John considered himself to be a patient. A very patient man, at that. Certainly, he had his moments where he could erupt out of nowhere and it would all come out, but it took a great deal to get him to such a point. A good thing, too, as living with Sherlock would most assuredly have people running for the hills within a week, if not sooner. But John had always liked his situation, his flat, his flatmate. Naturally, there were times when John would happily throw Sherlock into the wall. But most of the time, John was a content man. He was a patient man.
Or so he tried to remind himself these days. He had not known what to expect after that night, when he and Sherlock had taken their relationship to the next level. The only reassurance he had in that department, was that Sherlock would not have a clue, either. Possibly less than a clue, as John actually had been in relationships before. He didn't know, though, if that really counted for anything. Sherlock Holmes was an enigma all on his own in this area, and the usual things might not
( ... )
Unfortunately, Sherlock did not have quite the libido of the average man his age. Of course, he had abstained from this for so long, that even a few spectacular shags with John didn't bring his hormones raging back. It certainly helped, of course, but he was still able to push these hormones aside when there was a case, or other important things for his mind to concentrate on. For what would Sherlock Holmes be without his great intellect? He wasn't going to let all these new feelings get in the way of all that. He was set in his ways, like a man much older than his still young age - a crabby, bitter old soul trapped in the attractive body. Most women would say it was a waste, but the body had been transport for him for so long that he didn't care. Or, at least, he pretended to not care, when and if it ever really bothered him, late at night, when he was alone. He could use his body to his advantage, when manipulating someone for a case... or more recently with this new thing he and John apparently now had together. How could he not
( ... )
It had been a very long time, a very long time indeed, that John had felt the need to mentally count to ten before responding to Sherlock. He wondered, briefly, if their recent development had simply clouded his mind for a time, and that Sherlock was, in fact, still... this. Infuriating, impossible, unpredictable. Their friendship had never changed John's perception of that. He had grown tolerant to it, for the most part, but he was always aware of it. Now, however, looking back to the past few days, it might be said that he had developed some... expectations. The ever-present partner trap, thinking things would change in the name of love, commitment, compromise, sacrifice. Risky. Bloody stupid, in fact. This was Sherlock Holmes, would always be Sherlock Holmes, and some things simply didn't change. For a moment, John felt like an idiot, and that bothered him a great deal more than the body parts in the tub... which also still enraged him
( ... )
It was all amusing, really. Sherlock knew John so well, he could practically hear the man counting in his head. He definitely knew a lecture was coming on - oh, heaven forbid, not that. He almost smirked, almost, but was able to keep his expression schooled into something neutral, even a touch bored. Clearly it would take more than this to get John to change his own ways, in the name of love, however. This was the beginning of one of the lectures of old, long before they had become physically intimate with one another. For a moment, he is even slightly distracted by the commanding tone on John's voice. Since realizing how much it aroused him, it's easy to want to let this develop into some of those physically intimate moments. But, for the moment anyway, Sherlock is determined to see today's experiment through. After John is finished speaking, Sherlock sighs, and turns away from the laptop to face him. He takes on a puppy dog eyes look, those plump lips set just so it appears he is, in fact, apologetic, trying to catch his partner's '
( ... )
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Or so he tried to remind himself these days. He had not known what to expect after that night, when he and Sherlock had taken their relationship to the next level. The only reassurance he had in that department, was that Sherlock would not have a clue, either. Possibly less than a clue, as John actually had been in relationships before. He didn't know, though, if that really counted for anything. Sherlock Holmes was an enigma all on his own in this area, and the usual things might not ( ... )
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It had been a very long time, a very long time indeed, that John had felt the need to mentally count to ten before responding to Sherlock. He wondered, briefly, if their recent development had simply clouded his mind for a time, and that Sherlock was, in fact, still... this. Infuriating, impossible, unpredictable. Their friendship had never changed John's perception of that. He had grown tolerant to it, for the most part, but he was always aware of it. Now, however, looking back to the past few days, it might be said that he had developed some... expectations. The ever-present partner trap, thinking things would change in the name of love, commitment, compromise, sacrifice. Risky. Bloody stupid, in fact. This was Sherlock Holmes, would always be Sherlock Holmes, and some things simply didn't change. For a moment, John felt like an idiot, and that bothered him a great deal more than the body parts in the tub... which also still enraged him ( ... )
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