Sometimes Sex Alarms Me (2/3)
Summary: Occasionally Sherlock joins Greg and John in bed. Sometimes it doesn’t end very well.
Notes: Chapter 1 over here.
Sherlock leaned heavily against the bathroom door, staring at the opposite wall. The damned adrenaline was ebbing away and his knees were starting to feel very weak. He knew John was probably still in the sitting room waiting to hear him step into the shower, but Sherlock couldn’t face getting undressed again quite yet. He still pushed away from the door and turned on the shower to let John - and subsequently Greg - know that he was all right. Then he sat down on the toilet and once again hid his face in his hands.
He sobbed, felling utterly ridiculous for his reaction but he knew he would feel better afterwards if he just let his body react the way it needed to and go through the motions of stress and, well, shock. Being able to break down in private eased the embarrassment slightly, but not completely.
The shower slowly turned the bathroom into a steambath, warming Sherlock from the outside-in and making it easier to breathe calmly. When he stood up he looked at the misty mirror, pleased to only see himself as a blur and not be forced to meet his red eyes. He dropped the dressing gown on the floor and stepped into the shower. The warm water was soothing and he took a moment to just stand there before he started to carefully clean himself. He hadn’t figured out what he tried to wash away - partly due to the fact that he didn’t dare exploring that train of thought - but he compulsively felt like he had to.
When he turned off the shower he had lost all sense of time. He felt disturbingly empty and still embarrassed, but calm. He wrapped himself in the dressing gown again and went to bed without taking it off. At first his bed was cold and he curled up under the covers, covering his head, to keep the warmth from the shower. The cold, well-straightened sheets were a perfect contrast to the warm, tangled mess he had left upstairs, increasing his sense of security. His bed was for sleeping and only sleeping.
And only for him.
He lay awake, completely hidden under the covers, for a long time, thinking about if the other two had gone to sleep yet and what would come about tomorrow.
-x-
Chapter 3
Notes: Chapter 1 over here.
Sherlock leaned heavily against the bathroom door, staring at the opposite wall. The damned adrenaline was ebbing away and his knees were starting to feel very weak. He knew John was probably still in the sitting room waiting to hear him step into the shower, but Sherlock couldn’t face getting undressed again quite yet. He still pushed away from the door and turned on the shower to let John - and subsequently Greg - know that he was all right. Then he sat down on the toilet and once again hid his face in his hands.
He sobbed, felling utterly ridiculous for his reaction but he knew he would feel better afterwards if he just let his body react the way it needed to and go through the motions of stress and, well, shock. Being able to break down in private eased the embarrassment slightly, but not completely.
The shower slowly turned the bathroom into a steambath, warming Sherlock from the outside-in and making it easier to breathe calmly. When he stood up he looked at the misty mirror, pleased to only see himself as a blur and not be forced to meet his red eyes. He dropped the dressing gown on the floor and stepped into the shower. The warm water was soothing and he took a moment to just stand there before he started to carefully clean himself. He hadn’t figured out what he tried to wash away - partly due to the fact that he didn’t dare exploring that train of thought - but he compulsively felt like he had to.
When he turned off the shower he had lost all sense of time. He felt disturbingly empty and still embarrassed, but calm. He wrapped himself in the dressing gown again and went to bed without taking it off. At first his bed was cold and he curled up under the covers, covering his head, to keep the warmth from the shower. The cold, well-straightened sheets were a perfect contrast to the warm, tangled mess he had left upstairs, increasing his sense of security. His bed was for sleeping and only sleeping.
And only for him.
He lay awake, completely hidden under the covers, for a long time, thinking about if the other two had gone to sleep yet and what would come about tomorrow.
-x-
Chapter 3