn't over yet. Sherlock flicked John over and grabbed his wrists. "Wha-What are you doing?!" Sherlock tied his wrists together with the scarf and he opened his draw. He grabbed some lube. John was going to ask but thought it was best if he didn't do so. Holmes covered his first two fingers with lube and put one of them in John. He gasped and Sherlock smirked. He inserted another one and began to scissor. Watson moaned and his erection grew more. He withdrew his fingers and spread some lube on his cock.
"It'll hurt at first, but you'll enjoy it soon," his voice was deep and evil-sounding.
"It better bloody be-- oh, God!" John said through gritted teeth as Sherlock inserted himself inside the smaller man. He began to thrust inside him slowly so both of them could get used to the feeling. Soon, the detective thrust faster. Moans coming from the pillow reassured Holmes that Watson was enjoying it. Soon, John wanted more. "Fff-- Harder..." he kept repeating. Sherlock did so and harder still. He reaced around and grabbed John penis and began to stroke it at the same time. He didn't get the timing exactly perfect but not long afterward, both of the men came. Holmes then laid next to Watson. They drowsily stared into each others eyes and smiled. "Erm... Can you untie me now, please?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry," he threw the scarf onto the pile of clothes. They laid in silence for a while; John's head on Sherlock's chest with the taller man holding the smaller closer. "John?"
"Hmm?"
"You were wearing a different aftershave today," Watson looked up at Holmes. "I like it."
John smiled into Sherlock's chest and they both soon drifted off into a calm sleep in each others company.
Title: But Those Clothes Would Look So Much Better On My Bedroom Floor
Pairings: John/Sherlock
Rating: hmm... definately over 15, some smut in this >:]
Summary: John has fallen for Sherlock and to be honest, he never knew there were so many things you could do with a scarf.
A/N: the characters are not mine. that belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. the 21st century style is not mine. that belongs to BBC/Moffat/Gratiss
John always wondered where Sherlock got his clothes. He always seemed to be dressed up for something incredibly important. Holmes wore a tight fitted buttoned shirt tucked into his dress trousers. Sometimes, he wore a matching blazer to go with the trousers. His shoes were black, pointed and shiny. And whenever they went outside of their flat for an investigation, he wore his long, navy blue jacket with a matching scarf that was tied into a 'New York Knot'. If you compare the doctor to the world's only consulting detective, he looked like a farmer. Even though John dressed in smart-casual, he always wore a cardigan or a big woolly jumper over his shirt. Maybe he compared himself to Sherlock too much.
They had been to a small murder scene that Lestrade called Sherlock to. He solved the case within 5 minutes of arriving there. A young couple were arguing and one thing lead to another and he pushed her off of the balcony. She fell to her death. He felt guilty and hung himself leaving a note saying 'I'm sorry x'. Easy. Sherlock wondered why Lestrade even called him out to this one; it was that simple. John couldn't help but be amazed by how he solves some of the most complicated investigations in a matter of minutes. It's something that he really admires about the taller male. His eyes seemed to observe every small detail about Sherlock. His hair made his skin paler than it was; his mouth was ajar whenever he pondered something when they were sat in the flat; and his eyes, my God, his eyes! They were a bluey-grey colour and when he concentrated whilst examining a corpse's cuts, bruises and abnormalities, the pupils dilated. When this happened, Watson knew he had found something obscure. Every time John took in all these details, he couldn't help but hope that Sherlock noticed he was wearing a different aftershave today.
When they got back into the flat with their chinese take-away, they were sat quite far away from each other. Watson sat in his chair near the fireplace and Holmes sat on the sofa at the other end of the room. It was silent in the flat, except from the slurp now and again from the noodles. It was so quiet, they could hear Mrs Hudson watching her ITV1 dramas. Now and again, John would look from his food to glance at Sherlock. Some of those times, he caught him looking, making the doctor blush. He couldn't help it. There was just something, that eccentricity that he has that makes John's heart flutter.
"Tea would be nice, thank you," Sherlock said out of the blue. John didn't really like it when he randomly gave out orders, especially after long silences. He did as requested and made the detective and himself a cup of tea. He handed the hot mug to the other man and sat back in his armchair. Again, silence for ages. He was used to not talking a lot. Sherlock was usually solving a case and needed absolute silence to concentrate so you'd had to shut up. Watson was slowly drifting off to sleep in the chair until he ordered him to do something again. Like a dog obeying his master, he yet again followed his order. Maybe he should go to bed after this command.
Walking past Sherlock going to his bed, he felt a tug on his woolly jumper. He looked down and saw his flat mate's hand holding onto him.
"Wha--" he began.
"I saw you looking at me. When we were eating. You kept blushing when I met your gaze," the other interrupted. John was blushing at him even speaking of it.
"Well, erm... Yeah," stuttered the doctor. He didn't know what to do or say. Yes, he'd slowly admitted to himself that he had grown feelings for Sherlock over time, but what could he do? He hasn't felt like this before. It was the first time he had ever felt this way towards a man. Yeah, most definitely towards a woman... But he had no idea on how to make the first move (or even if to actually make a move). However, he didn't have to worry about that. Sherlock stood up slowly, still holding onto the jumper. He never lost eye contact when he moved. Watson was worried. 'Had it creeped him out by staring? Oh God... What if he's going to kick me out of the flat?' he thought.
"John," Holmes didn't sound serious; a surprise to both of them. He put his hands on either side of his face. "I don't mind you looking,"
"Huh? R-Really?" Watson was even surprised he came out with a reply. He was expecting himself just to jump on Sherlock right there, right now. He wouldn't care if Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Mycroft or even fucking Moriarty barged in. He had serious feelings for Sherlock, and he loved it.
"Yes," he replied. "and I can tell in your eyes that you have feelings for me," John blushed again, a pink tint colouring his cheeks. Slowly, Sherlock lowered his head at a slight tilt near John and he kissed him softly on the lips. It took a while for the doctor to realise what was happening, so long that the detective started to pull back. However, his mind finally kicked in and kissed Sherlock back. It was slow at first, getting to know each others technique. Then John ran his tongue on Sherlock's bottom lip, something he never thought he would be doing. To be honest, they both couldn't believe that they were now making out. Holmes had began to push Watson towards his bedroom whilst continuing the kiss.
"Mmm-- wait," John broke off the kiss momentarily. "get your scarf,"
"What? Why?" Sherlock did as he was told and picked it up off of the sofa. By now, the two men were quite turned on and they started from where they left off. They both hurried up the stairs into Sherlock's room. It was quite tidy compared to the living room and kitchen. There was some notes on the wall from previous cases and the bed looked like it had hardly been slept in (which was no surprise to John as he found him wide awake whenever he came down from bed). The taller male locked the bedroom door and then turned to face the ex-war doctor with a smirk. A smirk that John had not seen before. He was then pushed onto the bed and kissed roughly. It was filled with teeth and tongue. They began to grind against each others thighs. Moans escaped both of their mouths.
"Oh, fuck-- ohhh..." John gasped. Sherlock suddenly stopped. John didn't like his sudden outbursts but he most certainly didn't like his sudden pauses. Sherlock looked down at him and smirked again. He rolled over so that Watson was on top of him.
"Blindfold me," he demanded. John smirked also, glad that his idea of bringing the scarf was a good thing. "now, John, you're a smart man and I ensure you that whatever you decided to do... Well... I'm sure that both you and I shall enjoy it," John's grin was so wide, he was glad Sherlock didn't see it, as it might have been very off-putting.
John had never done this before but it seemed to come natural to him. Socks were already off; one hassle taken care of. He unbuttoned Sherlock's tight fitted plum shirt and dropped it on the floor. Then he unbuttoned his dark trousers, slid them off and threw them on the floor also. He stood back and just stared at the man infront of him. He was pale all over, boxers getting tighter from his erection and he was gasping from pleasure. John wasn't even doing anything to him yet, he thinks it's because Holmes can't see what he's going to do next. Torture but pleasure at the same time. Watson liked being in charge all of a sudden. He hovered over him, his lips millimeters away from Sherlock's mouth, but he didn't kiss him. He ran his hand slowly down the detective's torso all the way down to the waistband of his boxers. Not only did he hear the gasp, but John felt it against his mouth. His breathy moans as the doctor gently rubbed is hand against the taller man's cock through the cloth, which was now at its hardest. Sherlock gasped more every time John traced his length.
"Fuck, John," Sherlock moaned.
"Do you like it?" He grinned although the other could not see.
"Like? I think the term you need is adore, now, if you don't mind, shall we move on?"
"Excuse me... I'm in charge," and John grinded against Sherlock's dick. He received another moan. "I'm not finished yet," So John began to kiss where he earlier trailed his fingers and pulled down the boxers. He threw them on the floor with the rest of Holmes' wardrobe. After that action, he stripped himself completely and placed them with the rest of the clothes. He was now sat with Sherlock's hard penis in front of him. He was slightly nervous but there was so much adrenaline running through his veins. John licked it all the way up to the head with the tip of his tongue. Sherlock was in so much pleasure just from this, he had to prevent himself from coming so soon. Watson took in the detective's dick and began to get a rhythm. Sherlock clumsily found John's bobbing head with his hand and grabbed onto some of his hair. Not long afterward, he thrust into Waston's mouth and came. He let out an almighty groan of pleasure. The other swallowed.
"Can- Can I take off the blindfold?" he asked, trying to catch his breath.
"Yeah," John replied and moved to lay next to Sherlock. They looked at each other and smiled. But it wasn't over yet. Sherlock flicked John over and grabbed his wrists. "Wha-What are you doing?!" Sherlock tied his wrists together with the scarf and he opened his draw. He grabbed some lube. John was going to ask but thought it was best if he didn't do so. Holmes covered his first two fingers with lube and put one of them in John. He gasped and Sherlock smirked. He inserted another one and began to scissor. Watson moaned and his erection grew more. He withdrew his fingers and spread some lube on his cock.
"It'll hurt at first, but you'll enjoy it soon," his voice was deep and evil-sounding.
"It better bloody be-- oh, God!" John said through gritted teeth as Sherlock inserted himself inside the smaller man. He began to thrust inside him slowly so both of them could get used to the feeling. Soon, the detective thrust faster. Moans coming from the pillow reassured Holmes that Watson was enjoying it. Soon, John wanted more. "Fff-- Harder..." he kept repeating. Sherlock did so and harder still. He reaced around and grabbed John penis and began to stroke it at the same time. He didn't get the timing exactly perfect but not long afterward, both of the men came. Holmes then laid next to Watson. They drowsily stared into each others eyes and smiled. "Erm... Can you untie me now, please?"
"Oh, yes. Sorry," he threw the scarf onto the pile of clothes. They laid in silence for a while; John's head on Sherlock's chest with the taller man holding the smaller closer. "John?"
"Hmm?"
"You were wearing a different aftershave today," Watson looked up at Holmes. "I like it."
John smiled into Sherlock's chest and they both soon drifted off into a calm sleep in each others company.