[It seemed like a case was Sherlock's only hope of keeping his hands to himself, being that it was the only thing to hold his interest like John did. It made him all the more determined to solve this quickly so they could get back to it.
He checks over the body exhaustively, learning that the victim had a coke habit and broke a few nails in the struggle. He nods as John speaks to confirm what he already suspected.]
Just like Jack. [He murmured, his eyes flicking over the body all the while.]
Grabbed her from behind. [There were obvious bruises on her arms from where he'd pinned them.] She struggled. [He picks up her hands, finding a bit of dried blood under her nails.] Get a sample of this. [He said, pointing out the blood to the forensic team.] It could be hers, or maybe she scratched him.
He slit her throat after a few moments and carved her up postmortem. That's his MO. [Lestrade questioned who he was talking about, and Sherlock ignored him completely.] Your next murder will be on Hanbury Street, Inspector, eight days from now. Will there be anything else? [He inquires politely, reveling in all the stunned looks he garnered, smirking a little as he glanced at John.]
[ John is, as always, fascinated as he watches Sherlock go through his process of deduction, seemingly picking things out of thin air. His looks is among those stunned, of course, although he's the only one that grins back at the detective. The others, namely Anderson and Donovan, look rather annoyed and put off. Lestrade just looks resigned, poor man. ]
Fantastic.
[ The word is out of the doctor's lips before he can stop it. Of course, praise from him is nothing new. What is a bit new, however, is the way he's admiring Sherlock with his eyes. No one seems to pick up on it, save Sally, who looks a bit suspicious. Poor John doesn't notice it.
There is a secret shared between the consulting detective and his doctor now, after all. The sooner this case is solved, the better, so they can return to doing certain other things. And God help him, but John wants to pull the taller man aside and snog the hell out of him, right there and then.
But, unfortunately, he can't. Not yet, anyway. Lestrade was questioning, and more firmly this time, just how Sherlock knows when and where the next murder will be. John flashes Sherlock a sort of helpless, apologetic look. He wants nothing more than to retreat back to their flat, as well, but truth be told... he's a bit curious, himself. ]
[Sherlock enjoys the stunned silence thoroughly, especially when it's finally broken by John's praise. He gives him a slight smile, holding back the desire to just whisk out of there and kiss the breath out of him as soon as he could.
He's annoyingly dragged from that train of thought when Lestrade starts asking questions. He shares that silently yearning gaze with John for just a split second before addressing their obvious questions.]
What we're dealing with here is a copycat killer of Jack the Ripper. Someone with medical training, just like Jack, based on the cuts. Jack had five canonical killings, and this is the first. The second was eight days after the first on Hanbury Street.
[He answers whatever lingering questions Lestrade has, looking fairly antsy about getting out of there. He finally gets impatient after a few moments.] If you have any more questions, you can text me. Now, though, I have a previous engagement. [He was certainly looking forward to being there to conclude the case several days later, but now he wanted to get back home and start back with their experiment. It was starting to get difficult not to reach out for John's hand or just haul off and kiss him.] Come along, John.
[ Lestrade still looks rather surprised, and with good reason. Sherlock had solved a case in record time, and apparently had another 'engagement' to attend to. Of course, they had no idea said engagement involved his flatmate, much snogging, and most likely the removal of articles of clothing. That thought alone made John's insides do flips of anticipation. He swallowed hard, pretending calm and casual as was the norm, and merely nodded to Lestrade. He noted Donovan still looked wary, but he ignored it. ]
Have a good evening, then.
[ With that, he ducked his head a bit, and resisted the urge to go racing after Sherlock and rush them into the nearest alley. He had a bit more control than that, being a grown man and all, so surely he could wait until they were safely back in their flat. Honestly, he couldn't think of a time when 221B Baker Street had looked more welcome and inviting. But all the 'waiting' was really catching up to him. Once they were a safe distance from the crime scene, and he was walking at the other's side, did he finally allow a slow, amused smile. His voice was still quiet, even though they were out of the range of the police. ]
Sure they're not going to become suspicious? You, solving a case that fast and hurrying off like this?
[Sherlock didn't much care if anyone had gotten suspicious in the end. People had been saying things about the two of them since they'd met, so it didn't really matter that much, in truth. He was feeling the anticipation just like John was, so all that mattered to him right now was getting out of there.
He met John's gaze when they were far enough away from the crime scene, offering a slight smirk in return.]
I've had to hold their hands through far simpler deductions than this one. I'm not terribly worried.
[His expression turns contemplative after a moment.]
Would it be so terrible if they knew? [He asks, curious how John felt about anyone knowing. He knew it was a bit early to be saying anything about it, but he was wondering if John would be proud of being in a relationship with him or want to keep it a secret.]
[ John looked over at the taller man, studying his expression thoughtfully. Instead of answering right away, he simply slipped his hand comfortably into Sherlock's, giving it an encouraging squeeze. It didn't matter if they were far enough away from the crime scene or not. He decided he really didn't care. The soft smile and tender look on his face was for Sherlock and Sherlock alone. ]
No, Sherlock. It wouldn't be terrible at all if they knew.
[ He absently licked his lower lip, thinking for a brief moment how to explain it without offending Sherlock. Oh, he most certainly wanted this new development between them, that much should have been quite obvious by now. ]
Its still just very new, this thing we have. I don't feel like we should have to explain ourselves to anyone yet... and I'm not exactly sure a crime scene with a dead body just lying there is the best time to tell everyone. [ He paused, chuckling lightly in dry amusement. ] But you should know, next time Donovan calls you a 'freak,' I'm likely to just punch her, even if she is a woman.
[Sherlock watches John for a long moment, hips lips quirking into a slight smile when his hand finds his. He felt that strange sensation in his chest again, a sort of tingling warmth at the knowledge that John would be alright with the rest of the world knowing about them.
He gives a nod of understanding when John explains it. Sherlock really didn't care what anyone thought, but that didn't stop him from wanting to understand exactly what they were before showing anyone else.][He replies, smirking when John chuckles. His expression is decidedly approving when John's protective instinct kicks in.]
I'm sure no one will blame you for that. [He was just fine with ignoring all of her insults, but he certainly wouldn't argue if John finally tried to teach her a lesson. It was comforting to know that John was there for him in every capacity, even though he had always considered himself an independent creature.
He hailed them a cab with his free hand, refusing to let go of John. His impatience was almost tangible, and it was only John's hand in his that kept him from ranting and raving about why they weren't home yet.]
Probably wouldn't look good on my record, going around punching police officers like that, though.
[ John wouldn't have blamed Sherlock for ranting and raving. He's rather impatient himself, although he's a bit less likely to show off said impatience. As it is, it seems to take too long for a cab to finally stop, even if it was probably only a minute or two. Once it does, he almost stubbornly does not release the younger man's hand, crawling into the back seat behind him. After the cabbie is informed of their destination, he finally settles back, forcing himself to let out a slow breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles crookedly, almost feeling sheepish and a bit shy in his anxiety to return to their flat. As much as he wants to snog the other man right there and then, he instead controls himself, deciding instead to let the anticipation keep building. What he does do, however, is take Sherlock's hand and bring it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles gently - tenderly, while holding his gaze, and the unspoken connection between them. He holds that hand in both of his own in his lap, then, running his fingers over the other's hand, caressing, and stroking idle little patterns. Calm and content as he might appear outwardly, inwardly, John is willing the cabbie to go faster, and for there not to be any traffic. ]
[Sherlock would swear up and down that everyone and everything in London was out to make this trip back to the flat as agonizingly long as possible. He climbs into the cab, sighing irritably to himself as he calculated in his head that the very soonest they could be home was fifteen minutes, which may as well have been years for how far off it seemed.
He tapped the fingers of his free hand impatiently on his knee as they rode, only pausing when he looked at John and relaxed a bit when he saw his smile. He watched, transfixed, as John picked up his hand and kissed his fingers, smiling softly at the calming gesture. John managed to relax him quite easily, his fingers stilling as he enjoyed the attention. He leans over to rest his head against John's, counting down the minutes until they were home.
When they finally arrived, he tossed some money at the cabbie and all but dragged John up the stairs, feeling like he only took his first real breath as soon as he pressed their door closed.]
[ John relaxed against Sherlock in the cab, his smile softening even though inwardly, he was still buzzing with anticipation. He was still surprised and humbled to know this impossible, lovely, brilliant man would become so emotionally invested in an ordinary man like him, would even want him... it wasn't something he could put into words. Then again, he probably was the more romantic of the two.
Once they had arrived, he couldn't help but chuckle in amused surprise as he found himself practically dragged up the stairs and into their flat. Of course, he was just as excited that it would finally be happening, and hopefully with no further interruptions. Once they were inside, and the door was closed... did he finally just stop and take in the other man's appearance. Releasing his hand, he stepped back and paused to enjoy that brief, quiet moment, where it was just the two of them. The calm before the storm, as it were. But then, his smile broke out into a full grin, and he couldn't hold back any longer. With that, John closed the distance between them, and reaching up to take Sherlock's face in his hands, pulled him down and leaned up to kiss him. It was a slow, hungry kiss, growing in heat and passion and so very, very good. ]
[Sherlock would certainly tell John he was being ridiculous if he ever were to think that he somehow wasn't worthy of his attention. John may not be perfect, but then Sherlock didn't really believe perfection existed. He did believe that John was perfect for him, though. He made him better, and called him brilliant when others called him a freak. That alone made all the difference for someone so used to being written off and insulted at every turn just because he was a bit (read: extremely) eccentric.
He had waited far too long for this without even knowing it until now. He always hoped someone would understand him like John did, though he certainly never had expected it. He would have suggested this far sooner had he known just how much John would come to mean to him.
He relaxed a bit from the frenetic pace he used getting up to the flat once they were there, leaning against the door and watching as John watched him. He watched as John broke into a smile and felt his heart stutter in his chest when John moved to meet him. It felt like he was drawn into the kiss like some unseen force was tugging him into it. He never would have guessed that kissing John Watson would feel so natural. He pressed deeper into the kiss, hurridly shedding his coat and scarf to toss them over the couch.
Bedroom? [he asked breathily against his lips, sure that more room would benefit this endeavor quite a bit.]
[ To put it simply, they just functioned better together - two men, so very different who understood and complemented each other. It helped, of course, that they were clearly attracted to each other on the physical level as well. Meanwhile, John's head was already starting to swim and his thoughts were becoming fuzzy as he kissed Sherlock so hungrily. When the other man's one, questioning word registered in his mind, however, his own heart skipped a beat or two. ]
Yeah, alright. [ He returned just as breathily, shucking out of his own coat and tossing it aside, not caring much where it would fall. Honestly, no, he didn't think they were going too fast. If anything, it had taken them centuries to get to this point - everything had led up to this. Breaking the kiss, he quickly snatched up Sherlock's hand and tugged him towards his room. John's room was probably cleaner - being former military and all, it was bred into him to keep a spotless bed and all - but it was upstairs, and Sherlock's room was just closer. Once there, he turned back to the younger man, knowing there were so many different ways this could go... but first, he just wanted there to be more skin. Right now, there was too much clothing between them. Pressing a quick kiss to the long, elegant neck, his slightly trembling fingers began working the buttons of Sherlock's shirt. Once unbuttoned, he pushed the shirt off that lean frame. Without thinking, his hands fell to fumble a bit with unbuckling his trousers next. ]
[John meant a great deal to Sherlock, that much was certain, though he had no idea just how much. It got to the point before all this that Sherlock couldn't stand whenever John would go to Sarah's simply because he wasn't there with him. His thoughts would quickly spiral out of control at that point, and had him thinking of if John ever ended up getting married and moving out. Just the thought of it unsettled him. What would he do when someone so perfectly there as John was suddenly gone? He couldn't handle the idea, which led him to acting strange for days before finally entertaining the thought that maybe he could replace Sarah. He didn't expect it to work, but John was remarkably obliging to the idea.
He reluctantly let John break the kiss to lead him into the bedroom, anticipation welling up in his chest at the knowledge that they were going through with this. He didn't care what happened, he was not going to let this be interrupted a second time. He glanced over John, watching every move and unable to wait for the opportunity to study him without those pesky clothes in the way. John apparently had the same idea, and Sherlock just watched as John moved to kiss his neck and remove his shirt. He felt the tremble in his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt, so he moved his own up over John's hands and over his arms to still him, squeezing his arms in a calming gesture. As far as he was concerned, they had all the time in the world.
That didn't mean he wasn't impatient as well, of course, moving his fingers to start getting John out of his shirt as well. He pushed it off his shoulders and just dragged his hands over his torso appreciatively for a moment before slipping his fingers just underneath the waistband of his trousers to tug him in against him, growling softly at the bit of friction. He realized it had been far too long -nearly forty-five seconds- since their last kiss, so he kissed him again as they worked at getting each other's trousers off.]
So I've decided I have two favorite Sherlocks and you, m'dear, are one of them. <3mightbebloggingNovember 24 2011, 02:16:10 UTC
[ This thing between them had been growing almost since day one. Of course, he hadn't known what it was then. John had been bound and determined to be attracted to women, which he was, but none, even the pleasant Sarah had ever affected him as much as Sherlock had - both physically and mentally. To have crossed the boundaries into this physical part of their developing relationship was indescribable in how excitingly frightening and wonderful it was. Frightening, perhaps, because he felt like he could hardly control himself, control this... but he wasn't looking back. The time for looking back had been ages ago, when he'd killed a man for the detective, or probably when he'd decided this was the life for him - at 221B Baker Street, with the eccentric, impossibly insufferable Sherlock Holmes.
When Sherlock's steadier hands moved over his and then squeezed his arms, John met his gaze and smiled crookedly. The nerves were still there, yes, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But he gave the slightest nod of agreement, of gratitude, in that they had plenty of time... and this was what they really needed. However things went... it would all be fine. Better than fine, he hoped. Those comforting fingers moved to his chest, leaving behind fiery trails in their wake. He was certain in that moment that he wanted those fingers all over his body, touching everywhere, and even then, that wouldn't be enough. When he was tugged in closer, he went willingly, and a low groan escaped his lips at that pleasant bit of friction. He eagerly accepted that kiss, again memorizing the surprisingly soft feel of Sherlock's heart-shaped lips, and pressing his tongue forward to taste him again, and seek out his tongue. It was so very easy to get lost in just a kiss, a simple human touch that was often taken for-granted in intimate settings like these.
When their trouser's were finally undone, John broke away from the kiss with a soft grunt, deciding removing the rest of his own clothing might be easier. He practically kicked out of his shoes, then, without putting another hesitating thought into it, he tugged his trousers and briefs down, and then off. They, too, were tossed haphazardly aside. If he'd stopped to think about it, he might have become even more nervous at the thought of being completely naked and open to scrutiny by the consulting detective who didn't miss anything. But the clothes were off, and he was naked, his hardened arousal there and aware and that was that. It helped that he was just as eager to see Sherlock as vulnerable as he felt, too, and admire the rest of he body that went with his otherworldly face and lovely torso. As it was, his heart still pounded with adrenaline, anticipation, and nerves. ]
Omggg <333 You're one of my favorite Johns too! I'm going to cuddle the hell out of you~shutupimageniusNovember 24 2011, 03:32:29 UTC
[Whatever it was that was constantly bringing them closer and closer together, Sherlock was certainly grateful for it. He never felt the urge to want to be close with people before, so it was almost as if it had all been saved up for John to the point where he wanted no space between them. No lines, no boundaries, no walls. It was incredible and terrifying at the same time for someone who always kept everyone at a distance until now. He wanted to study John completely, and this was certainly offering him that opportunity.
He watched as John seemed to draw comfort from his touch, extremely interested in that completely new phenomenon. He was the last person anyone would think of to help settle their nerves, but somehow he managed it for John almost effortlessly. He didn't even need words for it. His lips quirked into a slight smile when John looked up at him with that grin, the affection he felt for him staggering in its intensity. Was that love, or was there even a word for what he felt for John? Whatever it was, he was enjoying it, and somehow didn't want to question it just yet. Instead, he concentrated on cataloging everything, from the way John groaned at that bit of friction to the way he kissed and eased his tongue into his mouth.
He was about to protest when John broke the kiss, being that he wasn't done studying the feel and experimenting with technique. He found himself not wanting to argue when he realized John was effectively ridding himself of the rest of his clothing. He couldn't tear his gaze away if he tried as John finished disrobing, leaving Sherlock unashamedly staring at him. A pang of arousal hit him at the fact that John was this turned on just from kissing him, having hoped he wouldn't be the only one afflicted.
He wanted to reach out and touch John everywhere, though he realized after a moment that he should probably get into a similar state of undress. He was uncharacteristically nervous about this, knowing already that John found him attractive, but still unsure because he'd never been in this situation before where he would allow someone to see him completely open and exposed like this. This was John, though, he reminded himself. John knew more about him than anyone and he never turned away, even when faced with some of his darker moods.
He finally psyched himself up enough after kicking his shoes off to remove the rest of his clothing in one fluid motion. He wasn't quite sure what to do at first, and was left just looking at John for a long moment. He then finally reached out to pick up John's hand, threading their fingers together because he knew that would aid in relaxing them both. He smiled when he felt his own nerves melt away, hoping to see the same reaction in John.]
D'aww! We so awesome. :DmightbebloggingNovember 24 2011, 04:08:07 UTC
[ It was quite possible John forgot how to breathe for a moment or two. He didn't expect Sherlock to be anything but absolutely gorgeous, of course, but thinking that, and seeing it for himself were two very different things. So he was also unabashedly staring, drinking in that lean, pale form, all lanky limbs and legs that were also elegant and graceful and, yes, still quite masculine. It made him less self-conscious about his own flawed form, but those familiar fingers entwining themselves with his own and that smile on the other man's face was what really did it. He did relax, probably visibly, returning the smile easily, and reached out his free hand to gently touch the younger man's bare hip, thumb stroking. It was the first of many touches he hoped to have that night. ]
You're perfect.
[ John spoke just above a whisper, brow raised on his softened expression. Cliche or not, it was clear that he meant it, knowing that Sherlock was made more perfect in his imperfections. John had not a doubt in his mind that he was the most fascinating person he would ever meet. And yes, he was very much aroused. It had been some time since he'd been intimate with someone, but there really was so much about Sherlock that turned him on, from his lips, to his mellifluous, deep voice, and just his elegant face in general. And with that, he backed towards the bed, tugging Sherlock along with him. He got on first, laying on his side, facing him of course, until it might be decided who was top or bottom. In the heat of the moments to come, he figured it would come naturally - it wasn't important. Once the other joined him, he simply leaned forward and kissed him, taking Sherlock's free hand and laying it on his chest, welcoming and inviting any and all touch. He could only imagine the consulting detective would want to examine every inch of bare skin, knowing him and how he was. There was also the very real fact that John wanted to do the exact same to him. ]
He checks over the body exhaustively, learning that the victim had a coke habit and broke a few nails in the struggle. He nods as John speaks to confirm what he already suspected.]
Just like Jack. [He murmured, his eyes flicking over the body all the while.]
Grabbed her from behind. [There were obvious bruises on her arms from where he'd pinned them.] She struggled. [He picks up her hands, finding a bit of dried blood under her nails.] Get a sample of this. [He said, pointing out the blood to the forensic team.] It could be hers, or maybe she scratched him.
He slit her throat after a few moments and carved her up postmortem. That's his MO. [Lestrade questioned who he was talking about, and Sherlock ignored him completely.] Your next murder will be on Hanbury Street, Inspector, eight days from now. Will there be anything else? [He inquires politely, reveling in all the stunned looks he garnered, smirking a little as he glanced at John.]
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Fantastic.
[ The word is out of the doctor's lips before he can stop it. Of course, praise from him is nothing new. What is a bit new, however, is the way he's admiring Sherlock with his eyes. No one seems to pick up on it, save Sally, who looks a bit suspicious. Poor John doesn't notice it.
There is a secret shared between the consulting detective and his doctor now, after all. The sooner this case is solved, the better, so they can return to doing certain other things. And God help him, but John wants to pull the taller man aside and snog the hell out of him, right there and then.
But, unfortunately, he can't. Not yet, anyway. Lestrade was questioning, and more firmly this time, just how Sherlock knows when and where the next murder will be. John flashes Sherlock a sort of helpless, apologetic look. He wants nothing more than to retreat back to their flat, as well, but truth be told... he's a bit curious, himself. ]
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He's annoyingly dragged from that train of thought when Lestrade starts asking questions. He shares that silently yearning gaze with John for just a split second before addressing their obvious questions.]
What we're dealing with here is a copycat killer of Jack the Ripper. Someone with medical training, just like Jack, based on the cuts. Jack had five canonical killings, and this is the first. The second was eight days after the first on Hanbury Street.
[He answers whatever lingering questions Lestrade has, looking fairly antsy about getting out of there. He finally gets impatient after a few moments.] If you have any more questions, you can text me. Now, though, I have a previous engagement. [He was certainly looking forward to being there to conclude the case several days later, but now he wanted to get back home and start back with their experiment. It was starting to get difficult not to reach out for John's hand or just haul off and kiss him.] Come along, John.
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Have a good evening, then.
[ With that, he ducked his head a bit, and resisted the urge to go racing after Sherlock and rush them into the nearest alley. He had a bit more control than that, being a grown man and all, so surely he could wait until they were safely back in their flat. Honestly, he couldn't think of a time when 221B Baker Street had looked more welcome and inviting. But all the 'waiting' was really catching up to him. Once they were a safe distance from the crime scene, and he was walking at the other's side, did he finally allow a slow, amused smile. His voice was still quiet, even though they were out of the range of the police. ]
Sure they're not going to become suspicious? You, solving a case that fast and hurrying off like this?
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He met John's gaze when they were far enough away from the crime scene, offering a slight smirk in return.]
I've had to hold their hands through far simpler deductions than this one. I'm not terribly worried.
[His expression turns contemplative after a moment.]
Would it be so terrible if they knew? [He asks, curious how John felt about anyone knowing. He knew it was a bit early to be saying anything about it, but he was wondering if John would be proud of being in a relationship with him or want to keep it a secret.]
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No, Sherlock. It wouldn't be terrible at all if they knew.
[ He absently licked his lower lip, thinking for a brief moment how to explain it without offending Sherlock. Oh, he most certainly wanted this new development between them, that much should have been quite obvious by now. ]
Its still just very new, this thing we have. I don't feel like we should have to explain ourselves to anyone yet... and I'm not exactly sure a crime scene with a dead body just lying there is the best time to tell everyone. [ He paused, chuckling lightly in dry amusement. ] But you should know, next time Donovan calls you a 'freak,' I'm likely to just punch her, even if she is a woman.
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He gives a nod of understanding when John explains it. Sherlock really didn't care what anyone thought, but that didn't stop him from wanting to understand exactly what they were before showing anyone else.][He replies, smirking when John chuckles. His expression is decidedly approving when John's protective instinct kicks in.]
I'm sure no one will blame you for that. [He was just fine with ignoring all of her insults, but he certainly wouldn't argue if John finally tried to teach her a lesson. It was comforting to know that John was there for him in every capacity, even though he had always considered himself an independent creature.
He hailed them a cab with his free hand, refusing to let go of John. His impatience was almost tangible, and it was only John's hand in his that kept him from ranting and raving about why they weren't home yet.]
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[ John wouldn't have blamed Sherlock for ranting and raving. He's rather impatient himself, although he's a bit less likely to show off said impatience. As it is, it seems to take too long for a cab to finally stop, even if it was probably only a minute or two. Once it does, he almost stubbornly does not release the younger man's hand, crawling into the back seat behind him. After the cabbie is informed of their destination, he finally settles back, forcing himself to let out a slow breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. Glancing at Sherlock, he smiles crookedly, almost feeling sheepish and a bit shy in his anxiety to return to their flat. As much as he wants to snog the other man right there and then, he instead controls himself, deciding instead to let the anticipation keep building. What he does do, however, is take Sherlock's hand and bring it up to his lips to kiss his knuckles gently - tenderly, while holding his gaze, and the unspoken connection between them. He holds that hand in both of his own in his lap, then, running his fingers over the other's hand, caressing, and stroking idle little patterns. Calm and content as he might appear outwardly, inwardly, John is willing the cabbie to go faster, and for there not to be any traffic. ]
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He tapped the fingers of his free hand impatiently on his knee as they rode, only pausing when he looked at John and relaxed a bit when he saw his smile. He watched, transfixed, as John picked up his hand and kissed his fingers, smiling softly at the calming gesture. John managed to relax him quite easily, his fingers stilling as he enjoyed the attention. He leans over to rest his head against John's, counting down the minutes until they were home.
When they finally arrived, he tossed some money at the cabbie and all but dragged John up the stairs, feeling like he only took his first real breath as soon as he pressed their door closed.]
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Once they had arrived, he couldn't help but chuckle in amused surprise as he found himself practically dragged up the stairs and into their flat. Of course, he was just as excited that it would finally be happening, and hopefully with no further interruptions. Once they were inside, and the door was closed... did he finally just stop and take in the other man's appearance. Releasing his hand, he stepped back and paused to enjoy that brief, quiet moment, where it was just the two of them. The calm before the storm, as it were. But then, his smile broke out into a full grin, and he couldn't hold back any longer. With that, John closed the distance between them, and reaching up to take Sherlock's face in his hands, pulled him down and leaned up to kiss him. It was a slow, hungry kiss, growing in heat and passion and so very, very good. ]
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He had waited far too long for this without even knowing it until now. He always hoped someone would understand him like John did, though he certainly never had expected it. He would have suggested this far sooner had he known just how much John would come to mean to him.
He relaxed a bit from the frenetic pace he used getting up to the flat once they were there, leaning against the door and watching as John watched him. He watched as John broke into a smile and felt his heart stutter in his chest when John moved to meet him. It felt like he was drawn into the kiss like some unseen force was tugging him into it. He never would have guessed that kissing John Watson would feel so natural. He pressed deeper into the kiss, hurridly shedding his coat and scarf to toss them over the couch.
Bedroom? [he asked breathily against his lips, sure that more room would benefit this endeavor quite a bit.]
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Yeah, alright. [ He returned just as breathily, shucking out of his own coat and tossing it aside, not caring much where it would fall. Honestly, no, he didn't think they were going too fast. If anything, it had taken them centuries to get to this point - everything had led up to this. Breaking the kiss, he quickly snatched up Sherlock's hand and tugged him towards his room. John's room was probably cleaner - being former military and all, it was bred into him to keep a spotless bed and all - but it was upstairs, and Sherlock's room was just closer. Once there, he turned back to the younger man, knowing there were so many different ways this could go... but first, he just wanted there to be more skin. Right now, there was too much clothing between them. Pressing a quick kiss to the long, elegant neck, his slightly trembling fingers began working the buttons of Sherlock's shirt. Once unbuttoned, he pushed the shirt off that lean frame. Without thinking, his hands fell to fumble a bit with unbuckling his trousers next. ]
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He reluctantly let John break the kiss to lead him into the bedroom, anticipation welling up in his chest at the knowledge that they were going through with this. He didn't care what happened, he was not going to let this be interrupted a second time. He glanced over John, watching every move and unable to wait for the opportunity to study him without those pesky clothes in the way. John apparently had the same idea, and Sherlock just watched as John moved to kiss his neck and remove his shirt. He felt the tremble in his hands as he unbuttoned his shirt, so he moved his own up over John's hands and over his arms to still him, squeezing his arms in a calming gesture. As far as he was concerned, they had all the time in the world.
That didn't mean he wasn't impatient as well, of course, moving his fingers to start getting John out of his shirt as well. He pushed it off his shoulders and just dragged his hands over his torso appreciatively for a moment before slipping his fingers just underneath the waistband of his trousers to tug him in against him, growling softly at the bit of friction. He realized it had been far too long -nearly forty-five seconds- since their last kiss, so he kissed him again as they worked at getting each other's trousers off.]
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When Sherlock's steadier hands moved over his and then squeezed his arms, John met his gaze and smiled crookedly. The nerves were still there, yes, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But he gave the slightest nod of agreement, of gratitude, in that they had plenty of time... and this was what they really needed. However things went... it would all be fine. Better than fine, he hoped. Those comforting fingers moved to his chest, leaving behind fiery trails in their wake. He was certain in that moment that he wanted those fingers all over his body, touching everywhere, and even then, that wouldn't be enough. When he was tugged in closer, he went willingly, and a low groan escaped his lips at that pleasant bit of friction. He eagerly accepted that kiss, again memorizing the surprisingly soft feel of Sherlock's heart-shaped lips, and pressing his tongue forward to taste him again, and seek out his tongue. It was so very easy to get lost in just a kiss, a simple human touch that was often taken for-granted in intimate settings like these.
When their trouser's were finally undone, John broke away from the kiss with a soft grunt, deciding removing the rest of his own clothing might be easier. He practically kicked out of his shoes, then, without putting another hesitating thought into it, he tugged his trousers and briefs down, and then off. They, too, were tossed haphazardly aside. If he'd stopped to think about it, he might have become even more nervous at the thought of being completely naked and open to scrutiny by the consulting detective who didn't miss anything. But the clothes were off, and he was naked, his hardened arousal there and aware and that was that. It helped that he was just as eager to see Sherlock as vulnerable as he felt, too, and admire the rest of he body that went with his otherworldly face and lovely torso. As it was, his heart still pounded with adrenaline, anticipation, and nerves. ]
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He watched as John seemed to draw comfort from his touch, extremely interested in that completely new phenomenon. He was the last person anyone would think of to help settle their nerves, but somehow he managed it for John almost effortlessly. He didn't even need words for it. His lips quirked into a slight smile when John looked up at him with that grin, the affection he felt for him staggering in its intensity. Was that love, or was there even a word for what he felt for John? Whatever it was, he was enjoying it, and somehow didn't want to question it just yet. Instead, he concentrated on cataloging everything, from the way John groaned at that bit of friction to the way he kissed and eased his tongue into his mouth.
He was about to protest when John broke the kiss, being that he wasn't done studying the feel and experimenting with technique. He found himself not wanting to argue when he realized John was effectively ridding himself of the rest of his clothing. He couldn't tear his gaze away if he tried as John finished disrobing, leaving Sherlock unashamedly staring at him. A pang of arousal hit him at the fact that John was this turned on just from kissing him, having hoped he wouldn't be the only one afflicted.
He wanted to reach out and touch John everywhere, though he realized after a moment that he should probably get into a similar state of undress. He was uncharacteristically nervous about this, knowing already that John found him attractive, but still unsure because he'd never been in this situation before where he would allow someone to see him completely open and exposed like this. This was John, though, he reminded himself. John knew more about him than anyone and he never turned away, even when faced with some of his darker moods.
He finally psyched himself up enough after kicking his shoes off to remove the rest of his clothing in one fluid motion. He wasn't quite sure what to do at first, and was left just looking at John for a long moment. He then finally reached out to pick up John's hand, threading their fingers together because he knew that would aid in relaxing them both. He smiled when he felt his own nerves melt away, hoping to see the same reaction in John.]
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You're perfect.
[ John spoke just above a whisper, brow raised on his softened expression. Cliche or not, it was clear that he meant it, knowing that Sherlock was made more perfect in his imperfections. John had not a doubt in his mind that he was the most fascinating person he would ever meet. And yes, he was very much aroused. It had been some time since he'd been intimate with someone, but there really was so much about Sherlock that turned him on, from his lips, to his mellifluous, deep voice, and just his elegant face in general. And with that, he backed towards the bed, tugging Sherlock along with him. He got on first, laying on his side, facing him of course, until it might be decided who was top or bottom. In the heat of the moments to come, he figured it would come naturally - it wasn't important. Once the other joined him, he simply leaned forward and kissed him, taking Sherlock's free hand and laying it on his chest, welcoming and inviting any and all touch. He could only imagine the consulting detective would want to examine every inch of bare skin, knowing him and how he was. There was also the very real fact that John wanted to do the exact same to him. ]
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