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John
Holy shit.
Sherlock is in his house.
Sherlock Holmes.
Sitting on his sofa. In his house. Waiting for John to bring him a cup of coffee.
If he peeks around the corner of the small kitchen he can just see his mop of unruly dark curls over the back of the couch.
Holy shit.
He had hoped they'd get to this point but he never actually thought.......
Ho-ly shit.
He needs to stop swearing.
But Sherlock is his boyfriend now.
His actual boyfriend.
Holy......
At least.....he thinks that's what they are. They did kiss....after John bumbled his way through some sort of love confession.
The words had sounded so much better in his head.
They always do.
He tends to have a hard time putting into words what he actually thinks.
Oh well.
He thinks he got the message across adequately enough.
He can still feel Sherlock's soft plush lips on his if he closes his eyes.
On his neck....the hollow at the bottom of his throat.....
John swallows.
He desperately wants more of it.
But he's not quite sure how far Sherlock is willing to go.
It seems that Sherlock doesn't have a whole lot of experience where relationships are concerned....and intimacy.
John swallows again.
Holy shit.
He has decided that he is going to let Sherlock dictate the pace at which they are going to take things.
After having pined after him for such a long time he is not going to screw it all up by scaring Sherlock away now.
And, honestly, it's all fine by him.
As long as he gets to spend time with Sherlock.
He peeks around the corner of the kitchen again.
Sherlock is shifting on the couch.
He's probably getting impatient....wondering why John is taking so long.
Shit.
He looks at the coffee maker.
This would probably go slightly faster if he actually turned the blasted thing on.
Sherlock
John's house is nice. It suits him. It's small. Compact. To the point. What you see is what you get.
Honest.
Sherlock runs his fingers along the seam of the couch he's currently sitting on.
John has momentarily gone to the kitchen to make them both a cup of coffee.
Sherlock is actually glad he's left him alone here for a bit.
It gives him time to adjust.
Get his head around this new situation they find themselves in.
He kissed John.
John kissed him.
He kissed John again.
He finds his cheeks heating up as he thinks back on that moment. Not even an hour ago.
It feels like it's been a lifetime.
He desperately wants to kiss John again.
He's just not sure if he's allowed.
He's not sure how this works.
Relationships?
Are they in a relationship now?
He hopes they are.
But....still....
The thought terrifies him.
He doesn't know what couples do. How they act.
He never thought he'd be part of one.....a couple.
Especially not one where John Watson....Rugby John.....is the other participant.
What if John finds his lack of experience disappointing....boring.......stupid......
He shifts on the couch. Suddenly feeling very uneasy.
God....what if John changes his mind.
John
The coffee maker is on.
Finally.
It'll take another 5 minutes at least until it's done brewing and they'll have something to drink.
He makes his way back to the living room.
To Sherlock.
“Hey, you”, he says. He finds he cannot stop himself from smiling when looking at Sherlock.
After John's invitation to come and drink coffee at his house Sherlock had changed from his sweatpants and tank-top into a pair of dark jeans and a light-blue t-shirt. John had waited outside in the hallway while Sherlock dressed. Getting undressed in front of each other is something John would definitely like to see happen sometime but it is a boundary they need to discuss before they actually cross it.
The shirt is a little bit on the tight side and when Sherlock had come out of the dressing room and John had first caught sight of him in it he had only barely been able to suppress the urge to pull Sherlock against him again and kiss him all over.
But he had resisted.
Mostly because Sherlock had looked so nervous.
Almost frightened.
His inexperience written all over his face.
John hates to admit it but the fact that Sherlock is utterly clueless to all of this....any of it....turns him on immensely.
He feels like such a creep for it.
But damn.
Hot damn.
Every time Sherlock blushes or casts his eyes down demurely.....bites his lip.
John wants to take that lip between his own teeth and bite down gently....and pull...
Sherlock is just so goddamn pretty.
Like.....insanely pretty.
So pretty it should be illegal.
Everything looks good on him.
Like right now, for instance, his hair is a downright mess. Curls sticking out in impossible angles. He hasn't removed his eye-liner and it's starting to smudge. Sherlock looks like the very definition of chaos.
But, hot damn, if it doesn't do things to John. Makes him all hot and bothered.
But he's not going to do anything.
Not if that's not what Sherlock wants.
As far as he's concerned he'll be equally happy just getting to spend time with Sherlock.
Just sitting with him. Talking with him. Just being allowed to be near him.
Yes, Sherlock is pretty, but he's also interesting.
John has never met anyone like him.
Nothing Sherlock does or says is ordinary or plain and he's just so smart.
So John just smiles a radiant smile at him because all of those feelings need to come out one way or another and sits down on the couch next to him.
“Coffee will be another 5 minutes or so....the machine will beep once it's done”, he says.
Sherlock nods, bites his lip and cast his eyes down to where his fingers currently are busy tracing the seams of the couch.
Hot damn.
Hot damn
Sherlock
Sherlock is at a loss for words.
Well....the words are there but they just seem to die in his mouth now that John is sitting so close to him.
Of course they've been this close before....in the coffee place....but this is John's house.
Where he lives.
And eats.
And sleeps.
And......
Everything around him breathes John and it's intoxicating.
There are pictures on the cabinet, next to the TV.
John...smiling....outside....there's a bright sun behind him in a cloudless blue sky.....his skin is tanned.....probably taken on a holiday.
Pictures of John and his parents.
A much younger John and a dog.....a small Jack Russell Terrier.
There is no evidence of a dog anywhere in the house.
It probably died.
Sherlock wants to ask John about it. He wants to know everything there is to know about John but at the same time....he doesn't want to make John sad.
He notices that there are also no pictures of John's sister.....
So he just doesn't say anything.
“Coffee will be another 5 minutes or so”, John says.
Sherlock just nods.
Oh.....this is going just great
John
This is going great.
Once the coffee is ready Sherlock's fingers will find something to do and he'll probably loosen up a bit.
That's what usually happened when they practiced their lines together.
John would make sure to get them all a cup of coffee first. Just to diffuse the situation a little bit. Sherlock would always relax a bit more once he had a cup of coffee to sip from whenever he needed a couple of seconds to think something over or whenever too much of the attention was focused on him.
Once the coffee maker is done brewing all will be fine.
They just need to find something to do in the meantime.
John can think of a thing or two he would like to do.....
But judging by the nervous pattern Sherlock's fingers trace along the seat of the couch he's pretty sure that'll just freak Sherlock out.
“So”, he says, “do you want to watch a movie?”
Sherlock
Sherlock finds himself panicking.
A movie?
Does he want to watch a movie?
He is very aware of what John's favorite movie is.
James Bond.
Sherlock hates James Bond.
He watched about half of one of those movies over a year ago after he learned that John liked them but he just couldn't find the willpower to struggle all the way through.
The plot made no sense. The characters were utter caricatures of actual people. James Bond is supposed to be a spy but there had been very little actual spying in it.
Mostly just cars and action and very non-practical gadgets....and pretty women......
If they watch James Bond together surely John will realize he doesn't like it and he'll realize they have very little in common and he'll realize kissing Sherlock might have been a mistake after all and then......
John
Oh god......Sherlock....might be hyperventilating.
He's not sure why exactly but he's clearly said or done something wrong just now.
Things are not going as well as he thought after all.
Maybe touching Sherlock is not the best idea at the moment but he finds he simply can't help himself.
His heart breaks whenever he sees Sherlock so insecure....so at a loss.....
There really is no need.
No need at all.
Sherlock is perfect the way he is.
In hindsight.....he had thought so from the very first moment he had laid eyes on him. When he'd seen him in the crowd at one of the rugby matches.
It just had taken some time for him to fully realize it.
Of course...he had still been with Mary at the time.
But then Sherlock had started showing up at parties.
Always in the background.
But Sherlock couldn't blend into the background even if he tried.
With his bright and clever eyes, tall and slim frame, cheekbones to die for, curls as black as ink that John desperately wants to run his hands through.....
He had looked like something out of a fairytale.
A fairy prince.
Dark and mysterious.
But also unreachable.
And John had never quite been able to work up the courage to go and talk to him.
And then.....the last party he had seen Sherlock at. Sherlock had had a little bit too much to drink and had been sitting slumped against the wall outside.
At first John hadn't even realized it had been him.....had just wanted to help a stranger out.....but then.....Sherlock had looked up....and those eyes....
For a moment John had forgotten how to breathe.
He had been sure then.
Very sure.
He had not been able to stop thinking about Sherlock.
So he had told Mary that maybe they needed some time apart.
That he was falling in love with someone else and that he figured that, if you were in a good and solid relationship, things like that shouldn't happen.
He had told Mary he needed time to sort this all out....sort his feelings out....and that it wouldn't be fair to her if they stayed together like this.
“Do I know her?” Mary had asked.
Of course she had assumed it was a woman. The only person John had talked to about his bisexuality was Greg.....and if that hadn't been the first red flag that his relationship with Mary maybe wasn't as perfect as he had hoped.......
“Does it matter?”, he had replied.
Mary had just shrugged and in that moment he had been absolutely sure that, whatever had been between them before, was no longer there.
He has never felt the way he feels about Sherlock.
Not even when things between him and Mary were still good.
So...in a way.....they are both new at this.
He gives Sherlock a soft smile as he carefully extends his hand and places it on top of Sherlock's.
Just to stop his nervous fingers from moving.
And also because he just really, really wants to touch Sherlock.
Sherlock
“We don't have to watch a movie if you don't want to.....it's all fine by me”, John says.
His hand is on Sherlock's and once again he finds he's having difficulty breathing.
But for an entirely different reason this time.
John is so close.
He can smell his cologne.
The shampoo in his hair.
The detergent used to wash his clothes.
The faint smell underneath of just his skin.
Just John.
Sherlock desperately wants to kiss him again.
He's just not sure if that's what John wants right now.
Perfect. Beautiful. Golden John.
Even in the dimmed-down lights of the living room his hair still reminds Sherlock of spun gold.
His eyes an ocean he finds himself drowning in.
He feels nauseous.
John's lips are slightly parted.
He's waiting....for an answer......he's asked Sherlock a question but he hasn't heard it.
All he can hear at the moment is the rushing of his own blood in his ears as his heart has gone into overdrive and his throat has gone dry.
“I......”, he just says.
God....John must think he's an idiot.
John
Could Sherlock be any more adorable right now.
His fingers have stopped moving where they are held in place by John´s own.
His cheeks are delightfully flushed, his eyelashes flutter as he tries to simultaneously look and not look at John.
He´s biting his lip. John is pretty sure he´s not aware that he´s doing it.
John still desperately wants to bite those lips himself.
But he can´t.
He needs to calm Sherlock down.
This must all be so frighteningly new and overwhelming for him.
He needs to let him know that, whatever he´s willing to give, John is willing to take.
Nothing more and nothing less.
Just this.
Nothing.
Anything.
Everything.
It´s all fine by him.
It´s all absolutely, bloody fine.
He´s just so damn happy he gets to have any of this at all.
He can´t help but laugh softly.
This time Sherlock actually does look at him. Confused. John can´t exactly blame him.
“It's all fine”, he says again, “whatever you want to do. We can just talk....or sit here....or......it's all fine.”
He hopes Sherlock understands but he's not quite sure if he does. Instead of replying Sherlock gives him a panicked look.
“I......”, Sherlock says.
John just smiles.
A flustered Sherlock is what dreams are made of.
Well....his dreams anyway.
And so he finds he can't really help himself and he lifts Sherlock's hand, the one he's been holding, and Sherlock moves it along willingly.
He brings it to his lips and places a tender, chaste kiss on the center of the palm.
Sherlock's skin is soft and warm and he really hopes that, someday, he'll get the chance to explore more of it.
Sherlock actually moans and.....by god....if that's not a sound he's going to be hearing in his dreams from now on.
John grins.
And then the coffee maker starts beeping.
He gently places Sherlock's hand back on the couch as if it's something fragile....delicate....and in a way it is, he gets up and makes his way back to the kitchen.
“Be right back”, he says, “with coffee!”
Sherlock nods again. His eyes big, mesmerizing pools in his face as his curls bob along.
And as he takes down two mugs from the kitchen cabinet John wishes he was still holding Sherlock's hand.
Sherlock
His hand feels cold and empty without the warmth of John's fingers and lips.
His lips.
Oh god.
His lips.
On his skin......his hand......Sherlock wants to.....
He doesn't know what he wants.
He does know what he wants.
He can't talk.
Words are no longer something that exist in his world.
He wants John's lips.
He wants.....
John
John stares at the clear liquid gathered in the coffee pot.
This would have gone slightly better had he remembered to actually add the ground coffee before he turned the machine on. It's been running on just water for the last couple of minutes.
Now all he's got to show for it is a coffeepot filled with hot water.....
He's been a bit distracted this evening.
He sighs and, this time, adds the proper amount of coffee before turning it on again.
They'll just have to wait a bit longer.
Sherlock
There is still no coffee.
Something about the coffee maker not working properly.
Sherlock hasn't really heard what John said.
He's been too busy panicking.
His mind has been racing.
About what to say. What to do.....what he wants to do.
He wants to kiss John again. Run his fingers along the soft skin of his throat. Feel the vibration of his voice underneath their tips as he puts gentle pressure just there.
He wants to get to know every inch of John.
He feels himself going red again.
He cannot think about every inch of John right now.
Not with John sitting so close to him.....looking at him......smiling at him.
Running his hand through his hair........oh god.....
Sherlock can't do this.
This is too much. Too much to take in. Too many unknown variables. His mind has gone all foggy again and he doesn't seem to be able to reason his way out of it.
He wants......he's forgotten what he wants......John is so close......he can't breathe.....he might be having a panic attack.......he can't be having a panic attack......he will ruin their date.......is this even a date?........John said “just coffee”.......there still is no coffee........John's hand is on his shoulder.........why is John's hand on his shoulder?.......John has asked him a question and he hasn't heard it and he doesn't have an answer.
He doesn't have any answers to anything at the moment.
He wishes he had had time to do research before coming over to John's actual house.
How to be a boyfriend?
What to do on a date?
What to talk about on a date?
Is this even a date......
He needs to calm down......he needs coffee.......he needs....
John
John
Oh god....Sherlock is hyperventilating again.
John is really starting to get concerned now.
His heart breaks for Sherlock.
He is so clearly out of his depth. Unsure what to do. Not used to intimacy and the knowledge that someone likes you for who you are. And that it is perfectly okay to just be you.
He desperately wants to touch Sherlock again but he's afraid that, once his fingers make contact, Sherlock's tense nerves will snap and he'll end up doing more bad than good.
For a moment his hand just hovers in the air. Reaching out to Sherlock. Wanting to touch but not sure if he's allowed to.
Fuck it, he thinks and gently places his palm on Sherlock's shoulder.
It seems to calm him down just a bit.
John gives him a tentative smile.
“Hey”, he says, “it's okay....it's fine.”
At first Sherlock doesn't seem to hear him as he just blankly stares at John while his breathing gradually slows down.
Sherlock
“I'm sorry”, Sherlock says.
And he is.
Very sorry.
He knew he couldn't do this.
Be what John wants him to be.
Be a boyfriend.
He doesn't have the experience.
He doesn't have the data.
He doesn't......
His mind draws him back to that evening at home where he had just stood in front of the bathroom mirror.
Trying to find anything about his face he found even remotely appealing.
Back then he had been able to trick himself into thinking that maybe....under the right conditions......he just might be........
But now.......
With John so close.
The contrast between the both of them is stark, harsh and cruel.
John is handsome and popular and social and happy......but Sherlock........
Sherlock is strange looking, the most unpopular boy in school, has an attitude that, according to Mycroft, can sour milk and is apparently unable to engage in conversation over a cup of coffee.....
But there is no coffee.
And John might think he likes Sherlock now but give it time......in time.....everybody leaves.
“I'm sorry”, he says again.
John
John doesn't really understand why Sherlock keeps apologizing. He's done nothing wrong. Whatever is making him feel the way he's feeling now....it's all fine.
John is reminded of the evening they had spent together on the bleachers. After the game. On the field people had been talking, dancing....drinking, but Sherlock had chosen to sit alone. Way up on the bleachers.
Once again he had reminded John of a fairy prince.
Way above everyone else.
Like a star.....or moon..... shining down on the ordinary world.
And John had been lucky enough to bask in it's glow and even hold it for a while.
John had even told him so.
You're meant for bigger things
But now he's starting to realize that, maybe, that's not how Sherlock sees himself.
Maybe Sherlock steers clear of other people, not because he knows he's a cut above the rest, but because he believes everyone else to be better than him.
John's heart breaks.
How can this beautiful creature be both so insanely smart and so mesmerizingly stupid at the same time.
He vows to himself to make it his mission to make Sherlock see what he sees in him.
He gently squeezes Sherlock's shoulder until Sherlock once again looks up at him.
“You know I think you're amazing, right?” he says.
Sherlock
Sherlock doesn't know what to say.
How can John still think him amazing after the breakdown he's just had in John's house.....on John's sofa......
This was supposed to have been just coffee.
“I'm sorry”, he says again because he doesn't know what else to say.
John
I'm sorry?
Yeah, that's not really good enough.
If John can't reach Sherlock with words he'll try something else.
And he has been itching to touch Sherlock all evening anyway.
Hell.....all day even.
A look of utter resolve forms on his face and a look of utter confusion on Sherlock's but before Sherlock can say anything else John wraps him up in his arms and pulls him tightly against his chest. He keeps his breathing as calm and steady as possible in the hopes that it will help Sherlock put a halt to his own frantic breaths and the panicked flutter of his heartbeat.
For a moment Sherlock goes rigid. All his muscles tensing up. John fears he has misjudged after all....but then......
Sherlock
Sherlock relaxes.
He hadn't realized he'd been so starved for touch until John gave it to him.
Wonderful, perfect John who always knows just what to say or do.
Sherlock let's out the air trapped in his lungs in one, long, shaky breath.
John breathes with him.
His hands are on his back. Gently stroking.
It's heaven.
Sherlock thinks he probably should feel embarrassed. Letting his insecurities getting the better of him, but in this moment......he feels nothing but calm......and pride......proud that, despite everything, John is with him, will stay with him.
He feels himself coming back to earth.
To the present.
To the reality where a part of him does believe that, yes, John is his.
his
John
Somewhere the coffee maker is beeping.
John doesn't care.
He is holding Sherlock again.
And Sherlock is holding him. His long, nimble fingers have a firm grip on the back of John's shirt. As if he's using it as an anchor. To keep himself in the here and now.
John doesn't mind.
He likes the here and now.
He likes Sherlock.
He loves Sherlock.
A lot.
He wants to tell him but he also knows that what they have between them is still fragile and too much of it all at once might just break it.
So he just exhales when Sherlock does and presses a kiss to Sherlock's curls.
He loves those curls too.
Sherlock actually purrs
John smiles.
Sherlock
He can feel John's lips form a smile where they are pressed against the top of his head.
He loves John's smiles.
They're like sunshine in human form. The sight of them makes him feel warm all over and tingly and slightly dizzy.
He loves John.
But he will not tell him this.....not yet.....it's too early.......he's not even sure if he himself knows what exactly those words mean.
He's never felt this way before.
That's part of the reason why he panicked.
It's still so new....and fragile. He's afraid that if he holds it too tightly his clumsy fingers will drop it and it will break.
John is talking. He should probably concentrate and hear what he has to say.
Concentrating is hard when he's this close to John.
John.
John
“Sssssh......it's fine.......it's all fine”, he finds he keeps saying this but at the moment it's all he can think of to say.
Out loud anyway.
Sherlock
John tells him it's all fine and he believes it.
In this moment he'll most likely believe anything John tells him.
John can tell him the sun revolves around the earth and he'll just nod and smile.
John
Sherlock seems to be calming down.
Good.
Very good.
Sherlock is letting him hold him. And stroke his back. Kiss the top of his head.
Things that John has wanted to do for a very long time.
And now he can.
There's something else he wants to do. Desperately so. He feels his life might depend on it. But only if Sherlock will let him.
Sherlock
“Can I kiss you again?”,John asks.
Sherlock can't help but smile.
Silly John.
How can he still not know?
Of course.
Yes.
Always.
Laws of physics.
John Watson asks, Sherlock Holmes says “yes”.
But he finds he cannot speak at the moment. And so he just nods.
Yes, John.
Yes.
Yes.
John
He keeps his hands wrapped around Sherlock. He needs as many points of contact between them as he possibly can.
With his lips he adds another.
This time the kiss is more tender. There is less anticipation in it. They both know what to expect.
Sherlock's lips are already parted slightly and John kisses them both separately. First the top and then the bottom lip.
Sherlock exhales and John inhales their shared breath.
The moment is intimate.
Sherlock's grip tightens on the back of his shirt.
Perfect.
He kisses Sherlock again.
The corner of his mouth this time. Sherlock chases John's lips with his own.
Impatient.
John smiles.
He has time.
He wishes they had time.
He wants this to last forever.
Just them.
“What do you want?” John asks. Their lips still only a hairsbreadth away.
Sherlock
“This”, Sherlock says, “you.”
He wants to say more but he finds he can't. He hopes John will understand what he means anyway.
He wants this....and them....and everything that entails.
He wants getting to know everything about each other.
Sitting together.
Talking.
Not talking.
Holding.
Not holding.
Hands touching and lips brushing.
He wants fast days and lazy days.
Inseparable days and going insane with missing each other.
When he closes his eyes he sees it all and it's making him dizzy so he opens them again.
John is looking back at him.
Their faces close together.
Hands clasped in the back of each others shirts.
John is smiling.
“Us”, John says.
Sherlock smiles too.
John does understand.
John
Once again he brushes his lips against Sherlock's.
This time it is Sherlock who pushes his tongue past the seem of John's mouth.
Apparently he's a fast learner where kissing in concerned.
John is not complaining.
Not in the least.
This John thinks.
Us
It's only a small fraction of the words he thinks of when it comes to his relationship with Sherlock but somehow they're enough.
Yes, he thinks.
Always, and he's not sure where those words are coming from.
Maybe they're Sherlock's. Transferred to him as their tongues learn each other.
Somewhere, in the kitchen, a pot of freshly brewed coffee is going cold.
He finds he doesn't care.