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Sherlock and John and Rosie (and Mrs. Hudson too)	By : GizmoTrinket Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 4625 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock in any iteration, BBC or otherwise. I make no money from this work in any way, shape or form

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
- 8
A/N: Ok guys, going to do alternating POV here because it gets a little complicated. Warnings for chapter: transphobia and trans hate crimes. This chapter could be triggering so if you prefer not to read please leave a comment and I'll respond with a summary that (hopefully) won't be upsetting.
Chapter 7: Mycroft's Fault
----Sherlock's POV----
Sherlock thought it was impossible. Mary was absolutely pregnant there was no doubt about that. And Sherrinford died twenty years ago. So, how? "Obvious." The consulting detective muttered. Clearly Mycroft and Mummy had all decided to force Sherrinford to freeze eggs before undergoing the transition. Anger filled Sherlock in a way it hadn't since his teens now that he completely understood what happened to his brother. 'It would have been Mycroft's idea. Mycroft was supposed to protect him.' Sherlock thought. Of course, the clinic made sense now. The brunette thought it was happenstance; that Sherrinford was walking from someplace else and passing by the clinic.
"Sherlock?"
'It was all Mycroft's fault!' Sherlock realized.
"Sherlock!" John's hands were shaking as the stroked him, trying to get him to exit his mind palace.
"Don't touch me!" Sherlock snapped. The sensations were warring, John touching him was good but the scars still hurt sometimes and he was anxious so no matter how gentle every caress felt like sandpaper. The hands touching him retreated and he calmed slightly.
"Sorry."
Sherlock ignored his lover. John's guilt was unwarranted and therefore irrelevant. Knowing the blond would only get more worked up the longer the consulting detective was unresponsive Sherlock decided he needed to do his thinking elsewhere. He picked up his phone, wrapped a sheet around his body (he knew John would want the dressing gown to get tea) and went to change. He wasn't sure what he was going to do to his brother when his suspicions were confirmed but maybe it was a good thing his gun was gone.
----John's POV----
"Mycroft? He left! He's gone. He just changed and walked out the door without a word!" John could feel himself trembling. He was terrified this time Sherlock wouldn't come back. That Sherlock was heading to one of his boltholes and John would find him shooting up on another dirty mattress. Or he'd get the call that Sherlock overdosed again and he wouldn't be there to help. That they'd be too late. That their first time would be their last time. "Tell me you know where he is!"
"Relax, doctor. We have eyes on him and we know where he's going."
"Well?!" John demanded.
Rosie was crying but John ignored her. His chest hurt, Sherlock would know what the cry meant but John didn't. He'd have to check her diaper, tempt her with a bottle she didn't want before he guessed the right formula. Or maybe she just wanted her father. Sherlock was always more of a parent than John was. The two had bonded in a way John had avoided out of fear.
"What happened, exactly?"
"What the fuck do you care?! Just tell me where he's going so I can make sure he's ok!"
"It would be most helpful if you could tell me-"
"Either you don't know where he's gone to and you're lying or you're not going to tell me." John seethed. "Either way I'm not telling you a thing. You should have said something so I didn't make this an issue!"
"Ah, I was worried it was about Sherrinford."
"What the fuck happened to him, Mycroft?"
"Her." Mycroft corrected.
Mrs. Hudson entered the flat again, carrying her baby monitor. "John! Your daughter." She admonished.
"Not now, Mrs. Hudson."
"She suffered from an affliction called gender identity disorder. We were working on curing her-"
"It's gender dysphoria now you- Wait, what do you mean my curing?"
Mycroft paused, clearly uncomfortable. "At the time it was thought to be better to dissuade a person than indulge-"
"Oh my god!" A multitude of horrors flashed before John's eyes.
"Yes, well." Mycroft cleared his throat. "When that didn't work we agreed to sex-reassignment surgery but we had some stipulations-"
"You're a monster."
"Please, John. Don't be dramatic."
"So was Sherlock the only one who was supportive?"
"Our Father was also too stupid to-"
"Right." John didn't think he could listen to any more of this. As it was he thought he might vomit. "Murder or suicide?"
"I was supposed to accompany her-"
"Him."
"-back from the clinic but I was called away. She-"
"He."
Mycroft huffed in irritation. "-was cornered by some street thugs and beaten to death. Among other things."
"Jesus Christ!"
"Yes, well. Her-"
"His."
"She hadn't had the surgery yet, John."
"Doesn't matter."
"In any case, the killers were never found. I never understood it. She was brilliant, beautiful and loving. Why would she want to make her life so difficult? In the end it got her killed."
John was positive he would have punched Mycroft right then if they'd been in the same room. In a flash of understanding John knew Sherlock was on his way to do just that. Or maybe more than that. "Oh, god. He's going to kill you."
"Don't be ridiculous, John. Sherlock is angry now but by the time he gets here he will have calmed down enough to listen to reason."
John disconnected the call and ran to save the only brother Sherlock had left (even though he wasn't sure the man really deserved it). Sherlock would go to jail and Rosie needed her father.
----Sherlock POV----
Sherlock was shaking with the intensity of his emotions. He'd loved his oldest brother and Sherrinford was not only dead but murdered when the consulting detective was sixteen. By the time his family told him the evidence was long gone and there was no hope of bringing the monsters to justice. Sherlock was well aware people liked to prey on those who were different but this was not another locker room beating.
All Mycroft, then twenty four, would say was to repeat what he said when Sherlock learned Redbeard wasn't sent to a farm. "All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage." The recently overdosed teenager had no idea it was all his remaining brother's fault.
Until now.
This time Sherlock was going to do something more productive than trying to escape through drugs and nearly killing himself. Murder was a much better option and no one would catch him because this time there wouldn't be any witnesses.
----John's POV----
John ran into the Diogenes club blowing past Wilder without a word. He checked the lobby then stormed to Mycroft's office. The blond threw the door open with a thud and ran headlong into Donovan.
"Watch it!"
"Sorry." John apologized reflexively. "Where is he?"
She drew herself up. "He left some time ago with Doctor Hooper. I'm to monitor the situation with the rest of the team. You're to join us."
John tilted his head. "Nope."
She rolled her eyes with a huff. "You're more of a pain then he is aren't you? Fine. Once I figure out exactly where he went I'll call you. He was headed to My's house."
The blond doctor was taken aback. "My?" He was wondering when the world became crazy. First Molly now Sally.
She blushed slightly. "Mr. Holmes's house."
"Right." There was an awkward pause while John tried to figure out what was going on. "So, you two are dating?"
"Of course not." She snapped. "I'm his new PA."
"I'm sure Greg loved that." The blond understood why he had missed calls from the Lestrade now. He'd ignored them in favour of his own drama.
"That's not my problem. And you're to call me Aditi from now on."
John remembered he had better things to do. "Was Mycroft at his house when I called?"
"No." She responded. "He was here."
The doctor licked his lips in irritation. He thought it through logically, trying to think like his flatmate. 'Sherlock must have known Mycroft was here therefore he needed to draw his brother out. But he must have known his rat of a brother wouldn't go anywhere alone lest Sherlock break his arm. Mycroft brought a doctor with him so he must think Sherlock's in danger of relapsing but doesn't want anyone to know. Therefore Sherlock must have a bolt hole near Mycroft's house.' John recalled searching all over for the consulting detective when he ran off with a bullet hole in his chest. In a flash the short man suddenly remembered that Sherlock would never let John help him change during the months away from Mary. John thought the brunette had suddenly gotten shy even though he'd never had a problem strutting around the flat in naught but a sheet before. Now John knew his best friend was hiding his scars. The blond swallowed thickly and shook his head to clear the disturbing thought. The closest place he knew of was the one where Mary revealed herself. With a curt nod to Sally- no, Aditi now, he took his leave.
----Sherlock's POV----
"Get out."
"The fuck you think you're- Oh!" Billy gasped in recognition. "Sorry Shezza. Didn't recognize you. Ain't seen you 'round much."
"I've better things to do than get high." Sherlock said honestly. 'Like revenge.' He added mentally.
"Yeah?"
"Who's injured?" The consulting detective knew he would need someone to distract either Molly or John.
"This girl here's got a nasty infection."
"Fantastic." Sherlock grinned at his luck.
Some of the homeless glared at him.
"Have her wait outside. A doctor will be here soon." The tall brunette set about cleaning the place up so Mycroft wouldn't have any excuses for a counter argument.
----
Sherlock waited in the dark. It was taking longer than he expected for Mycroft to arrive. There was an unknown variable and the consulting detective hated it. Finally a car door slammed.
Sounded like John arrived.
The brunette listened to the homeless woman confront the doctor and him send her to the nearest surgery with some money in the cab he just exited.
"Sherlock?" John called out.
At first Sherlock was annoyed that his plan didn't work. Without thought the taller of the two men called back. He realized when John joined him he wasn't torn about the doctor's presence anymore. John should be with him, always. "Where's Rosie?"
"Uh..." John looked sheepish. "With Mrs. Hudson?"
"You're saying that like it's a question."
The door opened again and both men quieted.
----John's POV----
"Sherlock?"
John went to step out of the shadows but Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder. The blond looked at his partner and frowned. John wanted to take a swing at the minor government pain in the arse but allowed Sherlock first crack at him. Once again John watched from the shadows.
"You were supposed to protect him."
"Yes." Mycroft replied.
"You failed."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I was called away. There was an issue at work and I should have been back in time."
"So you decided to leave our venerable sibling alone to undergo an unnecessary procedure in a seedy part of town because you didn't want to be recognized. Were you ashamed to be seen with him?"
"Sherlock." The elder brother warned.
"Were you jealous because I liked him better? Were you upset because he didn't fit into your plan? Because you thought he was a freak? Because of the three of us our parents liked you least-"
"Enough!"
"You couldn't understand, could you? Having "everything" and being unhappy?" Without waiting for an answer he continued. "You were supposed to protect him Mycroft. That was the deal. But you failed. Like you have with me, over and over."
"Sherlock!"
"Because I'm different too, aren't I? I'm one of those freaks you detest so-"
"You're not like her."
"No, I'm perfectly happy with my gender. I just prefer the same gender sexually. I've seen how that frustrates you. You think I should be like you: able to pick from both but choosing the "right side.""
John frowned, he remembered Mycroft telling him to pick a side when they first met. He'd thought the megalomaniac was referring to him or Sherlock. Now he understood. He wondered how many times Sherlock had been told John had picked women because he'd hit on Anthea. Was that why Sherlock had said he was asexual? Because of internal (and external due to the reptile in front of him) homophobia?
"You killed him." Sherlock accused with no emotion in his voice.
"No. It was just an unfortunate-"
"No." Sherlock tilted his head and his voice took on an ethereal quality John had always found creepy. "It's too convenient. You see, I've always wondered why he was in that part of town. Why none of those responsible were ever caught. Why it took so long for emergency services to make it to such a violent incident outside a clinic. Why you just happened to be gone."
"What are you implying?"
"Obvious. You had him killed."
"I would never."
"You had motive, means and opportunity."
John was rooted to the spot. His breath left him in a whoosh and his insides froze.
"You're allowing sentiment to cloud your judgement."
Sherlock snarled and leapt at his brother. Mycroft was slow to react and his head knocked into the wall as the younger tackled him.
John couldn't move.
The brunette punched his brother over and over.
When Mycroft's head hit against the floor again and he coughed up blood John could finally move. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pulled him off the prone man.
Sherlock struggled weakly to attack his brother again without trying to fight his blogger. John held Sherlock as tears ran down the brunette's cheeks, the blond brushed the sweaty fringe from Sherlock's brow and held the lanky man as he turned and wept into John's shoulder.
"Shhh..." He soothed. He wanted to tell Sherlock it would all be ok. That everything would work out. That he was wrong, that Mycroft wasn't responsible for their brother's death. But he couldn't. In all likelihood Sherlock was right and Mycroft got rid of their sibling to help his career. "Shhh... I'm here. I've got you."
"Why, why, why..." Sherlock chanted in between sobs.
Mycroft groaned and John ignored him. The doctor was happy the other man hadn't fought back or tried to defend himself but John worried what that meant. He pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialled for a cab and an ambulance in that order.
----
Sherlock fell asleep in the taxi and John helped the exhausted man up the stairs. The shorter man didn't want the baby to wake her father before he'd had a chance to rest properly but he knew he'd never be able to take Sherlock safely up another set of stairs so he dropped Sherlock off in Rosie's room.
Before he could leave large hands gripped his jacket, pulling him into bed too. John was tired, both emotionally and physically. He'd been scared when Sherlock didn't want his touch. The blond thought the consulting detective hated him and their relationship was over before it began. Normally when the brunette was upset he chased John out of the flat though and it took Sherlock leaving for the doctor to understand.
John was observant, sometimes. He understood that Sherlock had moods where he couldn't stand anyone touching him. It happened when the consulting detective was under a lot of stress so the doctor didn't take it personally. John was one of the few people Sherlock let touch him in the first place. Right now the blond thought his lover was hovering on the edge of sleep so he just wrapped his arms around the other man. He wasn't sure if Sherlock would welcome soothing brushes right now or not. John figured if Sherlock wanted him there the brunette wouldn't mind being held. Each time Sherlock sniffled John gave him a comforting squeeze.
The door opened and John tensed.
"Sorry." Molly whispered. She'd come in to put Rosamund to bed for the night.
"What happened to Mrs. Hudson?" John whispered back.
"It's bridge night so she asked if I could watch her. I hadn't seen Rosie in ages so I agreed." Molly set the baby down in her cot. "What happened?"
"Mycroft killed my brother." Sherlock rasped.
John kissed the top of the brunette's curls and freed himself to get Sherlock a glass of water. He could hear the pair talking quietly behind him.
As the glass filled John blinked rapidly. "God." He whispered. 'Just when their relationship was starting to get better this had to happen.' John thought despondently. He waited until Molly left the room to move. She nodded a goodbye while wiping her eyes and John went to provide Sherlock with what little support he could.
----
---
----
----Lestrade's POV----
"I don't believe it." Molly said.
"I don't know Molls. It makes sense. Sherlock's never been able to solve this one. I'd always just assumed he was too close but..." Greg shrugged.
They poured over the file together each making arguments for or against before getting a board and diagramming every scrap of information they had.
After her sixth cup of coffee Molly won.
"It couldn't have been Mycroft. Too sloppy. But it wasn't thugs, too professional." Lestrade agreed. "But we'll never know what really happened, any new evidence was classified. We have this much only because Sherlock hid it here."
"There's only one person who knows what really happened."
"He'll never tell you anything." Greg said, wincing at the light coming in through the windows.
"He doesn't have to. He just has to agree with the accusation." Molly countered.
It took Lestrade longer to realize what she meant than it normally would have had he had any sleep. If Mycroft admitted to a murder he didn't commit then he felt guilty but hadn't planned it. "You're so smart sometimes it's scary."
Molly blushed, recognizing the words for the compliment they were meant to be.
"I'm sorry. I've been an ass." Greg said. "I know you're just friends and I have no right to be jealous. And Sally left on her own. I can't blame you for that." After a short pause he added, "Can't blame her either, really." He was thinking about the Waters gang bust when he left because Sherlock asked for help and Donovan didn't get any credit for all the hours they worked. Greg got some purely from his position but Sally's name was never mentioned.
"Thank you." The doctor said, not waving the apology off with an excuse or dismissing her feelings like she would have in the past.
Greg found her new self confidence incredibly sexy. "Want to get some breakfast before you confront him?"
"No." Molly took out her phone and started texting. After a moment she looked up. "We could get dinner later, though. If you want." She brushed her hair behind her ear.
"Sounds good."
"I'll text you." The doctor said before leaving, her face buried in her phone.
"Morning boss. What's all this?"
Greg looked at the clock and groaned. He wondered if he'd be awake for dinner.
----Mycroft's POV----
"Did you really kill him? Your brother?" Molly asked, a dark shadow across her features.
Mycroft thought about his response before nodding. He hadn't called the hit but he had left after getting the call that his family had been targeted. Instead of trusting those in the governments employ to take care of it and protect them he left his sister- brother, exposed so he could read the note himself and meet the threat head on. No, Mycroft didn't order the murder but he was responsible for it nonetheless. He wanted to step down afterwards. The risks didn't outweigh the rewards. But before he could Sherlock went missing and the civil servant feared the worst. He used every resource available to track down the teen and knew that was what saved his younger brother's life.
In order to fight the rumours that he couldn't be impartial he used the excuse that Sherlock could be used against them and was a national security risk. Mycroft promised to make the boy an agent as soon as he was old enough. Many on the board had seen the teen's observational skills first hand and agreed that Sherlock was better on their side. Several stints in rehab delayed the inevitable. By the time Sherlock was officially MI5 the rumours were quashed by Mycroft's cold response to the incident.
The older of the two remaining brothers had to repeat his words to Sherlock over and over until he could pretend to believe them. 'All lives end.' Some just sooner than others. 'All hearts are broken.' He'd meant it about his ex-boyfriend the first time. They'd just had a messy breakup and Mycroft understood that sentiment had clouded his judgement of the relationship and that's why the end had been such a surprise.
Decades later he'd still use his sibling's death as a reminder that he couldn't care about anyone, family or no. "You know what happened to the other one." Mycroft had caught those responsible and they'd met a terrible fate. Of course, no one knew that but him and a fresh faced Anthea. He had a reputation as a man of ice and it protected those around him as much as it pained him to maintain.
Molly gasped and blinked away tears.
Mycroft watched her leave without a trace of emotion on his battered face.
'Caring is not an advantage.' He reminded himself.

End A/N: I was concerned about adding a trans character to this story but I thought the benefits of representation, especially representation during the 1980-90s period which is not often spoken about (I find the argument that trans people are just a recent trend upsetting) was worth it. I can't find any numbers specifically for the UK about trans hate crimes today let alone from the 90s but they weren't (and still aren't) uncommon in the US.
I'd love to know your feelings on this chapter good or bad. Please leave me a comment with your thoughts, anything I could improve on or things you'd like to see in the future. Or if I completely fucked something up. Those comments are very important. Thank you in advance.
Bonus! Because this was a short depressing chapter I present: the sex scene from Sherlock's POV
++++
Sherlock was thrown onto John's bed.
Wait, Sherlock thought, John had him on the bed. John was rubbing him through his trousers and he was responding.
John wanted to have sex!
The brunette was amazed. John had said he loved Sherlock, over and over but Sherlock didn't really believe him. The doctor had seen the scars, after all, and the reason John liked Sherlock was because he was attractive. Sherlock felt hideous now and yet John slid his leg between Sherlock's and encouraged each of Sherlock's thrusts. The brunette started to inch up the bed, panting whenever his doctor allowed him a breath between kisses.
John followed, kissing less enthusiastically and more tenderly. It seemed he'd had a trying day. "God, I love you." The blond said.
The consulting detective knew then that John wanted him on a long term basis and felt his heart radiate joy. "I love you too, John." Sherlock felt his eyes water and noticed John's were moister than normal.
The shorter of the two took his time, caressing and pecking kisses into Sherlock's skin as he carefully undressed the brunette.
Maybe, Sherlock thought, maybe if he was lucky this time John would stay. John would marry him. They'd be together forever, just as they were meant to be (nearly a decade late). "John." He whispered.
John started undoing the buttons down the front of Sherlock's shirt.
Terrified John would stop again Sherlock pulled his best friend into another kiss, wrapping his tongue around John's. Filled with a need to keep John with him Sherlock flipped them so he was on top. John slid his hands inside Sherlock's shirt and read the scars though his fingers. Burn, whip, pipe, broken rib, burn, knife... The list went on and on. John didn't shy away though and his continual touches were enough to pull Sherlock from the memories.
The blond started pulling off Sherlock's shirt and the taller man helped his blogger undress him. After a bit Sherlock decided John was wearing far too much clothing and started removing it. They both sat in tented pants staring into each other's eyes. Those eyes started to roam and John licked his lips.
Sherlock was grabbed a condom from the side table, carefully keeping his back out of sight from the doctor. Some jangling interrupted.
Gladstone panted happily, staring at the pair.
"Gladstone, out."
"Gladstone?" John asked, apparently he was out when Sherlock chose the name and told him.
"Yes, John we have a new pet."
The blond shrugged and didn't fight about the puppy's new name.
"Gladstone, out!" Sherlock demanded pointing because the dog didn't know the command yet.
The dog shot his master a glare but followed the order.
Sherlock shut the door after him to prevent a repeat performance from the attention starved pet. He froze, realizing he'd put his back to his doctor and turned, scared he'd see an expression of horror on John's face.
But wonderful, brilliant John was just waiting, he extended his arms welcomingly and Sherlock relaxed. John didn't think he was ugly, John still wanted him.
The brunette wrapped his arms around his flatmate turned lover and decided the hug was far too platonic. He started licking John's neck, seeking all the places the blond liked. The love bites Sherlock had left earlier had faded and even though the consulting detective knew the doctor had been teased couldn't resist putting them back. 'Mine, mine, mine.'
John could become over stimulated quickly because John was hard to mark.
Luckily Sherlock was up to the task. He made sure the blond was never overwhelmed or hurt. While his mouth was engaged Sherlock let his hands roam, tracing scars, moles, muscles and bones. John had lost weight, he was happy and working out properly again even though their diet left much to be desired. Deciding John was far too coherent Sherlock allowed his hand to travel south.
John arched and swore.
The brunette smirked and reached for the condom. He'd dreamt about this, he'd fantasised about this, he'd wanked to the mere idea of this. Sherlock took his time, cursing the thin layer of latex for preventing the taste. Starting with licks Sherlock tested every sensitive spot he'd found with his hand.
"Oh, oh, OH!"
The brunette was loving this. He found that if he tightened his hand around the base it would prevent John's orgasm; that the blond's pupils would dilate if their eyes met; that the shorter man's eyelashes would flutter if Sherlock hollowed his checks and sucked hard.
"Fuck! God, Sher-ah-lock!" John rested his hand on Sherlock's head but didn't push down though he obviously wanted to.
Sherlock was slightly disappointed but decided it was better if their first time wasn't rough.
The consulting detective knew John was getting annoyed at Sherlock's frustration but the brunette couldn't help it. He wanted to take all of John in his mouth without choking but couldn't! No matter the angle, no matter how much he relaxed John was just too big. After a moment of particularly trying moves Sherlock pulled off. He panted and massaged his jaw.
John apologized.
Sherlock was appalled, "For what?" It was him that was the problem!
"I know I'm a little-"
Even though John didn't like it when Sherlock tried to be funny he couldn't help it, "Little isn't the correct work here, John."
"Shut up you arse!"
The brunette couldn't help but preen. John always used sexual terms to insult him. It was quite flattering. "I don't know;" He bit his lip, "I wasn't expecting the girth."
"Did you deduce my cock and get it wrong?" John sounded intrigued.
"I'm never wrong, John." Sherlock corrected. "I just miss things sometimes." He admitted.
John laughed.
Sherlock nearly sighed in happiness. He could listen to John laugh until the day he died and it would be enough.
"I love you, you arrogant prick." The blond sat up and started to move off the bed.
Panicking Sherlock tried to stop him. John wasn't going to stay! What had he done wrong? He blinked several times. John was going to leave and they might never get to this point again! That couldn't happen!
"Hey," John brushed his hand up and down Sherlock's arm soothingly. "just going to clean up a little. I wasn't expecting this."
The taller of the two allowed him to leave the bed knowing that his blogger was probably wasting time. Sherlock wanted this to be special. After Mycroft's comment and John's expression Sherlock decided he was far too old to be a virgin anymore so he'd gone out and fixed that. But there were still ways he only wanted and trusted John to touch him.
The blond put on his dressing gown and left.
Sherlock waited a moment to make sure John wasn't going to turn around then lubed up his fingers. John was large, nearly too big but he had a larger dildo he could take if he relaxed and prepared enough. The consulting detective knew the blond would be gone long enough for him to do this properly.
He angled his body so John would have a good view when he came back. Sherlock also pulled a pillow over with his clean hand and rested his head on it, that way John could see his face. He was fairly certain John had never had anal sex before and this would be special for him too. Since the brunette wasn't on his side it was a little difficult to gain entrance. He put his leg up on the baseboard and rested his shin against the bed post. John would like that too. It was a little easier then and Sherlock eased one finger in.
"Aaahhhh..." He moaned. This felt so good! He could never hit his prostate like this but it didn't matter, imagining John's prick breeching his hole in a few minutes was more than enough stimulation. Soon he had another finger in. Sherlock's hands weren't small and he took his time, scissoring and stretching. He was hoping he could get three by the time John came back.
"Oh!" John quietly gasped at Sherlock's display.
Blushing and without looking at his flatmate Sherlock removed his fingers and added more lube. One could never have too much lube and he really didn't want to injure himself now of all times. Feeling adequately prepared he called out for his John. "You just going to- ah!" he gasped, talking having an interesting effect on his arsehole, "-just stand there or are- Oh!" He managed to accidently brush his prostate somehow.
The blond rushed over, rolling on a new condom quickly.
They agreed face to face would be best. Sherlock knew this would put extra pressure on him but he couldn't bear to have sex with John and not see him. Plus, the scars. The brunette slid up the bed and opened his legs invitingly.
"You have to tell me if I hurt you."
Sherlock agreed dismissively. He'd have sex with John even if he wanted to burn him at this point.
John paused and the consulting detective knew it was nerves; the blond didn't want to hurt him. It was terribly sweet.
"Please!" He begged, he couldn't take it if John changed his mind.
John apologised and stroked the writhing man beneath him.
"John?" Sherlock was terrified the doctor was going to put a stop to this. That he'd changed his mind. That he didn't want the brunette after all.
"Sorry. I've never..." John paused, waiting for Sherlock to figure it out. But Sherlock had no idea what John would say next. "...done this before."
Sherlock sagged in relief.
"I mean I've never topped. With a man."
He'd been with other men? Who? When? Not Sholto...
"Or, well, had anal sex with a woman. Before."
Deciding being demanding would be the best option Sherlock growled at the doctor to get on with it. They were both getting soft and that was unacceptable!
John apologised again and lined up.
Sherlock exhaled and tried to relax.
The blond pushed the tip of his penis in.
It was wonderful. But John stopped. It was unacceptable! "MOVE!" Sherlock ordered.
"Demanding." John chastised but obeyed.
There was a drag and a pinch and Sherlock couldn't help but wince.
John noticed and instead of awkwardly staring while he paused the brilliant man petted Sherlock's curls.
The brunette loved having his scalp scratched and leaned into the sensation, encouraging the shorter man. It was too much, Sherlock was overwhelmed. He tilted his hips and brought John down for a kiss.
John was gentle and loving. "Ok?" He asked once Sherlock relaxed. When Sherlock nodded John added more lubricant and worked in, out, in, out, in, out until he was worked all the way in.
"Oh." 'He will stay.' Sherlock realized. 'He'll stay as long as you try.'
"Sherlock?"
He made an excuse, if John knew that Sherlock doubted him it'd probably be a bit not good. He admitted his inexperience (it was only fair since John shared first; plus it was nice that they were each other's firsts in a way) and watched as John's pupils dilated.
"Really?" John licked his lips.
Deciding John needed to move now the brunette squeezed John's hips.
In, out, push, glide.
It was heavenly. Sherlock canted his hips and John started brushing his prostate. Wanting, no, needing more Sherlock adjusted the angle and nearly screamed.
John swore and started moving faster.
Sherlock knew he was talking but he had no idea what he was saying. He arched his back to change the angle and add friction to his penis.
Close, so close...
He saw stars, he opened his mouth to scream but it was too much and nothing came out for a moment. When his lungs unlocked the scream came, "aaaAHHHHHHHaah!"
John bit Sherlock's shoulder when he came, trying unsuccessfully to be quiet. They held each other for a moment.
"Out." The stretch was hurting him now and he was tired.
John obeyed albeit slowly.
Lube leaked out and when Sherlock sat up it was worse. He needed to clean up. He wiggled his hips, knowing John's eyes would be focused on his arse as he left the bed. He took John's dressing gown and went to the loo.
Feeling the need to take care of his lover Sherlock returned with a clean wet flannel. As John wiped himself clean Sherlock curled around him uncaring if anyone would tease him for cuddling. This was John.
"You ok?" The doctor asked.
"Mmm." The brunette responded. John was still tense so he added, "Fine. I'll be a little sore tomorrow. Worth it."
So sleepy. So happy.
Sherlock nuzzled his lover and pecked a kiss to his neck before succumbing to his drowsiness.
++++
- 6
- 7
- 8
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Sherlock and John and Rosie (and Mrs. Hudson too)