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Sherlock, what the hell did you do with my bloody clothes?!

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You: John stepped out of the shower, his skin wet and glistening. His hand reached out for the towel and he picked it up, drying himself off. The cold made him shiver, and he moved to grab the fabric of his clothes – but clenched open air. John looked at where his clothes had been before he went in the shower, but the spot was occupied by empty space. A growl of frustration left his lips. Sherlock must have done this. For what reason, John did not know. Last week, the brunette had decided to burn three of his jumpers, and the following day he had ruined John’s bed sheets. It would seem normal (for Sherlock, that is), but every time something happened – the detective always suggested going around naked or sleeping in his bed. John had no idea what the hell Sherlock was up to. John opened the bathroom door a crack, and called out, “Sherlock, what the hell did you do with my clothes?! You do realize I need them when I come out of the shower, right?!”

Stranger: The detective's spine straightened at the tone almost faltering in a chuckle. Good, so it worked. "Really? I would have never figured; I don't. So, that means neither do you," Sherlock teased with a mischievous smirk falling evident over his features. This was more than amusing for him, really. Lounging onto the sofa, he rolled onto his side in case the blonde had decided to leave the wash-room. If so, he'd get to see it front hand. "So, you gonna leave? And I had thought you Military men had seemed indifferent to being undressed in front of other men. Thought it was casual, for you."

You: John rolled his eyes, and let out a groan. He was living with a complete madman. Something was really up with him. John tightened the towel around his waist and padded out to the bathroom, to the living area. Where he could see Sherlock flopped down on the couch carelessly. "I'm not in the army anymore, am I? Are you going to tell me what you did with my clothes? Or did you burn them again?" John huffed, crossing his arms over his tanned chest. The thought of going around naked in front of another man didn't particularly bother him, just as Sherlock said - but going around naked in front of you observant flatmate was another thing. Just imagining Sherlock's cyan eyes watching him without any clothes sent a prickling up his back that he couldn't really identify. He shivered a little, cold, from the water evaporating from his skin. John tried to keep his glare on the detective, but failed miserably, and just ended up looking at him normally.

Stranger: Sherlock caught the glare before his eyes slowly traced down the blonde's torso, noting each individual detail. Had softened a small smidgen after the war but hardly; still tanned, and it suited John. No wonder he went out on so many dates that had fallen successful. yet, were ruined by no other than Sherlock himself. Keeping his eyes glued to the form before him, Sherlock found it'd be best to look away. John would notice something, if he had actually partaken in listening to anything the brunette had informed him with over crime scenes. How to observe, that is. Fixing his eyes on the ground, his face had taken prey to blankness and his voice had drawn monotonously. "Right, you may not be in the Military any more, but you never loose the 'used to' feeling. And, hm, nah. Can't say I'll tell you. That would be incredibly tedious, if you ask me. Why would I /dare/ tell you where they are?" The slim man teased, edging more comfortably just keeping his preceptors fixed elsewhere

You: John rolled his eyes again. "And knowing my luck I'll go upstairs and my whole wardrobe will be gone. You owe me clothes, Mr.Holmes." John said, letting out a slight huff and heading into the kitchen. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this, and Sherlock wasn't going to give in - so he might as well continue on as best he could. Though, only being in a towel was bloody chilly, and John couldn't help but shiver a few times. Some warm tea would definitely help. He wasn't een going to ask if Sherlock wanted ny, because John already knew he would probably demand for some anyways. He flipped on the kettle and got the water boiling before he headed out into the living area again, sitting in his chair. "Yeah, I suppose you are right about that. Maybe in a little bit, then." he said, smirking the tiniest bit and then reached for his phone on the coffe table. As he skimmed through the messages, John couldn't help but notice Sherlock had stopped looking at him ealier. It was strange. When Sherlock observes, he was never afraid of staring

You: *.

You: ((Ahh, excuse any typos ;-;))

Stranger: Sherlock just merely shook his head at that much. Telling John? Unlikely story. Keeping his eyes fixed away they slowly raised to see the blonde seated in his usual arm-chair; at this angle, he could generally see right up the towel. Keeping his jaw only slightly clenched, Sherlock managed to flicker his eyes away after a few falling moments, and forced them just up a bit more, but subtly back /down/. He truthfully couldn't help staring, at this point It was really an interest, if anything; an interest of John. Studying John, living with John, anything about the man, had collected into the detective's mind. It was useful at times, and at others, tiresome "Hm, don't count on getting any clothes; I don't owe you anything," he murmured snidely.

Stranger: [you're absolutely fine, love]

You: ((Haha, thanks c:. BRB for one second, I've just got to go eat!))

Stranger: [ okay x]

You: "Figures." John said with a slight amused tone. He had noticed those observing eyes, but didn't say a word. It was a little strange that his flatmate was practically checking him out (In normal standards). To Sherlock, on the other hand, the staring was merely to observe, as John knew. He heard the kettle and pushed up out of his chair, heading into the kitchen to finish up with the tea. He carried the two mugs back out into room and set Sherlock's on the coffee table in front of him, and then moved to sit again. "I suppose there aren't any cases, since you have been lying there for the past..." he checked the time on his phone and continued, " 6 hours." John shrugged a little bit and took a sip of his tea. "And, you forgot the fact that when you come out of the shower, you hold a great big sheet around yourself. I've got merely a towel. Not exactly fair, is it?" He cocked an eyebrow up and took another drink of the hot tea, that was luckily warming him up some.

Stranger: Sherlock Holmes, a fair man? Hardly. "And you'd call me fair; how dull," the brunette teased, arching his torso a bit and sitting up to receive the tea. Looked just how he liked it; not with much milk, but not bad at all. Sipping from the rim, his eyes followed to the doctor's form. "Oh, obviously. So many cases, actually. Can't even keep /up/," his voice drew monotonously but with a slight sarcastic meaning behind each syllable. Worked out decently. How could he perfect this little experiment? He could send the clothes-,...down-town, to a bakery; make John go through the trouble of walking down-town in just that, but John would easily find a way around it. That was just an option that could turn out in a hilarious manner. Sifting back once his tea was finished in a matter of moments, his head rested onto the leather cushion with comfort, exerting a yawn transcending his lips.

You: "Puzzles, again, how entertaining." John rolled his eyes. he knew Sherlock better than people thought, and sometimes, John could see just the things that were going on in that exceptional mind of his. Most of the time though, John had no idea what he was up to. "I'm guessing that I am a new experiment." John said, finishing off his tea. He pursed his lips and thought it over. What experiment, he did not know. Clearly it was something rather complex, something probably that John wouldn't understand. He thought it be best that Sherlock have all the good evidence he needed. So, that meant taking off the towel. And god knows what might happen then. John could just imagine the brunette wanting him to walk halfway across town in just a towel to receive his clothes. It most definitely wouldn't happen. He was willing, but not /that/ willing. "I have no bloody idea how this is supposed to help, but giving in is the only option I have at the moment, so," he paused and stood, unhooking the towel from his hip and peeling it off, laying it carelessly over the arm of his chair, and sitting back down again.

Stranger: Sherlock's eyes saw the towel discard from the doctor's waist, his eyes suddenly following right where they shouldn't have been. It was nothing complex, nothing at all. A mere test of getting to know John in every sense possible; and at this point, it was /seeing/ him. Clearing his throat, Sherlock almost fell baffled, just as he was with Irene that once. How much longer would he stare? Forcing his sights to the side, his brows arched and his face flushed an unfamiliar scarlet. This had never happened to the great detective. If any attempt of experiment, it would be on John's willingness. How casual he felt about being that way, /right/ in front of Sherlock. "Well-,.." Sherlock's voice paused, trying to keep any thoughts in. He'd probably sound senseless, so it was useless to speak.

You: John gulped, his heart pounding in his chest. His own cheeks were a bit flushed as well. God, he was right. Those blue-green eyes raking up his body sent shivers down John's spine. It was a feeling he had never felt before, and was a little freaked out by it. It was not disgust, nor was he uncomfortable. It was hardly anything he had felt when a woman looked at him naked. He couldn't really put a finger on it. Though, John felt completely self-conscience as the detective looked him over. John was nothing of a 'good-looker', really. Not like some, and nothing like back in the day. He stopped his thoughts there. Why in the hell would he even want to be good looking to Sherlock in the first place? He shouldn't really care what Sherlock thought, but somehow,he did. He shivered a tiny bit, cold from the air, and leaned his head back. "I don't really see how you can do this. It feels way too open. To each her own, I suppose." John admitted, blatantly, and closed his eyes.

Stranger: Once the half-lidded eyes slowly closed, the detective's eyes fixed back and took in each detail. God, it wasn't bad. He was well fit from his past days, and he was a smidgen above average from usual research on what most male's appeared as. Good, really. /Fantastic/, even. Swallowing thickly, Sherlock felt his mind tracing along different thoughts sending subtle shivers down his spine, and with that pressure built into his abdomen forcing him to turn, facing the backside of the couch. God, not this. Not /in front of John/. Hopefully, his eyes stayed closed, and if not, hopefully he didn't notice. Sherlock had interest in his work, of course, but over the year's time, John had /become/ Sherlock's work.

Stranger: [ you get my reply? ]

You: John kept his eyes shut, trying to keep his mind blank. But no, he really couldn't. Even if his eyes were closed, he could feel Sherlock's eyes on him. He heard the slight shifting on the couch, and wondered which way the other had turned. Peeking open an eye, he noticed Sherlock facing the back of the couch. Strange. John thought the detective wanted to observe him. Maybe he was already finished? John opened both eyes and furrowed his eyebrows a little bit. He composed himself though, and smiled smugly. "Should I keep the towel off, still, or put it back on?" he asked, lifting a hand to run it through his wet, short cut. It tousled it more than it had been before, and he leaned his head back again, closing his eyes. He had a feeling something more besides observation was going on. John was trying to think like Sherlock. The sudden changes in everything, and now the staring. How he had looked away, and was now facing the couch. Why would he ave turned away, besides being done looking. Sherlock was never done looking, because there was always something he could watch and observe. John flicked his eyes open suddenly. "Wait. Something's different. I have no idea what, and I have a feeling you aren't going to tell me. But I have a feeling that it has something to do with why you are facing the couch."

You: ((Yes, sorry!))

Stranger: The last words that had left the doctor's lips had sent the detective into flushing a deeper tint, the rose coloured essence slipping into his cheeks; /God, don't look, John/ was all Sherlock could think./ Don't look, and keep clueless; don't use what I taught you,/ as he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, keeping his eyes fixed away but his mind seized to stop wandering, thinking, contemplating what he had seen and applying it to other thoughts that roamed throughout his mind on other days. God, why did he always have to think? With that, he felt himself hardening at the thought and just kept curled tighter, hoping it'd hide off easier if he had done as much. This was pointless, now. He didn't expect it to happen, and yet it did.

You: John blinked a few times, and noticed the shifting. He should probably lay off. John was getting a bit too overbearing, perhaps. He swallowed thickly and pondered what he should do next. He was in a spot of choosing between being an utter tease, and heading upstairs so Sherlock could figure whatever he needed to out. John was completely clueless about the state of his flatmate, and couldn't see any flush of his cheeks. John stood then, and grabbed their empty mugs, heading into the kitchen to place them in the sink. He headed back to his chair and grabbed his towel. "Well, I suppose I'll leave you to whatever you were up to, then. I'll be upstairs, if you need me." he shrugged a bit and started to head towards the door. John paused though, and looked over his shoulder. From this angle he could see the redness on Sherlock's cheeks, and uncomfortable look on his face. Just to be a dick, John winked quickly and chuckled, turning around and heading up to his room.

Stranger: Noting the following footsteps, Sherlock slowly turned away from the backsie of the couch and caught the chuckling from the top of the stairs, arching his brows at an angle. Was this an entire backfire? Probably. At least he'd hhave something in the back of his mind in any cases of thought. Slowly sitting up, he'd find it most generative to take care of what was forming instead of leaving it as it was. God, the chuckling. What a snot. Shaking his head, he headed for the washroom and shut the door lightly behind him before undoing his belt, zip, and edging his trousers down to work at what he had; keeping quiet was most likely something to hold to. Lacing his fingers around the heated erection, he wanted to remove it as quickly as possible. Sherlock began stroking it lightly before edging into a careful pumping whilst clenching his jaw a bit to keep his breathing from being too loud, uneven, and juts a mild bit steady.

You: John closed the door to his room and flopped down on his bed, letting out an exasperated sigh. Sherlock was a piece of work, that was for sure. He let out a groan, and looked down upon himself. God, Sherlock had looked him over more than once. And somehow, he wasn't repelled at all. What was it about the detective that was just so intriguing? John didn't know at the moment. Closing his eyes, his mind wandered. And it wandered to things it probably shouldn't have - because in the next few minutes - John had heat rushing to his groin. Flicking open his eyes, he let out a small curse, noting the fact that he had an erection. He couldn't really help it, for his mind had somehow wandered to the thought of seeing Sherlock naked. And some other explicit things he would never share with anyone. John figured Sherlock must be downstairs thinking, and there was no way in hell John would wait the erection out.So, he took himself up in his hand and began. He knew he had to be quiet, so he clamped down on his lip, and pictured things in his mind that he knew would help. He was getting quite into it, when he suddenly heard an almost barely audible moan come from downstairs. He furrowed his eyebrows and paused his hand movements. What the hell was Sherlock up to? John didn't know, but whatever moan he heard was quite deep and delicious, and he kept going. John was quite close to his release when he suddenly, unthinking, let out a large moan. Great. He could probably bet Sherlock had heard that.

Stranger: Sherlock heard the noise emit from upstairs and had assumed it was no other than John. Sliding a bit down the wall, he tugged his pants down just a bit to give himself more room before his head placed back in pleasure. Curls toussled, his heart was thudding in his chest and his muscles were tensed to a near climax; yet, there it was. Stomach faltering and flopping, he released a small moan from his lips and climaxed some onto his chest, and some onto the floor; even a trace on his jawline. Cleaning up would be reasonable, but the brunette's legs fell lax and almost to jelly as he slid to the floor. Clearing his throat, he attempted to contain himself and settle the breathing, but as much as difficult. Sherlock was hardly common to this, to begin with. Allowing his head to droop forward, the taller man tugged his pants up, reaching for his trousers to tug up from the waist-line noting he'd have to in case of John entering downstairs, or coming anywhere near by.

You: John moaned at his release, and pumped through it. Unfortunately, he knew he'd have quite a big mess to clean up. When he opened his eyes again, John reached for the tissues and wiped himself clean. John didn't normally get off in his room, he normally did it in the shower. Gulping, John let out a hot breath and ran a hand through his partially wet hair. What had he heard downstairs, then? Why on Earth would the detective be moaning? John froze for a moment. Wait. Sherlock had looked him over, and turned to face the couch. His cheeks had been flushed, and he looked uncomfortable. And just a minute ago, John had heard a moan. It all came crashing onto him. /Did Sherlock Holmes get hard because of me?/. John gasped a little and sat up, ignoring the jelly like feeling in his legs. He scrambled to tie the towel around his waist, and he got up, padding downstairs. "Sherlock?" he called out, wondering where he had gone to. The man wasn't on the couch anymore. "We really need to talk. I think, now." he said, his voice a tone softer. It was true, it /had/ to be. That prickling on the back of his spine, it was feelings. He cared for his flatmate, and that was the only explanation he had for all this. Sherlock most feel it too, even if he didn't realize it. And John, he had no idea what to do about this sudden information he had discovered.

Stranger: The voice echoing throughout the ground floor of the flat had sent Sherlock into a bit of a shiver, hurrying his trousers buttoned and his zip up. Remaining silent, maybe if he didn't make a sound, John wouldn't hear him. Maybe John didn't even hear the moan-, but those words said something. Clearing his throat, he reached for the tissues to wipe off what was evident, and once it was cleaned, he backed against the door in utter silence fixing his eyes to the floor. Talk about this? Talk about nothing. Sherlock didn't care for discussing feelings, or even really recognizing them- especially not something as sentimental as this.

You: John found his way to the bathroom, and stood on the other side of the door. "Look, I know you don't like discussing this sort of thing. But I think we need to talk about it." He moved closer and leaned against the wall beside the door. "Sherlock, you know, instead of stealing my clothes, you could have just /asked/ to see me naked. I mean, I might have been shocked at first, but I probably would've complied anyways." he said softly, chuckling a bit. He couldn't help but smile at the thought. Living with the detective sure was quite the experience. "But, if you want to forget about this, then we can." he said, shrugging a bit. He didn't really want to, but he was willing to if the brunette wanted it. John lowered his voice a bit again, and took a risk in what he said next. "I heard you, and surprisingly, you sounded quite good."

Stranger: The detective's face flushed immensely at the last statement. Good? Seems like something he would have liked to hear, but how did he approach this? How did this continue? "I don't understand things like this-,.." Sherlock's voice drew a bit small and subtle. With that, he slowly pulled himself up to his feet weakly and gripped the doorknob, only opening it a crack to see the other right aside the door. "What do we have to /talk/ about? It happened,-...things like that happen." and in Sherlock's mind, things like this were probably entirely casual.

You: John didn't really care about much at the moment, he decided it was best to just go on a whim. Because they weren't going to get anywhere if he didn't at least try. "You don't have to get it." John said simply, kicking the door open and pulling Sherlock forwards by his shirt. He reached up on his toes, and suddenly pushed their lips together. John's heart pounded. he really had no idea what he was doing, or why he was kissing the other man. It was a whim. But, he noted that it felt amazingly good, and he started to move his lips slowly. "We don't have to talk...about anything..yet." John whispered, and then continued moving his lips slowly with the other's. John didn't know whether or not Sherlock would push him away, or hate him. But all he could do was wait and see.

Stranger: Sherlock felt his torso immediatelly tugged forward and within a snap, their lips had met. God, why did he have to be inexperienced? Clearing his throat, Sherlock tipped his head to the side to match the kiss more evenly and allowed his eyes to flutter shut; with follwing, his arm laced around the small of John's back. What next? Keeping him to his chest, Sherlock's kisses were almost retreated or subtle. It was all he could follow, and soon enough, he could mirror John's actions to assist further.

You: This was good. Very good. Sherlock might be new to this, but he was a quick learner. And John was very glad that he had not pulled away. Johns hands left Sherlock's collar and he slid them to tangle in the man's curls, keeping his lips upon his own. John hummed a little into the kiss, moving his lips a little faster. Sherlock was getting used to this, and John would take it slow for him. To be quite honest, John thought the slick feeling of their lips moving together was one of the best things he had ever experienced. But soon, John needed a good breath - so he pulled back a few inches, inhaling. "Didn't think your experiment would turn out in such a way, did you?" he whispered, voice teasing, and he chuckled, pressed another quick kiss to Sherlock's lips.

Stranger: After their lips separated, Sherlock took a sharp inhale and allowed his half-lidded eyes to meet the murky ones before him. John had the certain look to him, a hungry, loving one. Sherlock loved that, really. Never had he been more so attracted to someone, but John was the exception. Holding the blonde just an inch tighter, Sherlock leaned in and rested his forehead down onto the other's with a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're so,-...yeah, I didn't think it'd go this far-, but it's sure helpful," he answered honestly, with a reluctant kiss savoured to the other's lips, pushing himself a bit faster with a part of his lips.

You: John chuckled a little, and ran his tongue along Sherlock's plump bottom lip in a teasing manor. He took the opportunity of parted lips to slip a timid tongue inside of Sherlock's mouth, exploring the other gently. It was a good feeling, really. When John pulled back, and made sure to keep their lips inches apart, he spoke again. "So, did you like it, then?" John asked quietly, looking into his beautiful eyes. "I have to say, Sherlock Holmes, you are quite the charmer." chuckling again, John cupped his face with a hand, and smiled softly. Even if this all was for an experiment, John was just bloody glad something good had come out of it. He hadn't known about this spike in attraction towards the other. John suddenly flushed red in the cheeks when he realized he was still naked with a towel around his waist.

Stranger: Sherlock was too overwhelmed in the moment to even notice that much, not even the feeling of heated flesh under his fingertips. "I did, yes-,..quite a bit, actually." his voice dropped to a murmur, getting small chills and shivers tracing along his spine as his face carefully warm under the lightly touch to his cheek. Taking option, the brunette leaned in for another kiss and started going a bit more roughly with each meeting, allowing his teeth to gently close over the doctor's lower lip giving it a tentive suck. Humming into the action, The pale eyes turned forward to view the other with a lustful gleam. "I really like this,- actually, a lot," he prodded, feeling their forms meet chest to chest.

You: John let out a barely audible moan, and pushed against Sherlock tighter. He liked this, a lot, as well. He was very glad Sherlock did too. It was new, for the both of them. Sure, John had experience in kissing, but he had never fallen for another male before this. And Sherlock, he had never done such things before. "Good. Maybe I should accidentally drop my towel, then?" John quirked an eyebrow and chuckled, pressing his lips flush against the others and starting to kiss his with that rough passion yet again. John's hands went for his curls again, as he liked tangling his fingers in them. He tugged a little bit, to match their passionate kissing.

Stranger: Sherlock knew that'd most likely trigger him again, but he wouldn't argue against it. Now, John was there to assist it if anything dared to happen. Grinding his waist a bit against the other, his grip tightened and one hand travelled up the doctor's pack to smooth his fingers through the short cut that was John's hair. Smooth, seemingly undamaged. He was lucky to have straight hair, really. Sherlock managed to massage his tongue lovingly against the other's keeping his tone a bit hushed, and responded in between kisses. "Hm, I wouldn't mind it-," his voice almost paused at the end of the low monotonous words.

You: John smirked a bit, and he slid a hand down to unhook the towel. It dropped from his wait with a small 'thud', and John kicked it away. John kept their lips moving in sync, tongues brushing and sending shivers along John's spine. John knew this would probably lead to something a little more heated, and he supposed he really didn't mind. It was good, very good. He hummed a bit, and tugged again on the man's hair. Separating their lips, John went for his neck - kissing down his jaw and moving his lips to the other's pale skin. He pressed kisses to the expanse, and gently nipped the skin, only to run his tongue along the spot. He continued his ministrations on Sherlock's skin as he spoke. "Oops. must have slipped out of my hands. Suppose I have no reason to cover up, then?" his voice was teasing, and he moved his lips to behind Sherlock's ear, kissing the spot gently.

Stranger: John was aiming to arouse him, and that was obvious. Trying to refrain in only small attempts, the blonde had worked with all the right places. Sherlock's neck was one of the most sensitive places to him, newly found. Gripping a bit loosely at John's shoulder, his stomach knotted in pleasure and his eyes clamped shut. Forcing them back open, he found the other's undressed groin pressed to his own, feeling the outline of it in such a depicted manner. /Fuck./ The detective's heart began thudding a bit in his chest, and his pulse had sped up with dilated pupils under those closed lids. Slowly opening them, he peered down to see what he had envisioned the first time; how perfect-. Catching his breath in his throat, Sherlock carded his slender fingers through the blonde hair before pressing a chaste kiss to his temple, feeling their body-heat contrast and soon-enough combine.

You: He gently moved Sherlock forwards and pushed him up against the wall, moving his lips to the others ear. "Should I stop, or would you like me to continue?" he asked quietly, unsure. This feeling was perfect, it really was. Sherlock was aroused, a sight John had never seen before in his life. Sure, he had been weird around Irene Adler, and John had guessed that he had feelings for the Woman. But nothing like this. It was an interesting sight, and John felt the need to do a little bit of investigating, himself. John noticed the sensitivity of Sherlock's neck and smiled against his skin, then sliding his lips along his jaw to Sherlock's mouth again. He kissed him for a few seconds and then pulled back a bit. He glanced down at their bodies, him not wearing any clothes and pressed flush against a man who was. It was clearly evident that Sherlock could feel the outline of his body, because John could feel the outline of his. John would wait for his instruction if he was uncomfortable, but until then John's hands found Sherlock's buttons and he started to remove the other's clothing. They didn't have go all the way today, but John wanted to feel the skin pressed together.

Stranger: Was Sherlock uncomfortable? Of course not. Hell, he was entirely correct of the assumption that attraction was a weakness, but he wasn't even minding it at this point. He was almost blinded by it. Never had he had someone cause his mind to pull a blank. "No-, Keep going," he insisted. The cool air of the flat slowly brushed against his chest, feeling it meet what was once warm; and with this, Sherlock leaned in for another kiss soothing it along the other's lips, pressing at least five different ones in a loving manner. His lips were /wonderful/. John even tasted magnificent, and the feeling was sensational yet was one that the brunette most certainly wasn't used to nor could he find the proper words to describe each touch. Heat filing lower, the blood seemed to rush a bit quicker and he actually admired the feeling of being shoved to the wall. They could go a lot further, and he /wanted/ John to do anything he could to allow Sherlock to become familiar with it. Sherlock wanted to become just as experienced, at some point, as John was.

You: John pushed the clothing away, and pushed their bodies together. He let out a moan, pleasure soaring in him. Every inch of the two were touching, but somehow, it wasn't enough. John pushed him tighter against the wall, grinding their hips together. Their lips met in feverish passion, all teeth and tongue. It felt so lovely, John really didn't want to stop. He wondered if it was a bad idea to go further, but then again, it seemed like both of them would want to repeat such pleasurable actions. Kissing a woman was nothing compared to this. John had never felt so attracted to someone in his entire life. He knew, Sherlock was technically 'meant to be'. John was a little afraid that Sherlock might try to blow this off tomorrow, but John was going to do all he could not to let that happen. They were both aroused, John could tell. He slid one hand out of Sherlock's curls and down his chest - his calloused fingers stopping just above Sherlock's half hard member. He wasn't sure if Sherlock wanted this, but if he wanted to learn, this was the only way he was going to be able to. "Okay?" John just needed to make sure.

Stranger: There was not even a centimetre of space between the two, and the wall even. Nodding in response to the hand tracing lower and lower, Sherlock gave the 'Okay' that it was entirely allowed. Why did Sherlock refrain to begin with? Why did he never admit to anything in the past? There was probable fear in relationships and or giving himself to another, taken he saw it as one of the biggest disadvantages but now that he was experiencing it first hand, he enjoyed it. He wanted John to take him, for whom and what Sherlock had to offer. The blood had rushed at the thought and Sherlock felt his breathing hitching and huffing through his nostrils, awaiting John to carry on with his following actions. He'd never deny this, and after, he'd make sure to mirror and assist the blonde in every way he could.

You: "Good. Pay attention." he whispered against the other's lips, chuckling a bit. His hand moved down and he took Sherlock up. The warmth on his hand, oh how pleasing it was. This was new to him, yes, but he had received enough blow jobs to know how to give one. Slowly, John started to move his hand. He could feel the heat, and the slight throbbing beneath his touch. He paid attention as well, to what would make the brunette happy. It was slightly shocking to know that he was being allowed access to this gorgeous body - and allowed to make him moan and mewl. It was good, definitely good. John's fingers slid up and down his shaft, pumping in small movements at first. Was Sherlock going to let John take him? That would be an honor, really. And that was exceptionally new to John. he had never had sex with a man before. but John couldn't even call it that, at the moment. The term making love suited it better.

Stranger: Sherlock's eyes followed John's every move, only sending him further into pleasure to get to observe and imagine every inch of what was happening. John was good at this, taken Sherlock was already aware of his lack of working with men but this most certainly was something John knew how to do. Maybe from his-own past experience, or from watching some kind of pornography? Probably. With a nod, the detective slowly allowed his head to droop forward, his eyes falling half-lidded, and his muscles tensing and un-tensing at the sight before him. Once his thumb had met the underside near the Fenulum and around the veins that rarely lined the muscle, Sherlock's breath hitched in pleasure, keeping himself firmly placed to the wall.

You: ((brb again, sorry, love!))

Stranger: [it's rather fine! : ) ]

You: John smiled softly, noting the change in Sherlock's breathing when his thumb swiped across the area. Taking a little bit of a risk, John moved his thumb to his foreskin, rubbing it over the tip. He did this a couple times, satisfied by the reaction he got, and then started to pump his shaft again. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the man's temple, and got an idea. "Do you trust me?" he asked softly, slowly sinking down a bit. John had never done this either, but he figured that it was going to feel fantastic for both of them. Sliding down to his knees, John splayed one hand out on his stomach and then the other still held his prick. He looked up at him, but figured what he was doing was alright, so he moved in. He carefully took the tip up on his mouth, testing out what it was like. The warmth against his lips was lovely, and John slid more in, humming against the hardness.

Stranger: "I do-," Sherlock answered before he felt the vibrations from the hum sifting through his hardened length. It had caused his arms to branch out and his hands to grip onto the blonde's shoulders to give him something to squeeze. This was /also/ Sherlock's first blowjob, and as far as he was concerned, oral treatment was something he had favoured already especially with John being the giver. Head resting back against the wall, his curls fell into his eyes and they clamped shut with pleasure only wanting John to go further. "F-further," he whispered, noting it'd only feel better with the quicker and deeper the doctor took the erection. Sherlock could feel himself throbbing already.

You: John complied willingly, and took more up in his mouth. He could feel the throbbing in his mouth, and John closed his eyes for a split second to memorize this wonderful moment. When he opened his eyes again, he glanced up at Sherlock's pleasured frame. John took as much as he could in, trying not to gag, and hollowed his cheeks. He started to slide off in a slow fashion, and he came off with a 'pop'. That was only for a few short seconds, because he moved in again and took Sherlock up, sucking and running his tongue along the slit. God, he had never done this before, but tasting the other was brilliant. John moved a hand to grip Sherlock's thigh, and he started to bob his head.

Stranger: Sherlock's breathing pattern changed to a light pant and at that he couldn't contain himself. Precome was already pumping from the tip as his climax was starting to build up; would John swallow? He'd warn the other before he became close. Gripping tighter, he jived his hips a bit moreso into the other's mouth, feeling the salivated tongue brush up against every sensitive partial mentioned, and it only drove his moans to actually fall audible, and heard. He even dropped John's name a few times to give him more of a motive.

You: John was fully gone into that deep pit of feelings now. Sherlock, he cared for him like no one else. Hearing his name come from those plump lips was fantastic, and those moans just drove him further. John gently scraped his teeth along the underside, and pulled back just so Sherlock's tip was in his mouth. His hand drifted up to take the base, and he rubbed at the same time he sucked - knowing how it would affect Sherlock. He knew the outcome as well, and he wasn't planning on pulling off until Sherlock was all finished. His own erection throbbed against his thigh, but he knew he had to wait. John hummed, and he felt the throbbing intensify.

Stranger: A few subtle whines fell from the brunette's lips as he had finally reached the stage of closeness, his cock twitching almost intently in the others mouth with throbbing that was one give-away signal. "I-I'm close, John; If you want to pull away-," his words halted feeling them difficult to manage. Two orgasms in one day sounded brilliant, and there was probably more to come at some point. Gripping tighter to the framed shoulder, he didn't see the other tug or pull away, but merely speed up the pace

You: /Come on, Sherlock. Stop fighting it./ His mind yelled, but he didn't say a word. He kept his fast movement, not daring to pull away. His hand slid from Sherlock's stomach and he started to grip every single inch of the man's groin, groping and feeling the warmth beneath his fingers. He waited, for the detective to let go. It seemed as if he was doing a good job holding it in, and making John's touches last longer. John was definitely sure that this was going to happen again, and Sherlock wouldn't be just getting a one time thing. Sherlock needed one more thing, he could tell, so John slid his tongue tortuously slow across Sherlock's slit, and waited for him to let go.

Stranger: The speed of John's tongue drove Sherlock mad and with that he couldn't hold it in anymore. Eyes clamping shut and legs falling weak at the touch, the detective had released /into/ John's mouth with a flustered moan that was louder and more broken than any of the others that had occurred before, only seeing a few dabs evident on his lips. It was even more-so difficult to keep himself standing, but he continued to thrust a few more times until he had finished himself off. Holding himself up on the other's shoulder, he felt his lower back sliding down the wall.

You: John swallowed everything, and enjoyed every bit of it. Christ, Sherlock even /tasted/ good. John pulled off slowly, and licked his lips. Sherlock was probably pretty weak, and it was evident. John moved forwards and held Sherlock in his arms, pulling him back up into a standing position. "I think, I think we need to move. Come on." he whispered, pulling the weak man to his bed. He set Sherlock down and crawled atop him, leaning his lips down to his ear. "Do you want me to take you today? Or shall we wait, if you are too tired?" he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's neck and pushed his erection against Sherlock's thigh, indicating that either way, John needed to be taken care of as well.

Stranger: John's bed was also somewhere he frankly enjoyed being. It was soft, caressing, consoling, and comforting in every sense of the mind. At the last question,his pale eyes fixed onto the other trying to relax his form, but he nodded. "You can-," Sherlock permitted the other, lacing his arms lightly around the blonde's torso nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck, pressing a few kisses to the vulnerable flesh and giving the pulse a small suck. John was worth it, and Sherlock wanted to experience the man in every way possible, even if he were only minorly worn. He could do it, and he was ready

You: "Only if you are sure, love." John whispered, "Do you have any lube?" he asked, suddenly, as he remembered. He really didn't want to do this without any, since it was both their first time. John had some upstairs, but he really didn't want to have to go all the way up there if he didn't have to. John couldn't help but slide a hand down Sherlock's body, caressing him gently. He slid it down and started to rub the insides of his thigh's gently. John was throbbing, and he really needed to get on with this, and quickly. John slipped his fingers in his mouth, and pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips, sliding his hand down and in between Sherlock's legs. "It might hurt at first, if you want me to stop, just tell me." he whispered, and continued to kiss Sherlock, as he slid a single finger inside of him.

Stranger: Sherlock didn't have lubrication, obviously not. "I don't have lube-, but, do you?" Sherlock puzzled, feeling his body settle and tense around the finger and with that he decided laying his head back would be best. Resting it onto the comforting pillow would suit him well. Eyes fixed on John, they slowly slid shut with the followed kissing, and the brunette pressed back with equal pressure to distract his mind. He wanted it, god how he did, but as John's first warning had escaped his lips, he had to keep himself content before it got further. He'd grow used to it and pleading for it soon enough, as is.

You: John groaned a bit, and slipped his finger out slowly. "Give me twenty seconds to run upstairs and back. Don't move, love." John whispered, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's lips and then hopping off the bed. He practically ran up the steps, almost tripping a few times. He snatched the bottle from his dresser drawer, and raced back downstairs. When he padded back in the room, he breathed heavy. Nonetheless, he smiled and crawled back on top the tall man. "Alright. Better. Bear with me." he slicked up a couple fingers and returned to his prep, kissing him softly. It was only one finger at first, but John payed attention. He was new to this, but he was pretty sure he could tell when Sherlock needed a second finger. John felt it, and slipped in the second one carefully, scissoring a bit and moving around. He could feel every muscle spasm and twitch from the other, and it was bloody fantastic.

Stranger: Sherlock awaited the other's return and once he did, the fingers moved slowly, than a bit more wide once he had reached two fingers. To keep himself from flinching, Sherlock gripped onto the bed sheets and closed his eyes tightly, blocking out some of it. The further he went, the more pleasurable it was and shockingly enough, taken he was aroused in this, it hardly pained taking it anally. Spreading his legs just a smidgen wider to give the other room, his lower back arched and his breathing hitched from time to time with a wince, feeling himself prepare for what was John's, soon enough.

Stranger: [Im like laying on my face because i was tired of sitting so sorry if my detail isn't face c: ]

You: ((Thats alright, love. This is brilliant xD))

You: John kissed down his jaw and back, angling his fingers a bit, to hit the man's prostate a few times. The warmth around his finger was like nothing he'd ever felt, and he could envision it around his aching hard on. It only made the throbbing worse, and he scissored a bit wider. "Mmm, almost there." he mumbled, tugging a bit on Sherlock's bottom lip. He drove up and hit Sherlock's prostate once more, and then slipped his fingers out. "Ready?" he asked, as he reached for the lube. He slicked himself up, groaning at the touch, and then spread Sherlock's legs wider. He gave him an awaiting glance, just so that he knew this was okay. John didn't want to take Sherlock if he wasn't ready. But god, he was looking forwards to this.

Stranger: With each placement to the prostate it drove the brunette mad, causing pleasure to surge through his form, and he knew it was probably unlikely to cause yet another erection, but if so,- it'd be a stretch. Nodding to the other, Sherlock braced himself nervously to take all of John. Face flushed, he clenched his jaw but attempted to soothe his body for the other. He wanted it, god he did. "Just be easy at first-," the detective warned in a soothingly deep tone, keeping his legs spread and his knees slightly bent for leverage.

You: John nodded, and used one hand to cup his cheek lovingly. He slowly inched forwards, and gently pushed inside. Sherlock was tight, and John went as slow as he could, and as gentle as he could. The warmth on his hardened member was like sweet, delicious friction that he absolutely loved. Panting softly, John slowly pushed in all the way and sat there for a bit. Sherlock needed to get used to this. John pressed his lips upon Sherlock's and started to kiss him - to try and erase some of the pain. Meanwhile, John slowly slid back and pushed in. He did it as carefully and as slowly as he could, making sure that he didn't hurt Sherlock in any way. He waited for the detectives voice, and waited for him to usher John on.

Stranger: The first slow thrust cued a broken whine from the detective's lips, body moving with the action as he took comfort to the gentle kissing taking place to his lips. With that, he managed to lace his arms tightly around John's torso and nested his face into his neck, only squeezing tighter as John pushed on; after a while, Sherlock signaled the okay to carry on a bit more, and within a few minutes, Sherlock would have found himself used to it. Breath hitching, panting, and shaken, Sherlock pressed minuscule kisses to the blonde's shoulder, holding him carefully.

You: John pressed a sweet kiss to Sherlock's temple and began to move in a faster pace. He kept it careful and slow, rolling his hips so he could push into the other. It felt terrific, and John really never wanted it to end. Soon, Sherlock would be used to the feeling. And John could just imagine the cries that might come from the tall, pale man. Just at the though, John let out a small, barely audible moan, and kept up his slow pace. He kissed the man's temple and let his lips linger. He let out a small breath of curse words, as he throbbed inside of the other.

Stranger: [ you there?]

You: ((Yeah, must not have sent again. Stupid omegle -,-))

Stranger: Whimpering, Sherlock gripped to the man even tighter than before and allowed the friction to edge against his length for sparing pleasure. Once a minute had passed or so, his mind was /gone/. Blank entirely-, for the first time in ages. Grunting, he plead to the other "Faster-," in a slightly weak, but hungry voice. John was good at what he was doing, better than Sherlock could have imagined and maybe this is why the blonde had always had so many dates; and thankfully, Sherlock interrupted every-single-one.

You: John sped up his pace, rolling his hips and driving into Sherlock faster. The muscles tightened and relaxed around him, and John let out a soft moan. "God, you feel great." John breathed out, continuing. He didn't stop, and soon, he started to move even quicker. John let himself be held tightly, loving the friction between their bodies. This was way better than any other sex he had had in his life. Of course it was, because it was /Sherlock/. Everything was better with him. John concluded he would never go on a date with a woman again. He really could have everything he needed with his mad flatmate. Even if the man was cold sometimes, John knew it wouldn't really change his feelings in any way.

Stranger: Sherlock's head slowly fell back to the pillow and his hands to the duvet, gripping tightly with his fingers kneading into the fabric. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-,.." he murmured as he couldn't help but swear in pleasure; the pain and pleasure had evened into something wonderful, and Sherlock could feel it enticing throughout his body. Chills and shivers sent filing down his spine and all of his muscles tightening with each movement, meaning even John would get a taste of it, too. Grunting, Sherlock allowed his lower jaw to drop a bit and anything audible fell after each thrust. God, John was perfect.

You: John grunted, speeding up his thrusts into the other. He pressed a soft kiss to those partially opened lips, and panted against them when he pulled back. It sounded awfully good to hear Sherlock moan and swear - all because John was shagging him. Definitely a new to their relationship that John never wanted to stop. He increased the pace, hips rutting against Sherlock quickly as he moved inside him. John was groaning, and panting, and he knew in a few more minutes he would be able to feel the orgasm pool in his belly. Which, he would try to hold off for as long as he could.

Stranger: The detective's toes curled as his eyes clamped shut heavily, nails digging into the fabric. God, this was driving him up a wall. With seldom swears and even more-so commonly muttered whines and whimpers, Sherlock widened his leg-spread past shoulder-length apart and could feel John's cock piercing his prostate with almost each individual thrust, and that drove him further; Sherlock was merely blank. Could hardly speak, think, or act, and it felt /marvellous/ to finally fix into this kind of state.

You: John held him tightly then, never stopping the thrusts. Sherlock looked so lovely and beautiful beneath him. The way his eyes clamped shut, and the slight wrinkle in his forehead as his face contorted in pleasure.John peppered soft kisses to his lips and to his cheeks, panting as he kept going. He could feel the tightening in his abdomen a few minutes later, and John let out a bit of a cry. He clamped his teeth down on his lip to silence himself, and fought the growing urge to spill inside of the other. He wanted this to last as long as it could, and he wanted Sherlock to be pleasured as long as he could stand it. John pushed in to him and bit his lip harder every time he slipped back and thrusted in. He could feel all of the muscle spasms, and twitches, and the noises coming from the other. It was driving him mad, and soon he knew he wasn't going to be able to stand it any longer. "Fuck. I-I'm close." he groaned out, pressing another kiss to Sherlock's lips.

Stranger: Sherlock could only imagine the feeling from here of the other spilling fluidly into him, causing all sorts of spasms and wonderful feelings triggering him incredibly. Breaths heaving and panting from Sherlock's lips, he nodded. He wanted John to finish, and god, he wanted this to happen another time possibly another day. "God-, you're so good- harder,£ Sherlock requested with the whines and moans transcending his pursed lips with every thrust. It was more than delightful and he could hardly withstand much more of it.

Stranger: "**

You: John crashed their lips together and smashed their hips together over and over, as he felt himself finally let go. He continued to thrust through his release, spilling inside of the other man until he was fully spent. When he finished, John collapsed onto Sherlock's chest - sweaty and breathless. He swallowed the thick lump in his throat, which was raw from the cries during his climax. As jelly-like as he felt, John tipped his head up and pressed a sweet kiss to Sherlock's lips. "God, we've /got/ to do that again sometime." John breathed out, hugging the man closely and lying on his chest. John pulled out of him slowly, and buried his face into the crook of Sherlock's neck.

Stranger: Sherlock felt his torso arch once the other had spilled into him and with time, it slowly leaked out. "We do-,..we really do," Sherlock was just about breathless as he nuzzled into the blonde's touch, holding him tightly, and closely. All he wanted to do was /rest/, and possibly drink tea later. As for walking, that may be difficult for the next few days after the euphoria wore off. Sherlock knew he'd be facing some kind of pain but that's what the good of living with a doctor was. Could prescribe some kind of pain killers.

You: John smiled and hummed a bit, snuggling into the other further. "Would it ruin the moment if I possibly said that I cared for you? And I mean more than friends?" John whispered quietly, absentmindedly running a hand up and down Sherlock's side. The pale body beneath him was warm, and John pressed a small kiss to his skin. Really, the thought of doing this again was entirely gratifying. No more women, just Sherlock. They could resume to what they were before, but also have that wonderful essence to their relationship. John chuckled quietly at his thoughts. "You know, you had better liked the results you got for your experiment. I think it was entirely gratifying. And I even still doubt that you will tell me where you put my clothes."

Stranger: Sherlock chucked a bit, and decided it was best to just admit he sent them to the Yard. Of course he enjoyed teasing around, but this had given him the answer regardless. Caressing into warmth, Sherlock felt a small smile tug at the corners of his lips. God, how he loved when John kissed him, anywhere, even. "Well, I have feelings, shockingly, too. All for you, John Watson," he murmured to sweeten the moment before admitting where the clothing was hidden. "Also, your clothes are at The Yard. Have fun fetching them," he teased, pressing a small kiss to the other's cheek.

You: John cracked a smile and rolled onto his back, the detective on top him. "You are a complete bastard, you know that?" he started laughing and hugged Sherlock tightly against his chest. All the way at the bloody Yard. Of course. John was most definitely not going to try and go there, not now. He laughed even harder. "God, please do not tell me that you put them in Greg's office. Either he will kill you, and keep them away from me. You know how much he likes to tease me. Fuck." John couldn't help but laugh and he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "Good, good. That cold heart of yours is finally getting warmed. Even with a bit of cruel humor." he teased, rolling his eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock rested his light body down onto the other's chest, allowing his face to take residence to John's shoulder and with that a few kisses peppered the skin. "I'm actually fully aware, yes; but, actually, no. Anderson's office. He'll lose it," Sherlock teased with a small smirk. "Hell, he might be even more pissed taken I messed his office to bits, and well, he may think /you/ did it with your clothing there, but-------" Sherlock couldn't help but laugh at the situation, holding onto John lovingly with a smirk evident on his face.

You: "Bloody hell. You are a madman, Mr.Sherlock Holmes. And yet, somehow, I've fallen for you." John rolled his eyes and started laughing, hugging Sherlock close to him. "I think you owe me a date for this one, idiot." John pointed out, rolling his eyes and pressing a soft kiss to Sherlock's temple. "Though, I do have to admit that putting my clothes in Anderson's office was quite the idea. The prick deserved a little mess, I'd say. I just hope that Mycroft went and did the favor of installing cameras in his office, so we can see his reaction. It will be bloody hilarious." John pointed out, grinning widely.

Stranger: Sherlock smirked madly at that. God, he got John. How perfect. "Ah, well if he sees the videos, he'll see /me/ doing it. Rather not have that, now would we?" Sherlock questioned before pressing a small kiss to the blonde's neck, wrapping his arms tentively around the other's waist. He loved being in John's arms, loved holding John in hisown, and loved staying close to the man. For once, he was okay with being this close to someone.

You: John laughed and sighed a little bit, contently. "Love, would you like some tea? I can go quickly make some, and you won't have to move an inch." he whispered, looking into those lovely cyan orbs. John didn't know how he had gone so long without being in this deep of a relationship with the other man. It was amazing. Amazing to be held, amazing to hold him as well. John definitely wanted to spend the rest of his life with this man. "I suppose you are right. Wouldn't want that. Can I at least get Lestrade to bring my clothes back tomorrow, once Anderson had found the room?"

Stranger: "I would like some tea, please, yes; and, I'd say so. Just get him to drop it off. Until then, you can borrow /my/ clothes. Might not fit too well, though," Sherlock reminded the other just sinking into the other's touch before sliding off of his chest, and resting onto the comforting fit of the bed. It was lucious, soft, and fit his form in a loving touch. He could probably only rest for the next half day or so.

You: John chuckled and slipped out of the bed, heading into the kitchen to make some tea. He smiled, the memories getting stored inside of his brain. Yes, he most definitely had the most wonderful experience. And it wasn't going to end either. John got the kettle ready and waited for it to boil, not able to wipe the stupid grin off his lips. He was so utterly happy, and probably would be for a while. The kettle finished and John prepared the tea, taking the two mugs into the room and sitting on the edge of the bed. Sherlock looked to be sleeping lightly and John chuckled quietly. He set the cup down and quickly nudged him awake, handing him his cuppa. "Drink, and then you can sleep all you'd like, love."

Stranger: Sherlock's weary eyes opened to see the cup before him, nodding before edging over the bed and arching his torso so he wouldn'tchoke. With that, he drank down the warming cuppa and it eased his senses, causing him to relax and soothe. "You're a doctor; how long is this supposed to be sore for?" he questioned just arching a single brow before downing the rest of the cup, and seating it along the bed-side table without trouble.

You: John took a drink and pursed his lips. "It'll probably only last a day or two, I'm sure. After the first time it shouldn't hurt as bad, or so I'm told." John shrugged a bit and finished off his tea. He set the mug aside and slipped underneath the covers, ushering Sherlock under as well. He smiled softly. "But, as Doctors orders, you've got to stay in bed for the rest of the day, got it? No leaving unless it is completely important." he said, wrapping his arms around the man's torso. One hand slid to rub at his lower back softly, knowing it must be pretty sore there. "You can take me, next time, if you'd like." John whispered.

Stranger: Sherlock understood, but hardly liked what he was hearing. Having hisown tendencies, he liked moving around, going places, cases, everything of the sort. "But what if I'm needed on a case? What if I need to use the washroom? What if I need to go across town-,..to meet Mycroft?" Sherlock tossed out multiple excuses before nodding, pressing a kiss to the other's lips. "We may try; We'll see," he purred smoothly, holding the other loosely in his arms.

You: "I suppose those things are important. I'm not going to keep you bedridden and uncomfortable. Trust me." he kept rubbing Sherlock's back. "Does that make it feel a little better? This is the only part I don't like, causing you pain. I know it goes away, but it's hardly a good feeling to know that you caused it." John admitted, sighing softly. His other hand found Sherlock's cheek and he cupped it lightly, smiling. "Though, if your phone rings I might snap at whoever called you." he pointed out, grinning smugly and pressing a chaste kiss to the other's lips.

Stranger: Sherlock slowly and carefully rolled onto his back, nestling his cheek into the pillow. "It helps entirely, yes, and why so? I may hate taking calls, but you're fully allowed if it's Mycroft. Don't tell him about this, by the way-, He'll tease me for ages, then again, I swear he's probably got a thing for Lestrade," Sherlock's voice fell to a murmur followed by a chaste chuckle, closing his eyes comfortably and spreading to ease the pain. "You're fine, though. At least I enjoyed it,.."

You: "They'll ruin the moment." John muttered, chuckling. "Are you kidding, did you see the way they acted around each other at our last case. Even I could tell something's going on between them." John grinned and chuckled, rolling his eyes. "He's got nothing to tease you about anyways. Besides, he says one word and I'll exploit his little secret about Greg." John assured, laughing lightly. Sherlock's bed was rather comfortable, and John wondered if he'd be spending more time in here now. He flicked his eyes around the room and smirked a bit. "God, I dear hope Mrs.Hudson was not home."

Stranger: The thought just occured to him. God, no. "I really hope she wasn't-, then again, she already assumes there's something between us. Everyone had already assumed there was, really. Rather embarrassing, either way," Sherlock's flesh transitioned a subtle scarlet just forcing the thoughts far back and away. That was generally the act of it, but most likely she was out visiting /someone/. Doing /something/.

Stranger: [ sorry for my late replies. unu im kind of down, so. ]

You: ((Be right back, again, I apologize ;-; Thats okay love!))

Stranger: [its ok x ]

You: John chuckled. "It's alright, I'm sure she was eitehr out

You: ((oops!))

You: John chuckled. "It's alright. I'm sure she was either out or if she was home, she probably won't mention it." he shrugged a bit and suddenly he heard a phone ringing on the bedside table. John let out a groan, and couldn't help but start laughing. "I've got to bet that is either Lestrade or your brother. Go ahead and answer it, if you'd like, love." John said, rolling onto his stomach. He rested his head on his arms and looked over at the detective, grinning softly.

Stranger: Sherlock observed the phone for a few soft moments before raising it to his ear, answering the call with the side of the screen. "Hello?" he answered with the arch of his brows, and turned out, it /was/ Lestrade. "Oh, I have /no/ idea about his office. Re-," he paused, voice being cut off before Lestrade mentioned tapes. "Right, fine. It was brilliant though, wasn't it?" Sherlock reminded, almost proud of his bad-deed. It was well due, really.

You: John chuckled and grabbed the phone from Sherlock's hands. "Lestrade, get me my clothes back, would you? Asshole over here stole them. And I don't want any chirps." he said, rolling his eyes, and handing the phone back to Sherlock with a small smirk. He gave him a little nudge and started laughing quietly. He really didn't mean any of his names for the other, it was just fun to tease him a little. John snuggled back into the covers and kept the smug grin on his face.

Stranger: Sherlock heard a few more subtle scoldings and after, he hung up the mobile. "Ah, well,- heh. I'll just do somethign new the next time he drops the clothes off. Maybe send them to the bakery for pick up," Sherlock teased before settling down into the covers aside the other, resting his forehead against the doctor's. He was so /warm/, and loved the heat radiating from his flatmate.

You: John chuckled and rolled his eyes, shuffling a little closer. "Just wonderful. I'm going to be naked for the rest of my life, dear lord." John shook his head in amusement and then rested their foreheads together again, lying a hand upon Sherlock's cheek. "Get some rest, you need it. If anyone calls, I'll wake you up. Unless of course it's more than a six." he assured, sending him a small wink and a teasing smile.

Stranger: "But, if it's a case- I can take it!" Sherlock protested although he knew physically it'd be tough to handle and he probably /wouldn't/ be able to hadnle it. Rolling his eyes, he settled into John's touch and allowed the blanket to rest just above his nose, with his eyes falling half lidded in comfort.

You: John chuckled and cuddled Sherlock into him. "I'm just teasing. I'll wake you up if someone calls, and you can decided whether or not you'd like to go or not, alright? Now, get some sleep." He pressed a soft, tender kiss to Sherlock's forehead and cuddled him close. The warmth of their bodies was nice,and John closed his eyes as well, falling into a light sleep. Luckily he didn't sleep very deeply, so he would be able to hear the phone if he needed. John smiled as he rested, his mind replaying the previous events. It was definitely going to be one of the best days he had ever had, that's for sure. Besides, who else would think that this actually happened between them? John Watson had shagged the lovely Sherlock Holmes.

Stranger: Sherlock resisted sleep for a few moments before the sleep grasped his ankles, pulling him into a lightly drawn slumber; the warmth emitted around his form and his body lulled in the other's arms. Damn John for being so comfortable and heated. That's the one thing that pushes his brain to lack oxygen and to drift to sleep. Nuzzling into his side, a sleepless arm drifted up and laced around the small of the doctor's back.

You: ((Ahh, I think that's a good place to end this. I've got to be heading off. This was absolutely fantastic, though, and you are an amazing Sherlock <3))

Stranger: [ okay x you too!!! ]

You: ((Do you have a Tumblr, perhaps? c:))

Stranger: [ yes! mishacoffins ]

You: ((Ahh, love, we've met before, I believe c: I'm already following you :P ))

Stranger: [ we have? who might you be. :p ]

You: ((My user is guitarriffsandcolouredpicks xD))

You: (('uppose you don't mind if I post this, then? c:))

Stranger: [ omg we did meet. i don't mind, no. ]

You: ((Haha, awesome. I hope you have a lovely day/night! See you on Tumblr c:))

Stranger: [ you too c: message me sometime.~ ]

You: ((Sure, :D Until next time!))

You have disconnected.

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