Word Count: 1764
John and Mary returned from their
honeymoon. They had two weeks of bliss on an island in the South Pacific.
Since their
wedding day, Sherlock ignored John’s phone calls. He didn’t even come to wish
them bon voyage on the airport as their other friends did.
He kissed his
new bride on the cheek, put his hand on her pregnant belly and smiled. “Keep
the little guy safe and don’t exhaust yourself while I’m going to check on
Sherlock.”
Mary chuckled.
“How do you now it’s a little guy? It might as well be a little girl.”
He shrugged and
let go of her baby bump. “Figure of speech, love.”
She accompanied
him to the door and remained standing in the doorway, waving him goodbye after
he got into a taxi.
“221B Baker
Street,” he instructed the cabby and gazed out the window as the taxi cruised
through the streets of London. How would Sherlock react seeing him again?
Half an hour
later, John stood in front of the apartment building he called home for three
years. He smiled as he glanced at the doorknocker slanting to the right and
shook his head before opening the door.
Gunshots fired.
His eyes
enlarged.
He charged
upstairs and barged through the door, finding Sherlock with a gun in his hand,
shooting at the wall. “What the hell are you doing,” he yelled.
Sherlock
stopped firing and turned around. “I’m bored,” he answered, turned back and
fired another shot at the wall.
John stormed up
to him, reaching for the gun. “Give me that,” he said and grabbed it out of his
hand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I told you.
I’m bored.” He flopped sideways onto the couch, put his hand together under his
chin as if he wanted to pray and shut his eyes.
He put the gun
on top of the mantelpiece and glanced at his ex. “Why are you still in your
pyjamas? It’s past noon already.”
Sherlock opened
his eyes and glared at him. “I don’t have any cases to solve.” He jumped up and
paced towards John. “Aren’t you supposed to be on honeymoon?”
“It was only
two weeks and it ended today.”
He snorted,
walked past John to the kitchen and put the kettle on.
“Aren’t you
glad to see me, Sherlock?”
He ignored the
question.
“I missed you
at the airport two weeks ago. Everyone was there to say goodbye except you.”
Sherlock kept
quiet while making tea.
John sighed
after he seated on his favourite chair. “How are you holding up?”
Sherlock
brought the tea into the living room. He placed a cup on the side table next to
John before he sat down in the chair opposite him.
“Listen, you
have to speak to me some time or the other.”
He took a sip
of tea and put the cup down. “You broke my heart, John.”
He narrowed his
eyes. “Is that why you left the wedding early?”
Sherlock
grimaced. “Why did you have to marry her? We were in love, John. Didn’t it mean
anything to you?”
He moved to the
edge of the chair, placing his hand on Sherlock’s knee. “Don’t go there,
please.”
“You left me
for a woman. I can never forget you for that.”
John jumped out
of the chair, his face red with anger. “You faked your own death and let me mourn
for two years believing you were dead,” he yelled.
Sherlock jumped
up as well. “I tried to explain, but you didn’t want to listen. I did it to
protect you.”
“Like a fool I
visited your grave every day. I cried myself to sleep every night.” He turned
around, facing the wall. “I stood at your grave and I asked for a miracle. I
asked you not to be dead.”
Sherlock moved
closer to him and whispered. “I know. I was there.”
John flung
around. “You saw me in pain, mourning, and you couldn’t tell me you were
alive.”
“I was working
under cover. I had to keep it a secret, no one knew except Mycroft and…”
John’s eyes
enlarged. “Mycroft knew? Who else knew?”
“Molly and a
few others.”
His face turned
crimson. “How many, Sherlock?”
“My street
network.”
He scoffed at
him. “Well, that’s a few hundred. Did your parents –” John threw his hands in
the air and snorted. “Of course, that’s why they weren’t at the funeral.”
Sherlock moved
closer until he stood against him. “I’m sorry. How many times do you want me to
apologize?”
John moved
backwards trying to increase the distance between them, but Sherlock kept on
stepping forward until John stood with his back against the wall.
They gazed into
each other’s eyes.
“I missed you,
John. I miss waking up in your arms.”
“Stop it. Just
stop it.” He put his hands on Sherlock’s chest, trying to push him away. “We’re
not a couple anymore. Will you please step aside?”
He reached for
John’s buttocks, grabbed hold of it and pulled him up against his crotch while caressing
his behind.
“Stop groping
my arse,” he cried out, jerking the hand off his rear end.
Sherlock placed
his hands around John’s head, bent over and kissed him on the lips.
He turned his
head away. “We can’t. I’m married now.”
“I know you
want to. I can feel it.”
John turned his
head, facing him again. He started panting as Sherlock pushed up against him,
arousing him.
He arched a
brow when he felt the bulge in John’s trousers growing bigger. “Oh, I can feel
you want me.”
John’s lips
parted. His chest heaved up and down as his breathing speeded up.
“Does Mary get
this reaction from you?”
He stuck the
tip of his tongue out to wet his dry lips.
“You shouldn’t
do that. You know what it does to me, John.”
“I know,” he
muttered, breathing heavily. “Oh god, you’re confusing me.”
Sherlock’s
mouth came down on his lips, forcing them apart, exploring the inside of his
mouth with his tongue. He grasped his butt again and drew John’s crotch up
against his.
John pulled
away, placed his hands firmly on Sherlock’s chest and shoved him backwards.
Crinkles formed
between his eyes as he narrowed them in question. “What are you doing?”
“This is what
you want, isn’t it?” He continued pushing Sherlock backward until he ended up
on the couch, and fell on top of him.
Their lips met
again, their hands all over each other.
He pulled
Sherlock’s pyjama pants down and gasped aloud as he gazed at his erection. With
difficulty, he tore his staring eyes away to unzip his denim jeans. John waited
until he turned over onto his stomach, before he placed both hands under Sherlock’s
hips and tugged his rear end upwards before entering him.
He gasped aloud
when John thrust his erected cock into him, repeatedly, each time harder than
before. “Oh my god,” he cried out of enjoyment. “I’ve waited a long time for
this.”
John reached
for Sherlock’s crotch and placed his hand around his erection, stroking it.
They moaned
with pleasure and found it difficult to keep their voices down.
When they built
up to a climax, they were unable to uphold the whispering moans any longer.
Noises of satisfaction
echoed through the flat as the two men exploded, reaching an orgasm.
John withdrew
before he fell on top of Sherlock to catch his breath.
“Oh John, I
miss this,” he mumbled out of breath. “I miss you. I miss us.”
“I know,” he
whispered and ruffled the curly black hair with his fingers. He sighed before
he got up. He pulled the zipper of his jeans up and slapped Sherlock’s tight
butt. “Better put on your pants before Missis Hudson barges through that door.
We forgot to lock it.”
Sherlock
glanced at his watch after he stood up and snorted. “That will be anytime
soon.” He pulled his pyjama pants up, brushed his fingers through his hair and ruffled
them a bit while taking a seat on the couch.
Both men gasped
aloud when the door opened and Missis Hudson made her appearance.
“Coo-coo, I
brought you some tea and biscuits,” she announced and entered uninvited.
The two men glanced
at each other and burst out with laughter.
“Did I say
something wrong?” she asked while stepping into the kitchen to put the tray on
the table.
Sherlock
stopped laughing. “No Missis Hudson, you’re impeccable and so is your timing,”
he said and chuckled again when he glanced at John.
She shrugged
and returned to the living room. Her eyes enlarged when she noticed the bullet
holes in the wall. “What have you done to my wall, Sherlock?”
“The wall had
it coming,” he replied bluntly.
She sighed
before turning around to face John. “How was the honeymoon, dear?”
He nodded. “The
island was wonderful, beautiful actually. Great weather for the time we’ve been
there.”
“How’s the new
bride and mum to be?”
Sherlock’s face
dulled. “Thank you for the tea and biscuits, Missis Hudson. Close the door on
your way out.”
“Always a
pleasure, dear,” she said smiling, before she turned around and headed for the
door. She paused in the doorway and turned back. “Sherlock, are you going to
get a new flat mate now that –”
“Missis
Hudson,” he hollered, cutting her off midsentence.
She flung
around, hurried out of the flat and trotted down the stairs.
John shut the door
and glanced at him. “She’s just worried about you, all alone here in the flat,
Sherlock.”
“Alone is what
I have. Alone protects me.” He jumped off the couch and headed over to the
kitchen.
John shook his
head while following him. He pulled up a chair and sat down at the table. “We
can’t do this again.”
Sherlock put
the teapot down. “What?” he asked while putting a cup of tea in front of John.
His eyes
enlarged. “That what happened over there,” he said, pointing to the couch.
“Oh that.” He
furrowed his brows. “Why not?”
He snorted after
reciting Sherlock’s last words. “Because that’s cheating, I’m cheating on my
wife after only two weeks of marriage.”
“Will I still
see you or are you going to abandon me?”
John grabbed
one of the biscuits and dunked it in the tea. “Do you want me to help you
solving cases again?”
Sherlock smiled
as he gazed into John’s eyes. “Of course, what will I do without my blogger?”
*The
End*
Disclaimer
This story is based on the works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's, Sherlock Holmes, as well as on the works of Mark Gatiss' and Steven Moffat's, Sherlock - BBC.
All characters, with the exception of a few names, are based on Sherlock BBC.
This story is pure fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
This short story may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.
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