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 '
( ... )
... Well, this was certainly new. John was thrown off from his lecture and anger for the moment, and was left feeling briefly confused and unbalanced by Sherlock's expression, his words. A moment later, he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. It was all remarkably human, and the explanation and apologetic nature of Sherlock's words seemed sincere... John definitely knew, or had a good idea of, the noise that lived inside of Sherlock's head. And he had been confronted, on a daily basis, with ways in which the man tried to overcome or deal with said noise. He huffed out an irritated breath, and crossed his arms in front of his chest, frowning remaining. "If you have to use body parts for an experiment, just... let me know about it first, yeah? It really isn't very pleasant to come across it unexpectedly. Your playing the violin and smoking a cigarette - and no, you don't, I've relocated them again - isn't quite as gruesome an occurrence
( ... )
While John processed what Sherlock had just said, he continued to hold up his part, looking quite innocent, guilty, and just very human, indeed. It wasn't like he was always a complete machine, of course, and he certainly had his moments of humanity, but he was quite gifted in the art of manipulation. It just made sense to him to use this on even John, who was quite important to him, really, in the grand scheme of things. But he did not understand these emotions, this strange thing called 'love,' and it all but frustrated the hell out of him. It was important for him to understand how things worked, why they worked, all the boundaries and limitations, everything. Yes, sex was quite nice and good for when he needed a distraction, or his body just distracted him, but that was physical. He understood the mechanics and why it made him feel the way he did. What he didn't understand was the feelings he had around John, and how they seemed so intensified now. To experiment and see how far things could be pushed, and what could be done in the
( ... )
John continued to rub Sherlock's shoulders for a few moments in silence, considering Sherlock's words. He knew things were not going to change; he knew his friend too well for that, had lived with him long enough to realize as much. Sherlock was Sherlock, and always would be. But John was John, as well, and he had hoped (stupidly, perhaps) that certain things might obtain a shade of... something. Something which would reflect their new status, though John still wasn't sure what that was. They didn't feel like a couple, no more than they usually did, and perhaps that was just it. They had already showcased all the typical signs of being a couple, except for the sexual aspects. And now those were being covered, as well. The choice of words bothered John, however, and he frowned. Sexual favor. Oh yes, that spoke of deep affection, right there.
"Very romantic, Sherlock," John couldn't help but mutter, and felt somewhat guilty right after. No, Sherlock wasn't romantic in the typical ways. Sherlock wasn't typical at all. Did that not make
( ... )
``\While there were aspects of this new development in their lives that Sherlock quite enjoyed, there were others that irritated him to no end. Oh, pissing John off had been a regular occurrence before all this, that had hadn't really changed. He usually hardly noticed if and when John stormed out of the flat to cool off. Later on, he might get lonely or bored with no one to talk at, or use as a sounding board, but he never went looking for John. His friend always seemed to forgive him. But now, if John got upset, annoyed, or disappointed in him, he didn't just leave altogether to a pub or bar. He no longer seemed to have the desire to find women to date, or simply bed for the evening - he might have left the room, but he wouldn't leave Sherlock. John wouldn't go looking for someone else. So when Sherlock did something like this, deliberately trying to push the boundaries with John, he felt something quite akin to guilt. He did not like it at all. If they were to continue having these sort of days, he didn't want to feel this terribly
( ... )
It took John a few more minutes of gathering his thoughts and feelings and having a firm enough grasp on them before he felt ready to emerge from his room. He headed straight for the bathroom, only to stop short in the doorway to the sight of one Sherlock Holmes wearing latex gloves and a carefully smoothed out expression as he was empyting out the tub... and placing the organs into plastic bags. The sight was so unexpected, John barely even heard what the man said. Between finding the organs in the bath tub after he had woken up this morning, and... this, John wasnt sure what else to expect for the day. Something swelled inside his chest, a feeling of such warmth and wry fondness for this man, this glorious, insufferable, utterly confusing man
( ... )
Sherlock did not really initially respond to John's thank you, other than a little sort of 'hm' of acknowledgement. It was an automatic reply, really, but he was curious to see how John might act further. He was only too aware that the other man was keeping himself busy simply for the sake of appearing to be busy, loitering, fiddling with things. The hand on the back of his neck, combined with the murmured words and the subsequent kiss to his cheek were not wholly surprising, as John was much more prone to showing this kind of affection than Sherlock was. It was strange to be shown affection that was not leading up to something much more vigorous, and definitely less chaste. Sherlock thought that it might be very easy for him to ease his way into the shower with John, as an additional show of gratitude for his actions here. It was tempting to see what John would let him do, how the incident of organs in the shower might be so easily forgotten for that sexual favor or two
( ... )
With the organs removed from the bath tub, John spent a few minutes cleaning it, making a mental note to pick up some things from the store to make sure it was entirely sterilized before even contemplating the idea of taking a bath in here again... if he ever would. Then again, who knew what Sherlock had been up to in various places of their flat. Really, it was probably a wonder John hadn't grown a third arm yet, with Sherlock's habits and experiments creeping into his life, spreading throughout the entire flat. He made quick work of his shower, eager to start the day. Maybe there would be another case. It had only been a few days since the last one, but John was starting to feel restless again. It was odd, because Sherlock didn't seem to feel the same. The tell-tale signs of impending boredom had not yet been detected by John. Cause for concern? Perhaps. But then, their last case had been quite something. Perhaps Sherlock was still riding the high of solving it
( ... )
There were very few people in the world who were properly equipped, mentally, to deal with Sherlock Holmes. It was probably one of the reasons why he had been alone for the better part of his life, and made it easier for him to abstain from any sort of intimacy with other people. John had come as a completely surprise to him, of course, because outwardly, there was nothing out of the ordinary about him. He wasn't nearly as intelligent as Sherlock was - no one was, of course, save his older brother, and Moriarty, perhaps. And yet, John continued to be unpredictable, and surprised Sherlock with his apparent extraordinary qualities. Not just anyone could have easily found a place in Sherlock's heart, after all. For the longest time, it had simply been an organ, not an overly sentimental thing people placed so much value in. Even now, when there wasn't a case on, Sherlock found he wasn't bored. Of course, that was partially because he was experimenting on his 'relationship' with John. He wanted to figure out the boundaries, how far he
( ... )
John could not help it; he yelped softly as Sherlock's warm lips descended on his own. He had been led to his flatmate's bedroom (a secret garden in its own right) feeling more than a little confused, though the brush of lips and suggestive words should have been hint enough. It was just... such a complete opposite of what the day had been so far. John had already decided to try not to be too affectionate this morning, knowing it did not appeal as much to Sherlock as it did to him. It was difficult; John longed to show the other man how much he cared for him, how deeply his desire ran, how small touches of affection could be just as satisfying, as wonderfully fulfilling. It would take time, John knew, and perhaps it would never appeal to Sherlock at all. But today was not going to be a day to try and educate his friend... or so John had thought
( ... )
It was true, affection did not come as easily for Sherlock as it did for John. But then, John had a lot more experience in relationships, and matters of the heart. He was better with friendships, in general. The consulting detective, on the other hand, had abstained from relationships and intimacy for so long that of course he wouldn't easily know how to work his way around it. Chances were, he was likely to become agitated on many future accounts when John tried to show affection, especially if his mind was elsewhere, such as with a case or the like. He'd already made it fairly clear that affection, and sexual activity was off the table during a case - there wasn't enough room in his head for both, and it would only end up distracting him
( ... )
"Nn--!" It was difficult to think, John quickly found out, with Sherlock's weight pressing him down into the bed and that wonderfully clever mouth working at his throat. It was a maddening mixture of arousal, amusement and confusion. He had thought he knew Sherlock fairly well by now, thought little could take him by surprise anymore... But then, this was an entirely new realm, wasn't? With so many new ways for Sherlock to explore and test and absolutely aggravate the wits out of John, take him by surprise. Which this certainly was. John's hands had settled low on Sherlock's waist, as he desperately tried to form a rational thought, just one, inside his head.
"Sod my trouble. Don't... want you to do this just for me," he murmured, trying not to sound too petulant about it. He was frowning, however, and it sounded through in his voice. "You have to want this, too. Or it's just messed up, Sherlock." And yet, oh, there, that sudden sting of teeth, that was good, that was really bloody good, and John gasped as his head fell back and he
( ... )
Sherlock was rather pleased and amused, both, to hear John's little reactions to the simple ministrations he placed on his body. He really didn't have to try all that hard, which was interesting, and made things relatively easy. Of course, all this physical intimacy was still quite new for them both, together, so it would make sense that they could become aroused quickly. And after having abstained from this for so long, Sherlock still finds himself surprised how easily an erection is coaxed out of him, as well. It was fortunate that he enjoyed this so, because he'd just not really had any interest at all in sex. Of course, John was the exception to every rule, as usual, and he was enough to awaken this new sexual side in Sherlock Holmes
( ... )
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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"Very romantic, Sherlock," John couldn't help but mutter, and felt somewhat guilty right after. No, Sherlock wasn't romantic in the typical ways. Sherlock wasn't typical at all. Did that not make ( ... )
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"Sod my trouble. Don't... want you to do this just for me," he murmured, trying not to sound too petulant about it. He was frowning, however, and it sounded through in his voice. "You have to want this, too. Or it's just messed up, Sherlock." And yet, oh, there, that sudden sting of teeth, that was good, that was really bloody good, and John gasped as his head fell back and he ( ... )
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