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The Amazing John Watson	By : moonshape Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2302 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Amazing John Watson
- 1
Title: The Amazing John Watson

Author: Foxy Badger

Fandom: BBC Sherlock

Pairing: Sherlock/John

Genre: slash (M/M), romance

Rating: R/NC-17

Word count: 2193

Summary: Naive and for the first time in love, Sherlock tries to tell John he will never leave him and finds a way to apologize to John after leaving him in the lab. (Post-'Hounds', Pre-Reichenbach fluff meant to make you weep)

Disclaimer: Story is mine. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson belong to Sir Conan Doyle. BBC Sherlock to the BBC. No profit made. Just for fun.

‘John, John, John,’ Sherlock whispers as he steps onto the bed, hovering over John who lies wrapped up in the sheets, his back turned to his friend. ‘You’re not still cross with me, are you?’

‘No,’ he replies sheepishly, hovering in a state of weariness, close to falling asleep. ‘You drugged me, though.’

‘I told you it was an experiment,’ Sherlock sighs in frustration. He had explained to his friend half a dozen times on their way back to London what he had tried to achieve. But John didn’t want to hear anything about it. ‘And there wasn’t anything in the sugar – I made you believe you were in danger.’

‘You don’t experiment on people without their permission. Not even if they’re your friend.’

‘You’re the only one I can rely on.'

‘Hm,’ John huffed and turned his head, burying his head deeper into his pillow.

‘You know I’d never hurt you,’ Sherlock speaks softly as he drags his fingertips past John’s jaw line.

‘’M not always sure about that,’ John mutters wearily and Sherlock pulls his hand away from his lover’s face at once. He sits by John in silence, his eyes racing over John’s ‘pretending-to-be-asleep’ face.

‘I have apologised,’ Sherlock recites, referring to what he had remonstrated to his friend earlier that day.

‘I know, I know,’ John mumbles, suddenly sounding more awake than he had sounded seconds earlier but when Sherlock looks down at his partner, he sees he still has his eyes closed. ‘It’s okay – I’m not cross with you. I was – but I’m not anymore.’

Sherlock feels strangely relieved at these words and he smirks at himself.

‘And stop feeling content with yourself,’ John responds to Sherlock’s silence.

‘I’m not –

‘You’re smiling.’

‘You’re not even looking at me.’

‘I can hear it.’

‘No you can’t. You can’t hear a person smile, John.’

‘I can – with you.’

Sherlock sighs and grows annoyed with his friend, turning his face away to stare at his bedroom door. His jaw tightens in frustration as for a moment as he ponders about sleeping in the sitting room, when he feels a hand on his knee. He turns his head and looks down at John again, who has now finally opened his eyes and is looking up at him.

‘I’m joking,’ he utters in a soft voice, but Sherlock frowns.

There is a short silence before Sherlock speaks again:

‘Can you really hear me smile?’

‘Of course not,’ John says as he shifts in the bed, pushing himself up to lean against the headrest of the bed. The duvet slides off his bare chest. ‘I just – know when you do. The moment just asked for it.’

Sherlock averts his eyes for a moment, pondering about what was just said to him.

‘Am I that predictable?’ he asks as he looks back at his friend.

‘In some cases you are,’ John admits with a nod, scratching his old war wound on his shoulder. ‘But most of the time, you are a complete mystery to me.’

Sherlock’s lip curled again, feeling content with himself.

‘Like now,’ John points at his face, wiping the smile off Sherlock’s face at once. ‘I knew that would make you smile.’

‘No you didn’t.’

‘Yes,’ John says as he leans forward towards Sherlock, their faces close. ‘I did.’

John is about to press his lips against Sherlock’s when Sherlock turns his face away slightly, not granting his friend the celebration of his victory regarding this discussion.

‘Sherlock,’ John speaks clearly. ‘I’m not angry with you— not anymore. I was. But I’m not now.’

‘You know I would never hurt you,’ Sherlock says as he turns to face John again, looking down into the shorter man’s eyes. ‘Never, John. Ever.’

John pulls his knees up and rests his elbows on them. ‘Don’t make promises you won’t keep.’

‘No John,’ Sherlock says as he moves closer, pulling his other leg onto the bed as well and sitting on his knees between John’s feet. His takes his friend’s face between his hands and repeats: ‘Never. I will never part from you.’

John smiles, his lips thin lines as if he wants to believe him but he can’t.

‘One day you will meet the wrong person, Sherlock,’ John explains his concern. ‘One day it will be Moriarty – or someone else. Or maybe you’ll meet a woman--,’ Sherlock pulls his face back in confusion. ‘She maybe, or someone else. Another bloke,’ he continues as Sherlock’s face still reads utter confusion. John pauses for a moment, and proceeds to explain: ‘You can’t say people will always stay together – because it never happens.’

Sherlock studies his friend’s face and doesn’t want to believe what he is saying. But on the subject of dating, John is more experienced than he is. He’s had a handful the past two years and Sherlock never had anyone his entire life. John was his first and he wanted him to be his last. But did that really never happen?

‘I don’t want anyone else,’ he hints, still confused as to why John thinks they will never stay together. ‘Unless you –

‘Sherlock,’ John whispers and brings his hand up to his face, placing his index finger on his bottom lip. ‘I have never been happier with anyone else,’ his thumb runs over Sherlock’s lip and his hand comes to rest on his jaw. ‘I don’t want anyone else, either,’ he assured him. ‘But – you can’t say you will always love someone, or stay with them – you don’t know what the future will bring, nor will you know who you will meet.’

Sherlock ponders for a moment about John’s words and felt annoyed when he realised he was right. But he smiled to hide his disappointment: ‘Well – until that time, I’ll have to do with you.’

John chuckles and drops his gaze for a moment, obviously flattered with what he had just said. He looks up again, a smile still spreading his lips.

‘That’s good to know,’ he says and nods once while his hand has reached the back of Sherlock’s head. But it is Sherlock who pulls John’s face to his and presses their lips against each other’s. John uses his carefully placed hand to pull him down as he lays back; his knees still bent as Sherlock’s weight presses down on his body.

John is already lacking his pyjama shirt so Sherlock is the first to lose a piece of clothing. John forces him to lift his arms up and pulls his shirt over his head, his hands flying over to Sherlock’s back as soon as it was exposed.

The next that comes off is Sherlock’s trousers and John fumbles with his belt and fly and pushes them down his friend’s slim waist. Sherlock kicks them away and mounts John, straddling him between his legs and taking his face between his hands again as they kiss. They are both equally exposed now. After they have started to share the bedroom, John has never bothered with wearing pyjamas; apart from Mrs Hudson, he has no one to hide from and he could now easily sit at the breakfast table only wearing his pants and Sherlock’s dressing gown without disturbing anyone. Sherlock doesn’t bother with any formality and sleeps naked and, like John, only dressed for breakfast to prevent Mrs Hudson from having a heart attack.

They have done this three times before and even though it was new to Sherlock, he knew now what to do. During their first time he had hesitated and so had John. Even though John had been with other people before, they had always been women. It was new for him too. But until now it had always been John who had told him what to do; where to touch him and what to do. Sherlock knew everything about the human body but not the practical things that were required when two men had sex. How they needed lubricant and who would take who. John knew this. He had done his research well. He knew exactly where to put his fingers before entering Sherlock to prepare him for the actual thing. Sherlock would never have thought about that.

John’s hand reaches sideways towards the nightstand and fumbles with the drawer. Sherlock reaches out as well and pulls it open while John reaches inside to take the bottle of lubricant out. But before he can take the cap off Sherlock takes hold of his wrist, pinning his arm down beside his pillow.

‘Not yet,’ he breathes as he ends their kiss and places his lips on John’s sternum. John let the bottle roll from his hand and Sherlock releases him at once, using his free hands to slide them down John’s chest and waist. He pulls the man’s pants off, revealing his hardened cock. Sherlock caresses it with his hand for a few minutes, slowly moving up and down and squeezing John’s cock. He will show him he loved him. He would make John want to stay with him forever. Whether he believed him or not.

John starts to tug at Sherlock’s pants and gives a complaining moan. Sherlock releases John’s cock and sits back to rid himself of his pants before crawling back on top of him. John has found the lubricant again and pops the cap off. He squeezes the bottle and lets a clot of lubricant fill his palm. He carelessly throws the bottle away and closes his hand to spread the gel out over his entire hand and fingers. He reaches between Sherlock’s legs and sits up, his other arm wrapped around Sherlock’s back as he presses his fingers into his lover’s arse, kissing his chest as if to comfort him. It isn’t pleasant at first, but Sherlock keeps still, holding John’s face again to kiss him. He gasps unexpectedly as John’s fingers brush against his prostate.

He takes John’s wrist and forces him to let his fingers slip out of him. He brings his friend’s hand over to his own cock and forces him stroke himself as Sherlock’s hand wraps around his. Not only does he force him to please himself, he needs the rest of the lubricant after all.

He lets go of John’s hand and holds his face again, shifting closer. Their cocks touch and he watches how John closes his eyes, his lips pressed tightly shut as he moans. Sherlock smirks and pushes him down, taking John’s cock in his hand and guiding him inside him. He tenses at first but doesn’t make a sound as he forces to relax himself as he takes John into him. He gently moves his hips, granting his body a moment to adapt to John’s manhood.

John sets his hands down on Sherlock’s thighs as he starts to move. He moves slowly, dragging John’s cock past the walls of his arse, clenching his muscles together to give him maximum stimulation. He doesn’t take John too deep for his mind is on John only, but he can’t help but occasionally taking him deeper so John’s penis would bump into his prostate. But Sherlock doesn’t need much stimulation. He is inexperienced and if he puts his mind to it, he could climax right here and right now. But he stays calm and tries to breathe through his nose for as long as possible.

But as soon as John closes his hand around his cock he can’t hold back anymore. He places a hand next to John’s shoulder, finding support to prevent crushing John under his weight. John starts to stroke him and looks at him, his eyes hungry and pleading.

And he starts to move faster, his hips the most flexible way Sherlock Holmes would ever use them. He doesn’t last a minute with this pace and he climaxes, his seed dripping down onto John’s stomach and over his hand. His joints lock and his muscles tighten over his entire body as he pants, sweat dripping down his forehead. He feels exhausted and spent but he continues to rock his hips until John moans loudly and Sherlock feels his cock pulse inside him, warmth splashing his insides.

He looks down at John and places his hands on his neck again, kissing him hungrily.

‘Never,’ he breathes between kisses and John chuckles again. ‘There is only you— Only John Watson.’

‘John Watson?’ John chuckles and he sounds as if Sherlock is saying something absurd.

‘My John Watson,’ Sherlock corrects himself.

‘You called me amazing earlier today,’ John reminds him as he runs his fingers past Sherlock’s cheekbones.

‘My amazing John Watson,’ Sherlock finally adds and forces his tongue inside his lover’s mouth to quiet him.

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The Amazing John Watson