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Sherlock was doing everything he could to piss off John. Not exactly something the average person would find themselves wanting to do, but he had his reasons. Three weeks ago, when he has accidentally spilled acid all over the kitchen and John had accidentally stepped in a puddle that had landed on the floor, he had said something that peaked Sherlock's interest.
After the cursing, howling, and flailing about that comes after one steps in acid, John looked Sherlock straight in the eye and said, "If you were a child I'd spank you for being so sodding careless." And then, the nerve of him, John just left Sherlock alone to ponder this new visual.
And what a visual it was. Sherlock pictured staring into the eyes of Captain Watson, pants and trousers violently rucked down to his knees. Then wordlessly, John would bend him over his lap. He'd be trembling by now, he was trembling just thinking about it. And when John's steady hand would come crashing down on his bare arse Sherlock would moan.
This imagery had quickly become the sole thought that Sherlock would masturbate to each night. And now he was determined to experience it for real. In the past two weeks he had, caught the kitchen on fire, burned a hole through one of John's favorite jumpers while experimenting on it, broken the bathroom sink, clogged every drain in the flat with clay, and now he was currently working with incredibly odorous chemicals that did more than just burn the hairs out of your nose.
And John was seething. He was nearing his breaking point. There was no going back now. Sherlock let a droplet of an offending chemical slip into his mixture and it exploded in a puff of foul smelling grey green smoke.
John glared at Sherlock and hurried to open the windows despite it being the dead of winter, muttering all the while to show Sherlock just how very pissed off he was.
"What the hell is your bloody problem!" John was steaming mad. Sherlock could imagine smoke billowing out of his ears. And dear lord, it was hot. Angry John was hot.
Sherlock simply shrugged, as if answering John was not extremely high on his list of priorities.
This made John even more infuriated and soon flames joined the smoke billowing out of John's ears.
He's just where you want him, careful... Sherlock cautioned himself.
Sherlock knew he needed to tread carefully. If he was too standoffish, and held his ground when John advanced to berate him, John would become very angry and leave the flat. Perhaps he wouldn’t return for the rest of the weekend, he’d find some mate’s sofa to kip on for a few nights.
So this time, when John stepped into Sherlock's personal space, index finger wagging, Sherlock slowly, very slowly, backed away. The movement was hardly enough to be noticed, but it caused John to unconsciously advance even more. And that was exactly what Sherlock wanted, so he kept backing up, inch by inch. John advanced more. Soon Sherlock's back was pressed against the cold metal of the fridge and John, for lack of better words as Sherlock's brain wasn't firing on all cylinders, was towering over him.
My, my, Watson... When did you become so fucking sexy... Sherlock chided himself for the thought and forced himself to pay attention.
John had his right hand flat against the fridge just above Sherlock's left shoulder and was going on about "This god awful stench", or something along those lines, when he suddenly became very aware of their position. Sherlock had to act quickly before John had a chance to pull away and reached for his jacket.
"What are you going to do." Sherlock sneered, "Spank me, like a disobedient child... Captain?" Sherlock watched triumphantly as John's breathing hitched and his left eyebrow twitched. He found himself wondering if that was the only part of John's anatomy that was twitching.
"John, I." Sherlock began to say, hoping he hadn't pushed John too far, but was cut off by John pressing his index finger against Sherlock's lips. Sherlock hushed obediently and quickly catalogued exactly how John tasted. His finger was salty, had a hint of black tea leaves, and still tasted like toothpaste.
"Can it, Sherlock. You have been absolutely insufferable these past few weeks. I don't want to hear anything you have to say in way of a pathetic apology." John's voice was a mere growl and Sherlock had to fight to keep his knees from buckling. Interesting, the effect John Watson had on him....
"What should I do with you.... Hmm? A spanking?" He arched his left eyebrow and suddenly his left hand was gripping Sherlock's hip so hard that Sherlock let out a surprised cry of pain.
"Oh stop complaining." John now gripped Sherlock with both hands and was pulling him away from the fridge. "This is, after all, what you asked for." In one quick movement John spun Sherlock around while pushing him forward at the same time. "My bedroom. Now." It was an order, and it made Sherlock moan.
"Y.. Your room?" He knew better than to question Captain Watson, but he couldn't stop himself from attempting to quench his curiosity.
"Yes, as it is probably the only room that doesn't smell utterly repulsive." John gave Sherlock a gentle but firm shove in the direction of the stairs. He obediently walked toward the stairs and with each step felt a nervous energy overtake him. The higher he climbed, the more aware of John's, no Captain Watson's presence he became, and the more his body quivered in anticipation.
Sherlock entered John's bedroom and lowered his gaze. He had been in John's room many times before, but never with John's permission or knowledge. And now he knew better than to appear nosy. He heard the door close behind him. For some god awful reason the sound of the tumblers in the lock clicking together sent a shiver down his spine.
John circled him, inspecting him as he would were they in the army. He poked and prodded, pressing a hand on Sherlock's back to get him to stand up taller, or roughly grasping Sherlock's chin, moving it side to side as if daring Sherlock to challenge him or speak. When Sherlock did neither John arched an eyebrow again and nodded his approval.
"What is it you want from me, Sherlock?" His voice was firm, controlled, but it had a gentle edge to it. The tone indicated that he was open, and willing, to listen. Sherlock swallowed, it was now or never.
"John..."
John cleared his throat and gave Sherlock a pointed look.
"Captain..." John nodded so Sherlock continued. "I want..." He hesitated. How could he voice his deepest desires without sounding like a pervert. What if he told John and John just laughed at him, or was disgusted with him? He couldn't bear to lose John... But here he was, by his own doing, standing in John's bedroom being circled and inspected by his friend. A sharp pain seared through his body and it took him a moment to realize that the cause of the pain had come from John. In his hesitation John had slapped the sensitive skin of his thigh, just where it met his arse.
"Tell..." Slap. "Me..." Slap. "What you want!" Another slap, all three in the same spot as the first. Sherlock's eyes watered and he found himself terribly turned on.
"I want you to hit me, Captain. Everywhere." He squeezed his eyes shut and blurted out without really thinking about it.
"And why do you want me to hit you?" John growled as he circled back around to look Sherlock square in the eyes.
"Because, I've been a horrible flatmate. Burning things, breaking things... The... Stench..." Sherlock trailed off, and found himself unable to look John in the eyes so he glanced at his bare feet and wiggled his toes.
"And because it turns you on?" John offered a dark chuckle and his hand was suddenly cupping the erection that Sherlock was hoping he wouldn't notice. Sherlock said nothing for a moment but yelped when John suddenly squeezed.
"Answer me!" John leaned forward and hissed in Sherlock's ear. "Tell me how much it turns you on, having me in control." As he pulled away, John's tongue, the source of his eternal teasing, darted out of his parted lips and ran across Sherlock's ear.
"Yes! Because you turn me on!" Sherlock confessed, whimpering as John's hand withdrew from his erection and went to John's hip. John smiled at Sherlock's confession and ran a finger across Sherlock's jaw.
"Shall we begin then?" John brought his voice back to a deep, commanding growl and roughly grabbed Sherlock's elbow. When Sherlock simply nodded he half guided, half dragged Sherlock to his bed. He turned Sherlock around so his back was to the bed and stepped back. He swept his eyes over Sherlock then stepped in close again. John placed both hands on Sherlock's hips and hooked his fingers under the waistband of Sherlock's pajamas. He met Sherlock's eyes, silently asking for permission.
Sherlock nodded and let out a whimper when he, in one swift movement, pulled down Sherlock's pajamas and pants. He lowered them all the way to Sherlock's knees then reached up and tore off Sherlock's dressing gown and shirt. John eyed the prize in front of him. His eyes lingering on Sherlock's leaking prick. But before Sherlock had time to feel self conscious about how his ribs stuck out, or how bony his hips were, John was roughly shoving him onto the bed.
"On your stomach!" He barked, and smiled to himself as the lanky detective scrambled to obey. Without removing any of his clothes John clambered onto the bed and, facing Sherlock's feet, straddled Sherlock. He positioned himself just at the small of Sherlock's back, Sherlock's pale arse staring up at him. "Safe word is Crime."
And with that, John's warm, strong hands were caressing Sherlock's arse. The sensation sent an electronic shock though Sherlock's body and, for a moment, he forgot about the impending spanking. All he could think was, John is touching me... John's hands... Warm, soft, strong, calloused hands... John... John raked his nails across Sherlock's skin, by the feel of it leaving red marks in their wake, then his hands were gone.
Sherlock stiffened, bracing himself for the first swat. But none came. Instead he heard the telltale sound of John's belt being undone. He heard the sound of John pulling it from the stiff denim belt loops. He heard John running it though his hand. And then he felt it. Hot and hard across his left cheek. He bit his lip, his toes curled and his hands gripped the duvet so hard his knuckles went white.
John's hand rubbed gently over his stinging behind and he felt John's silent laughter. The laugh came with another crack of the belt, this time lower on his right cheek, almost on his thigh. And this time, when John touched it, it was with his fingernails. Sherlock yelped and tried to move, but John's muscular thighs pinned him to the bed, keeping him still.
"Nooooo.. I don't think so." John chided, bringing the belt down four times in rapid succession. "You asked for this, you wanted this...." He raked his fingernails over Sherlock's arse then tossed the belt aside. "Do you want more?"
John kneaded Sherlock's arse and pulled his cheeks apart. Sherlock felt exposed, lying beneath John with his cheeks being squeezed together then pulled apart. It was humiliating, but only because the evidence of how much he enjoyed it was currently trapped between his body and the bed. John's bed. He was so turned on it hurt, his skin growing ever tighter around his throbbing prick.
"I asked you a question!" John brought both hands down on his arse so hard that Sherlock was positive he'd have John's handprints on his bottom for a week. If not two... I do bruise easily. He snapped out of his thoughts when John leaned forward and roughly pinched his thigh.
“Yes please!” Sherlock yelped and fought the urge to buck John off of his lap. “Please, Captain, I want you to spank me more.”
“With what? My hand, or my belt?” John’s nails bit into his flesh and Sherlock uttered a rather embarrassingly loud moan.
“H… hands, Sir. Please.” Sherlock wiggled his arse as much as he could and John just chuckled at his feeble movements. And then, the glorious weight of John disappeared from Sherlock’s back. Sherlock whimpered and snaked his head around to see where John was going.
John did not go far. He scooted to the edge of the bed and only briefly met Sherlock’s gaze. During the five seconds their eyes met John patted his lap, indicating that Sherlock should… Should what? Sit on it, lay over it, sit beside him? Sherlock gave John a questioning look and crawled to his side. John seemed to understand Sherlock’s confusion and patted his lap again, this time saying “Com’ere.” John guided Sherlock onto his lap so he was sitting, legs hooked around John’s waist facing him.
“Bloody gorgeous man…” John murmured as he stroked Sherlock’s face. “Do you know how long I’ve waited to touch you? How long I’ve wanted this… wanted you?” John cupped Sherlock’s face in his hand, letting his fingers massage into Sherlock’s scalp. He let his other hand roam over Sherlock’s shoulders and back. “Though… never expected this…” John squeezed Sherlock’s arse with both hands. Sherlock blushed and tried to bury his head on John’s shoulder, but John pushed him away.
“No, no hiding.” John cupped Sherlock’s face again, this time brushing his lips against Sherlock’s jaw. “You sure you want us to continue? We could… try other things.” John trailed his finger down Sherlock’s stomach.
“John… Captain… Sir, I want,” Sherlock bit his bottom lip and stared at John’s lips. “want to…” Sherlock blushed a deep scarlet red as he voiced his innermost desire. “I want to achieve orgasm from the sole pleasure of you spanking me.”
“Can you?” John asked in disbelief.
“I have, nearly every night, from the thought alone.” Sherlock confessed, blushing an even deeper shade of scarlet.
“Have you now?” John chuckled and looked hard at Sherlock. “And you’re just now telling me?” John tisked and squeezed Sherlock’s arse, letting his nails dig in. “Well, then I guess you need to be punished. Thinking about your best friend and wanking to it each night… without telling me.” John tisked again, shaking his head slowly.
Sherlock wasn’t sure how it happened, but with one, lightning fast move, John twisted Sherlock around and had him bent over his lap in mere seconds. He heard the clink of a small metal chain and soon John's dog tags were being placed around his neck. The cold metal made Sherlock moan and he absentmindedly gyrated his hips against John's leg. The rough fabric of John's jeans felt spectacular on his neglected prick.
"Stay! Still!" Each word was accentuated by a hard swat to Sherlock's already tender bottom. Sherlock forced himself to still and blinked away the tears. He couldn't them. They were a mixture of pain, and the utter disbelief that his fantasies were actually happening. That John hadn't laughed in his face and called him a freak. That John's dog tags were hanging around his neck, claiming ownership of him.
Sherlock bit his lip to stifle a low keen as anticipation welled up inside of him. From his new position, Sherlock could feel the unmistakable hardness of John’s erection pressing into his side. He was so busy attempting to calculate its length and girth that he wasn’t expecting to barrage of pain that John rained down on his arse.
Sherlock howled, kicked, twisted, he did everything he could to squirm off of John’s lap. But it was all to no avail. John had an iron strong arm wrapped around his torso, effectively only allowing him less than an inch in either direction. He was utterly powerless against John. He also found that the only thought he was fully able to process was “John…. John… John!” Each time John brought his hand down on Sherlock’s arse Sherlock experienced a new, even deeper level of pleasure. He was keenly aware of just how much his prick was leaking, so much in fact he would not be surprised if there was a pool of his own precum on the floor.
“John…” Sherlock needed more. He tried to rub himself against John’s leg, but he wasn’t able to get close enough to find any kind of relief. Instead, the “Just barely there” sensation only made his needs worse. John took pity on the detective and moved his hand from where it was splayed on Sherlock’s stomach to wrap it around Sherlock’s length. John’s strong, warm, calculating fingers slid over Sherlock’s self slicked length. Sherlock let out a moan that, in any other circumstances. would have been incredibly embarrassing, but now the noise seemed to encourage John. John tightened his fingers and began to stroke Sherlock with relentless speed.
It was all over too fast, with John’s relentless stroking, and his arse searing from the spanking, Sherlock came with a shout. His vision swam, and changed from red, to black, and then he felt the tug of the orgasm rip through his entire body. He painted John’s leg, the bed, and the floor with his cum then collapsed over John’s lap. John’s hand moved from his arse and began roaming gently over Sherlock’s back. After a few minutes, Sherlock stirred and sat up, just to bury himself in John’s shoulder. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s back and peppered his neck with kisses, whispering endearments into Sherlock’s ear.
“Sherlock,” John held Sherlock’s head in his hands and pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s. “are you alright?”
“Yes, John.” Sherlock nodded and smiled, a happy, sated smile. “Quite well, thank you.”
“I didn’t hurt you?” John chuckled softly, “well… you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do.” Sherlock smiled and pressed a shy kiss to the corner of John’s mouth. “And no, no harm done… Though I have.. made quite a mess.”
“Mmm…” John craned his neck around Sherlock’s body and laughed when he saw the state of the floor. “I’m sure it’ll see worse.”
“You mean…” Sherlock blinked and stared at John in disbelief. “that you’d…” He blinked some more and stared at John with a blank look. “you’d do this again?”
“Mmm, yes.” John pressed a chaste kiss to Sherlock’s lips. “But, now I’ve got a bit of a problem…” Sherlock cast John a confused look until John pressed his hips up against Sherlock’s torso. Sherlock blushed and smiled as understanding washed over him. “What do you propose we do about this, Sherlock?”
“You…” Sherlock cleared his throat and tried not to notice the smirk that was creeping over John’s face. “could, fuck me?” His voice was so quiet that Sherlock was forced to look John in the eye to see if heard him.
“Do you want me too? You aren’t too sore?” John let his hands drop as far as Sherlock’s hips, his fingers teasing over Sherlock’s skin. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s chin and searched Sherlock’s expressive grey eyes.
“Please, John…” Sherlock smirked and cupped a hand over John’s groin. “I want you inside me.” John let out a shaky breath and threw his head back as Sherlock lunged for his throat. Sherlock kissed his way to John's mouth and uttered a purely primal moan as John's hands flew into his hair, locking their lips together in a crushing kiss. They kissed with a passion Sherlock never knew existed, as if John's lips were the sole reason to live.
Somehow their position had shifted, John was now on his back on the bed. Sherlock's legs were on either side of John's hips, his hands roaming John's body on their own accord. With skilled fingers Sherlock relieved John of his blue striped t-shirt and tossed it onto the floor. Sherlock broke away from John's mouth for a moment and soaked in the sight. He had imagined how John might look shirtless, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.
John was stunning... His assuredly once toned muscles now had a small layer of pudge protecting them, and that made Sherlock grin. He was the reason for that pudge. Before he had met Sherlock, John had been fighting PTSD, not because of the war, but because he missed the war. He missed danger, excitement, and having a purpose, a reason to wake up each morning. Sherlock, in a single day, had cured him of his eating disorder and his PTSD. Sherlock pressed a kiss to the soft part of John's stomach before smashing their lips together in a desperately needy kiss.
Sherlock dipped a hand between their bodies and made quick work of the button that was currently holding back John's straining cock. He pulled open John's trousers and wrapped his hand around John's prick though the soft cotton of his pants. John let out a breathy sigh and gripped the blankets as if he were about to float away.
John rutted against Sherlock's hand and swept his tongue over his plump bottom lip. Sherlock's lips parted and his needy moan filled John's mouth as their tongues met. Sherlock floundered awkwardly, his tongue flicking over John's teeth and tongue. "Like this, luv." He whispered into Sherlock's mouth. He slowed his movements down allowing Sherlock to mimic his movements. Soon Sherlock caught on and was adding in his own twists that made John shiver with pleasure. John let his hands roam freely over Sherlock and soon his hands were kneading Sherlock's arse.
"Mmfff.." Sherlock tried to speak, but as his tongue was still inside John's mouth his words were unintelligible. He pulled away, panting, and tried again. "Lube?" He was not asking if John had any, because of course John had some, but where. John pointed to the bottom drawer of his bedside table. Sherlock dove for the table as if it were harboring the last known pack of cigarettes, tearing through the drawer until his fingers found what he was looking for and gave a triumphant shout. He pressed the bottle into John's eager fingers and peppered John's face with sloppy kisses.
"Can't reach, luv..." John murmured as Sherlock sucked on his ear. "Lay on your back." John maneuvered Sherlock until he was on his back, with a pillow propped under his butt. He stepped off the bed long enough to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and took Sherlock's knees in his hands. He kissed each knee then slowly separated them, pulling them apart to reveal Sherlock's puckered pink hole. Sherlock blushed a deep scarlet as he was laid bare in front of John.
"Bloody gorgeous, you are..." John breathed and kissed his way down Sherlock's left thigh, stopping right before the neatly trimmed hair at the top of Sherlock's cock. "Mm this is nice..." John ran his tongue over the patch of well maintained hair and teasingly swirled it around in small circles.
"It's... Neater." Sherlock shrugged and relaxed into John's touch. "I prefer my doctors clean shaven." Sherlock winked and eyed the patch of reddish blond hair at the base of John's prick.
"Yeah well, you'll have to make do for now." John chuckled as he looped one of Sherlock's legs up over his shoulder. John began to slick up a finger when a wicked grin crossed over his face. "Are you..." He hesitated for a moment, not knowing how to ask this without being indelicate. "Clean?"
"I assumed you're not talking talking about STD’s... But in either case, yes, I am clean. Why do you..." Sherlock's eyes grew wide and he let out a broken cry as John buried his head between his thighs and John's warm tongue was breaching his entrance. "Oooooohhh...."
John pulled away with a wicked chuckle. His teeth latched onto the tender flesh on the inside of Sherlock’s thigh. He bit hard and sucked a mark onto Sherlock’s skin. Only when he was satisfied that Sherlock would have a mark for a least a week did he go back to his previous actions. His tongue darted in and around Sherlock’s hole. Sherlock was soon reduced to a whimpering mess, his hands roving the bed grasping for purchase.
“You… and that wicked…” Sherlock panted into his fist as he bit down on one of his knuckles. “wicked tongue.”
John circled his tongue around the inside of Sherlock’s hole in a way of answer, forcing a guttural moan out of Sherlock’s perfect lips. John added a finger and pushed it into the second knuckle.
“More! John…. more…” Sherlock whined, bucking his hips so John’s finger sunk deeper inside him.
“Excuse me?” John bit down hard on Sherlock’s thigh then lifted his head to look at Sherlock. “What did you call me?”
“Captain!” Sherlock corrected himself. “Please, Captain… more.”
John spat a wad of spit into Sherlock’s hole and added two more fingers. He hooked his fingers and pressed the pads of his fingertips against Sherlock’s prostate. Sherlock began writhing and bucking so hard that John needed to place his right hand over his stomach to hold him to the bed.
“Try to stay still, luv…” He whispered, sucking more marks up Sherlock’s thigh. “Tell me when you’re ready.”
“Now, John… Captain.. I’m ready now!” Sherlock fought against John’s hand and wiggled his arse, emphasizing his desire.
John shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. Keeping his fingers inside Sherlock, teasing his prostate, he flipped the top off the bottle of lube. He poured a liberal amount over the length of his prick before wrapping a tight hand around it. He gave himself a few quick tugs then shuffled onto his knees between Sherlock’s legs.
“Eerrr… Captain?” Sherlock looked up and batted his eyes, and for a second John thought he saw a bashful expression cross his face.
“Yes, Sherlock?” John kissed Sherlock’s knee and waited patiently.
“Could I…” Sherlock propped himself up on his elbows and swallowed. “That is, I would… if it’s okay, like to ride your cock.”
“Mmmmm…” John kissed Sherlock’s knee again. He gripped both of Sherlock’s legs and flipped over onto his back, pulling Sherlock on top of him. He folded his hands under his head and watched as Sherlock positioned himself over his prick. Sherlock’s long fingers wrapped around his length and he had to bite back a moan.
John watched Sherlock’s face as the detective slowly lowered himself down on his prick. With every inch he took, Sherlock’s face portrayed a deeper and stronger desire for more. Sherlock had a thin layer of sweat glistening on his brow when he finally came to rest flush against John. John had to take several deep calming breaths to keep from thrusting into Sherlock’s tight heat. After a moment Sherlock let out a soft moan as he lifted himself up a few inches.
“Captain…” Sherlock breathed, running his hands over John’s torso.
“Sherlock….” John matched Sherlock’s tone and lifted his hips off the bed, grinning when Sherlock leaned forward, resting his weight onto his hands, just over John’s heart. Sherlock sunk down on John again, this time his moan was louder.
“Please… I need your hands on me… Please…” Sherlock begged as he rode John.
“Mmm..” John hummed happily and stuffed a pillow under his head. He ran his hands over Sherlock’s torso and gave Sherlock’s nipples a test pinch. When this made Sherlock positively shudder with pleasure John grinned and pinched harder. Sherlock shifted forward and John groaned.
“Fuck, Sherlock… just like that.” He pinched harder and lifted his head up to meet Sherlock’s lips. Sherlock slammed his hips down hard and ran his tongue over John’s bottom lip as John moaned into his mouth.
“Just like that…” John whispered again, releasing one of Sherlock’s nipples so he could grip Sherlock’s har. “Don’t stop… Whatever you do, don’t… bloody… stop.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Captain.” Sherlock smirked and pressed a kiss to John’s jaw. John trailed the hand that wasn’t tangled in Sherlock’s hair to Sherlock’s hip and squeezed.
“Faster, Sherlock…” He muttered, biting the soft skin on Sherlock’s neck, swirling his tongue over the sensitive skin.
“Will you…” Sherlock grunted, both from pleasure and exertion. “will you.. inside me.”
“Mmm.” John nodded against Sherlock’s neck, tightening his grip on Sherlock's hair. "Is that where you want it?" He peppers Sherlock's neck with kisses and rose his hips to meet each one of Sherlock's thrusts.
"Please!" Sherlock keened desperately into John's ear. "I need it, need to feel you fill me. Please..." Sherlock swiped his tongue over John's ear, causing John to moan with pleasure. He did it again, and again, until John's movements were shaky and uncoordinated. With one final snap of his hips he felt John stiffen beneath him. Instead of slowing down or stopping Sherlock sped up and milked every last second of John's orgasm out of him.
When John finally came down from his high he wrapped both arms around Sherlock's torso and pulled him close against his chest. Breathing hard, he buried his nose in Sherlock's hair and laughed.
"That... Was..." Sherlock couldn't help it. He stiffened and waited for the insults to come pouring down. So when John finished with "brilliant." Sherlock let out a broken sob and gripped John's arms.
"Hey..." John kissed Sherlock's head and craned his neck, trying to see what was wrong. "Sherlock?"
"John..." Sherlock sobbed, fully aware that he was now getting snot all over John's chest. "How... How are you so perfect? From the moment we first met. You've always surprised me. Where others would call me freak, you praise me."
"Because...." John kissed Sherlock's hair again. "I love you." He said it quietly, but the words burned through Sherlock as if he has shouted it.
"You...." Sherlock sniffed and tried to ignore the sound of his beating heart.
"Love you? Yes. I thought that was obvious." John laughed and reached for something on his nightstand. A few seconds later he was pushing Sherlock up into a half sitting position and dabbing a tissue over his tear stained face.
"No... Well... Not to me." Sherlock took the tissue from John and blew his nose. "You... love me." He said again, smiling wide. "Actually love me?"
"Yes of course I do, you big idiot." John grinned, patiently waiting for the detective to process this new information.
"So, that night at Angelo's. You were asking me out?"
"Mmm yes." John kissed Sherlock's nose then pulled him back into his arms.
"John..." Sherlock kissed John's chest.
"Hmm?"
"I love you too."