Release Day
Enjoy this rambling of a fanfic with the most hurried and inspire-lost ending ever.
Pairing: Johnlock (Sherlock Holmes x John Watson) | Genre: Angst, fluff, explicit smut! | Word count: 2254 words | Warnings: Talk about rape, mention of suicide
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It had been the day John had been totally, completely, undeniably sure would never ever come. Sherlock had broken some laws in the name of a case, and this time neither Mycroft nor Lestrade had been able to save him. Six months in prison. Four for his minor crimes and two for mouthing off at his hearings. What a dumbass, John had thought. So brilliant, and yet, a complete dumbass.
It had been the longest six months in his life though; A life without Sherlock was hard to keep going. John had not even bothered to get out of bed the days he was off from the clinic. His off days were absolute agony. No cases, no taking care of Sherlock... God, he would have killed even for a good fight with Sherlock!
But here he now was, at the gates of the prison, finally seeing Sherlock walking out in his sharp suit he had been wearing when arrested. Six months had not only been long, because John was bored, but because it had given him time to actually think about things. He wasn't constantly going after Sherlock, he was just... By himself. And in those six months he had realized things.
Sherlock looked around and soon spotted John, his face lighting up a little. Clearly he had not expected John to be there when he would finally be released. The detective strode over to his doctor, who grabbed him in a tight hug. It felt good. John felt Sherlock's dark, smooth curls and breathed in his fresh scent. Sherlock had showered and shaved, and judging by the short strands of hair on his shoulders, he had gotten a hair cut as well. He looked exactly the same as the day Lestrade had cuffed him. John was sure half the department had volunteered as the arresting officer, but due to their history and Lestrade's undeniable fondess for Sherlock, Greg had handled the arresting himself.
They sat in silence, both in their chairs, as they were meant to. John had been studying Sherlock the entire evening, not being able to find any symptoms of having suffered a trauma in Sherlock. After another thirty minutes, Sherlock grew annoyed. "What is it, John?" His voice was sharp, as he lowered his book. "Huh? Oh, I... Nothing", John responded, trying to seem genuine, but obviously the detective was having none of it. The world's most successful detective in the history of mankind wouldn't fall for any of John's lies, ever, and the doctor should have been aware of it. Sherlock's stare was drilling holes through John's skull. "You seemed to survive jail well", John finally told him. For a fraction of a second Sherlock seemed confused, before his lips parted and he looked down, realizing, what John meant. "I was. Repeatedly", he admitted silently, biting his teeth together. John could see Sherlock's facial muscles tense up. "Oh my god, Sherlock... I'm so sorry."
The silence built up again. John was deep in his thoughts while Sherlock was still reading his book. One could practically hear the dust settling in the room. "How did you...", John abruptly broke the silence, not daring to finish his sentence. Not that he needed to, Sherlock had known the sentence since John uttered the first word. "My mind palace, John", he replied, eyes focused on the pages, but he stopped reading. "I went to my mind palace. Thought of some unsolved cases and... And you."
John's head snapped up and he looked at Sherlock like a deer in the headlights. Had Sherlock just said that he had gotten through rape by thinking about him? John's head was reeling. "It's okay", the detective continued. John wanted to tell Sherlock to stop talking, but this was probably Sherlock's way of conciously or subconciously tell him, that he needed to talk to someone about it, so John kept his mouth shut. "I have never enjoyed sex. It's dull, a boring need. Like eating and sleeping. Absolutely meaningless."
The good doctor felt sorry for Sherlock. He had never experienced a good shag? He had felt like rape was just another time he was having bad sex? John got up from his chair, took a few determined steps towards Sherlock, and sat down in his lap, knees on both sides of Sherlock. "Sherlock, I am going to kiss you. If you don't like it, tell me to stop", he told the detective, and proceeded to bring his lips down on Sherlock's, cupping his face with his rough hands. John started slow and gentle, but got more passionate, when Sherlock's lips parted. Their tongues tangoed, as John pressed closer to Sherlock's body. The detective wrapped his long arms around John, as his book fell to the floor with a thud.
John's breath was ragged, his pulse off the charts and he could almost feel his dilated pupils. Sherlock wasn't in a much better condition; His breath was hot and heavy on John's skin and his eyes had gone dark. It only fueled John's fire. "All good?" he felt the need to ask. This was for once about Sherlock. John wanted him to feel loved and understand just how amazing sex could be. Much to his relief, Sherlock nodded, "it feels... good, John." The doctor lost himself in another kiss, before realizing, that Sherlock might not be comfortable in the chair. "Want to move to the bedroom?" "I think that could be a good idea", Sherlock let out a little laugh, that made John smile wide.
Sherlock always did look good in purple, but John wasn't gonna dwell over that as he started to unbutton said color shirt. He had already discarded his jumper and Sherlock's jacket on the floor. The detective looked absolutely delicious laying on his back on the bed, looking up at John with lustful eyes. Never mind John "Three Continents" Watson, this was a real achievement - Sherlock Holmes, not having a single good shag in his life, lusting for the doctor.
John let out a moan, as Sherlock removed his trousers and pants, and grabbed John's erect cock. "Oh god... You have... You have lube?" John was out of breath, more than he should have been at this point. He could've cum all over Sherlock's toned stomach just by looking at the detective underneath him. Sherlock was so fucking gorgeous, his skin milky white and bones almost pressing through. John trailed one of Sherlock's collar bones through his skin, before reaching for the lube Sherlock promised would be in the top drawer of the nightstand.
John squeezed some lube on his hand, warmed it up and slowly started working Sherlock's cock, drawing the most sinful moan out of the detective's mouth. God, John was going to be wanking to that moan for ages. "Condoms?" "I- I wasn't prepared for that, but you won't be needing one. It's okay, we're both clean", Sherlock struggled to talk, arching his back slightly at the pleasant feeling John was causing.
Being a doctor was a privilege, to be able to help so many people, but every once in a while John found it to be an advantage in his personal life; This was one of those times. John slicked a finger and after massaging around Sherlock's hole for a minute, he pushed it in. He could hear Sherlock hiss at the feeling, so he gave him a moment to adjust, before starting to look for his prostate. The walnut-sized gland was easy to find with said medical training, and John didn't hesitate to use every single trick in his book on it. Before he even knew it, Sherlock was rocking himself onto John's finger, moaning and wanting more.
John drew his finger out, earning a displeased whimper, but soon pushed back in, this time two fingers, and headed back to Sherlock's prostate. John felt a burning need to pull out his fingers and fuck Sherlock utterly senseless. This is about Sherlock, he reminded himself. This is about giving him for once in his life a good experience that's all about him. All about someone loving and wanting to please him. The thought was almost as good as getting to fuck Sherlock, so he rolled with it. This seemed to please Sherlock the most, so John would keep it up at any cost.
"Good god, John!" Sherlock's body was tensing up and he felt a heat building in his stomach, pushing him to worm against John's fingers even more desperately. John knew Sherlock was chasing his climax, so he added just a little more pressure in massaging, and wrapped his other hand around Sherlock's twitching cock. A few strokes did it, and Sherlock came undone with a cry.
God, he looked so beautiful, absolutely wrecked with pleasure. Judging from the lube, Sherlock did please himself every once in a while, but John was sure he had never experienced something this good. Sherlock's ivory skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat, riddled with hormones that made an intoxicating scent. His dark hair was messy and his plump lips parted, as he breathed heavily after John had guided him through his orgasm. The doctor completely ignored his own touch-starved erection, and just kneeled between Sherlock's long legs and watched the beautiful view in front of him. Sherlock opened finally his eyes as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards. "That was... good. I apologize for my lack of a better word."
John let Sherlock just enjoy his bliss and wrapped a hand around his own cock, when he felt Sherlock gently grab his wrist. "Just... Wait just a second, alright? You deserve some reward of your own", Sherlock promised, apparently feeling like he owed John to let him fuck him. "Oh no, Sherlock, this is... This is not something you keep score of", John told him. "This has nothing to do with me. This was all about you, Sherlock. About you having one good shag even if it would be the end of me", he explained, feeling a little sting in his heart. He wanted to be more than one good shag, he wanted to be Sherlock's everything the way Sherlock was his everything. He wanted to stop sleeping upstairs and move into Sherlock's room, to make gentle love in the morning sunlight and to cure Sherlock's overthinking with a good pounding, when he was getting lost in a difficult case.
"I want to." John felt his heart stop for a second, as he looked into Sherlock's silvery blue eyes. Sherlock actually wanted to have sex with John. It couldn't have all been the effect of one good orgasm, could it? "But you just climaxed", John protested. "I recover fast, doctor", Sherlock smirked at him. John shook his head, slightly amused at Sherlock's reply. "You sure?" he confirmed, and got an eager nod in response.
It was better than John could have ever imagined. After prepping Sherlock properly and lubing himself generously, John aligned himself with Sherlock, and pushed in. A soft cry left his lips as he slowly pushed all the way in, letting Sherlock adjust and find a comfortable position. Oh my god, Sherlock was so tight and hot. John was already moaning like a freight train when he slowly pulled away, almost to the end, and pushed back in. He started building up a pace and tried to angle his thrusts so he brushed Sherlock's prostate every single time. And good god, when Sherlock started to beg for John to absolutely wreck him... "Harder, John, please!" He gave Sherlock everything he had, until he reached his release, crying out in ecstacy.
Sherlock helped himself into his second climax while John was panting and half out of it. Apparently it had been a while since he had gotten laid properly. The detective held his doctor close and closed his eyes, just enjoying the moment. He felt thorougly spent, but thoroughly loved. It hadn't been a coincidence, that he had thought about John while getting raped in prison; John was his everything. John was the reason Sherlock made it ouf of prison alive. While Sherlock was the master at manipulating and managing his feelings, being in prison, where his tall and thin frame - and especially that cute bottom and curly hair of his - had been very appreciated, could have gotten the best of him. Even if he hadn't killed himself, he wouldn't have been the same man that went in. Sure, he wasn't the same man in this scenario either, but with John by his side, he would be able to recover.
"They said it was the only thing this pretty mouth of mine was good for", Sherlock quietly said later that evening, laying in bed with John. They had showered and had dinner, before crawling back into Sherlock's bed together. But as he saw the horror on John's face, he realized, that he shouldn't have said that. "I'm sorry, John, that was very insensitive of me-" "No, Sherlock. If you need to talk about it, talk about it. I'm here, I'll listen, day or night. Don't you once think you have to keep this inside." John was almost defensive, sounding nearly... Angry? Had Sherlock angered him? "You are the world's most brilliant, most successful detective. Your mouth tells the rest of us what's going through your head, and it's bloody brillint. The most beautiful thing I have ever witnessed", the doctor kept talking, looking at Sherlock with a serious look. "Don't ever think they were right." "Thank you, John."
