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Two Simple Sentences	By : IDontKnowWhatImDoing Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 3980 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any associated characters, and do not profit from this work.

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Raspberries.
Sherlock smelled like raspberries.
It was an odd thought to have when wrapping his lips around his new lover's cock for the first time but it was the first thought to pop into John's head.
Sherlock smelled like raspberries, raspberry body wash to be exact.
It wasn't a thought that lasted long, it certainly wasn't an important thought at the time but it was an odd thought which John would be reminded of many months later after a particular interesting dinner which would lead to an even more interesting breakfast.
But getting back to more important thoughts, such as that aforementioned cock and the lovely owner of said cock, who it would seem hadn't anticipated John's reaction to that simple yet deeply meaningful sentence.
At the feeling of John's lips enveloping him, Sherlock threw his head back, smacking it right against the shower wall and nearly tore the shower curtain off its rings. And having too many other important thoughts of his own, Sherlock didn't seem to notice nor care. Tightening his grip on the curtain and ignoring the pain, he cried out, "Oh my god...John."
...
Crying it out loud enough to draw the attention of the maître d', who was escorting that young couple to the table next to them, the couple themselves and quite a number of other guests.
The maître d' stared at Sherlock laid out in his chair stroking himself, for all of two second. He then swiveled on his feet and walked away without a word, leaving the couple to decide on their own if they wanted to take the empty table next to man who was very clearly masturbating and savoring every second of it. And also the man seated with him, who was savoring every second of Sherlock.
And savoring he was. John licked at his lips and slid a hand down to his own erection, rubbing himself over his jeans.
…
And at the sound of that needy moan, all thoughts of raspberries vanished, all thoughts of everything vanished except the need to make Sherlock make more of those wonderful sounds. Swirling his tongue around the head of Sherlock's cock did just that.
…
"Ah…god..oh..god"
Sherlock's body shuddering at the imagined feel of John's tongue, "Oh oh...John..."
The younger couple must have decided they were no longer hungry, turning around to follow the maître d' in his hasty retreat. And at this point John didn't give one shit if they'd decided to sit next to them and enjoy the show right along with the elderly woman who was still mumbling her disgust but had yet to look away.
Nothing short of the end of the world could stop them, so completely immersed in this wicked fun.
...
On his knees, kneeling before his partner, hot water still rained down on him, John ran his tongue over every inch of Sherlock's cock. Tasting, exploring, feeling all of him. As his tongue explored, he felt fingers lightly grip his wet hair. Sherlock's hips canted forward and he was keening more of those beautiful sounds from that beautiful mouth with each lick from John's tongue.
The keening sounds Sherlock made, the way his muscles quivered, the taste of him, even the smell of raspberry body wash from all that excessive cleaning, John was not only no longer hesitant about going down on another man, but was loving every moment of it. Sherlock's clear delight fueled John, now greedy, ravenous at the thought of hearing, feeling his lover come undone.
Another lick of his tongue and Sherlock's quivering legs quivered more.
…
Sherlock was stroking himself faster, his hips canting up more visibly. John gripped his erection harder, whining from wanting to taste him again right now, imagining running his tongue over him that first time, exploring, learning every part of him all over again.
…
Learning what made him moan louder, what made his legs tremble harder, finding what spots when touch by his tongue made Sherlock whimper in ecstasy, John was in his own heaven.
Circling his tongue back up to the head of his cock, John tasted precum. The taste…oh god...the taste, he needed, had to have more and slid his tongue over the slit of Sherlock's cock. Sherlock groaned and tossed his head back, striking the wall again.
…
"Oh god...please...do that again…John please."
Sherlock dropped his head back over the top of his chair, crying out so loud surely half the restaurant heard him. John's mouth watered remembering that taste.
Remembering that pleading voice, the desperate craving in it; it sent a shameless spark straight to his cock.
...
Oh fucking hell...Sherlock didn't have to ask, John wanted nothing more at that moment but to taste him again, but hearing his always wanting to be in control detective beg, god it was so wantonly erotic and so unrestrained, so wild, John knew he would be making Sherlock beg many many times in the future.
But not yet, not now, no, this was all about Sherlock, about those words 'you never have to', about giving his love everything he wanted.
John slid his tongue across the slit of his cock again and the fingers in his hair dug in sharper, inflaming John further.
…
"John, ahh god…"
Sherlock reached up with his other hand to grab hold of the table-cloth, digging his nails in.
John's already aching erection throbbed under his grip.
So fixated on Sherlock, John only vaguely heard someone trying to grab their attention. The voice so detached he didn't place it to the person standing not far behind Sherlock.
…
Again and again, licking, savoring the taste and savoring the whimpers of pleasure from Sherlock, John wanted to do this all night and day, but also wanted so much more, wanted to give Sherlock so much more. Still gripping the base of his erection, John slid him deep into his mouth.
...
Sherlock hollered out his name so loud the entire restaurant must have heard him.
That pesky, annoying voice trying to pull John's attention away from the amazing sight across the table from him, that bothersome voice, thankfully went quiet.
...
Working Sherlock further into his mouth, those strong legs were shaking so bad John reached his other hand around to Sherlock's arse to steady him. And taking him in fully, the fingers in his hair dug into his scalp with exquisite pain. John moaned around the length of him deep in his mouth and he heard the sound of the shower curtain finally tearing from the strain of Sherlock's grip.
….
Sherlock jerked himself faster, his moans reaching a fevered pitch. Flushed, eyes still closed, a layer of sweat coated his face, his thin shirt sticking to his skin from perspiration, that long willowy body splayed out so far into on the seat his arse must be right on the edge.
...
John worked his lover's erection in and out of his mouth faster, stroking the base of him. Over the sounds of Sherlock moaning and calling out, he heard the shower curtain tearing away completely.
No longer just gripping his erection, John rubbed himself over his jeans. The table-cloth strained under Sherlock's fingernails tearing into it.
When the curtain tore away, Sherlock other hand clasped at the back of his head, both hands now tangled in his wet hair, nails scratching, clawing into him. John mewled at the sweet pain and the feeling of Sherlock sliding in and out of his mouth.
"Oh god..John…John…" Sherlock arched back into the chair.
"John…oh god..gonna come."
His always thinking, thoughtful lover, gripped his hair and tried to pull away, to release himself from John's mouth before he came.
John wasn't having it, oh god no, he wanted, needed Sherlock completely, pulling his arse in tight, keeping Sherlock in his mouth as his orgasm rocked through him.
"Fuck..John..John.."
Sherlock came, releasing deep in John's mouth, releasing over his hand and shooting out over his delightfully tight shirt.
"Oh god Sherlock." John's cock ached painfully watching his lover come, not a care in the world where they were, not a thought of anything but John taking his orgasm completely.
John was dizzy from breathing so hard, Sherlock still moaning his name again and again, when the rest of the world came flooding back. The rest of the world being really rude, standing near their table claiming the police were on the way.
"Sherlock!"
Sherlock was still thrown back, shuddering from his orgasm.
"Sherlock, we have to go. Now!"
His lovely partner tilted his head back down, one of those even lovelier grins showing.
John placed his napkin on his plate of cold mostly uneaten dinner, got out his wallet and threw down enough money to pay for their meal three times over. Grabbed his coat, John looked over to Sherlock who was just starting to composed himself, and gave him a look that said 'get your ass up right now!'
Without waiting, John almost knocked over the angry, fluster manager in his rush to get out of there as quickly as possible.

They were fortunate to grab a cab before the police arrived, though it was a rather short cab ride. For some reason, the cabbie wasn't too thrilled with Sherlock undoing John's jeans and working a hand down them.
And Sherlock and John weren't too thrilled with being interrupted and thrown out of the cab, getting home was fast approaching emergency status.
The second cabbie didn't seem to mind the two of them pawing at each other like sex starved teenagers. By the time they pulled up to Baker Street, John's boxers were promptly on display, Sherlock nice tight thin shirt was completely unbuttoned, and the pair almost left a number of discarded clothing in the cab having other more important things on their mind.
Once inside the door, the discarded clothing was dropped and forgotten immediately, and they made quick work on discarding the rest.
Too quickly, causing John to trip up the stairs around jeans tangled about his ankles. Falling forward into Sherlock, who fell forward and down to the landing.
Getting up stairs was also forgotten at that point and not long after Sherlock was the one getting reprimanded by Mrs. Hudson for hollering like a banshee.

"Sherlock, next time you pull that crap could you at least let me eat half my dinner first?"
"Hmm?"
John was once again staring at the unappetizing contents of the fridge. In all that worrying about Sherlock's game during dinner, he'd only gotten in three or four bites of food. It was late, they both needed a shower, which wasn't a bad thing John mused, but he was still damn hungry.
"Going out to dinner was, you know, because I was hungry, not just for your amusement."
"Was it?"
He felt the temptation to call him a bastard but one look over at grinning fool, sitting at the table in just those wonderful silk pant and that god damn gorgeous velvet jacket to keep warm, and John could only smile. "Well letting me eat first would have been nice."
"Just heat something up."
"There's nothing good in the fridge."
"Yes there is."
John looked back at the measly contents of their fridge, "No just old Chinese takeout, and older Sheppard's pie, and your experiment."
"How about the risotto from Angelo's?"
"There isn't any…oh my god."
John snatched the box labeled Bio Hazard out of the fridge. Without opening it, he tossed it into the microwave and turned to see Sherlock snickering.
"Such a bastard."
"I know."
After heating up his late dinner, John got Sherlock to admit to all of his planning, picking up his favorite meal the day before, the reservations, how he knew just when they would arrive at the restaurant, and that the bloody twit had picked a place he knew they both didn't prefer, anticipating their permanent ban.
As usual, John ate while Sherlock watched him, just like at the restaurant. It was only Thursday, Sherlock rarely ate full meals, preferring to just pick at bits of snacks, until tomorrow. Tomorrow he would finally have his weekly breakfast. And a lunch and dinner on Sunday.
Only half listening to Sherlock, John started picturing how nice it would be to have breakfast in bed with him tomorrow, some jam on toast curled up in blankets around that warm, toasty bare body.
And right about then, that odd thought popped back into his head, the smell raspberries.
Raspberry body wash.
Raspberry jam on toast.
And that odd thought formed into an interesting new idea, an idea for an interesting breakfast.
Sherlock stopped talking about all that he had planned, letting John work out his own plan.
Once he worked it out, John just smiled at eagerly anticipating Sherlock.
Sherlock fidgeted in his seat, trying to contain his excitement. "So?"
"Time for a shower I think."
Sherlock grinned and got up. Heading to the bathroom, he couldn't quite hide the delight in his little dash to the shower. He knew, there was no doubt he knew John had come up with a new bet and he wasn't going to ruin it by figuring it out beforehand.
Before joining him, John cleaned up his mostly eaten meal. Then got one item out of the cupboard and placed in on the center of the table, along with a simple note. The note was to make sure Sherlock didn't wake up early and have breakfast without him but also to make it perfectly clear John could make a 'not really a bet' bet too.
Heading to join his once again sweaty and come covered lover in the shower, John left the jar of raspberry jam on the kitchen table with the note,
'I bet you can't guess what's for breakfast.'

Gah..this was delayed, sorry. It was a lot harder to write than I thought it would be. I hope it reads okay.
And as always, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it.
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Two Simple Sentences