Chapter Text
Sherlock made a swift recovery from his cold, and his sex life with John returned to normal over the next few weeks.
Since their relationship was still fairly new, they were in the honeymoon stage, and they couldn’t get enough of each other. They often found themselves staying in bed late into the morning, lazily making love as the sun warmed their bedroom, their quiet gasps of pleasure filling the room for hours before they were resigned to get up and make breakfast.
Now their days were more active, with John’s afternoon shift at the surgery running until half six, and Sherlock’s casework with Lestrade was keeping him busy. They always took the time to eat dinner together, and usually retired to the couch afterwards to unwind.
On this night, they were both looking forward to some relaxation time. John had spent yet another day reassuring worried parents that it was only seasonal allergies and that their children would be fine, while Sherlock had been occupied with following the trail of a jewel thief that had led him to Gatwick Airport, where he had lost the thief. He’d returned to Baker Street disappointed, but with a promise from Lestrade that he would be the first person contacted if the thief made a move.
John let out a deep sigh as he relaxed into the couch, immediately opening his arms to accept Sherlock, who clambered on after him. They adjusted into a supine position so Sherlock could bury his face in John’s chest, inhaling his scent and recognizing spices from that night’s dinner alongside the distinct smell of hospital disinfectant. Absent-mindedly John began to weave his fingers through Sherlock’s mess of curls and rubbed his scalp. He loved how unguarded Sherlock was when they were alone together, showing his softer, loving side that craved physical affection.
“Mmm…” Sherlock purred, the sound muffled by John’s t-shirt. “That feels so good.”
John remembered when Sherlock had uttered those same words that morning, a pillow under his hips as John thrust into him sleepily and unhurriedly. Stirred by memories of their morning lovemaking and the feel of Sherlock’s warm body pressed against him, John felt his cock start to fill out against the detective’s chest.
“John-” Sherlock gazed up at him. He could hear John's sighs above him as he began to kiss and breathe down John's clothed stomach, John acutely aware of each warm touch. "What do you want?"
After a long day John knew exactly what he wanted and had no trouble asking for it.
"Suck me off," John urged, gently pushing a compliant Sherlock off of him to kneel on the floor. John swung his feet around to plant them on either side of the detective's knees. Keeping a hand in Sherlock’s hair, he leaned down to press their lips together, meeting chastely before letting Sherlock go to work on his fly.
Once out, John’s cock was fully hard in a matter of moments, and John let out a sharp cry when Sherlock promptly took half of it into his mouth.
When they had first gotten together, Sherlock had been shy in his technique. Unlike John, Sherlock had never performed oral sex on a man and was somewhat apprehensive. He would take John in slowly and gently, overly concerned about shielding his teeth and avoiding his gag reflex. With some practise and encouragement, it wasn’t long before Sherlock (ever the fast learner) had mastered the art of fellatio and relished in getting his mouth around John whenever he wanted.
“Mmm…just like that, love.” John kept his eyes on Sherlock’s mouth as Sherlock took him right down to the base, applying just the right suction to make John’s toes curl into the carpet. John was mesmerized by the heart-shaped lips wrapped around his cock as they moved up and down. He felt Sherlock’s hands move up to grip his thighs on each side.
John moved his foot to press against Sherlock’s hardened cock, still restrained inside his tight trousers.
“Uhhng…mmf…” Sherlock’s moans were muffled by the cock in his mouth when he felt John’s foot press onto his arousal. He closed his eyes as he started to rut against John’s foot, ignoring the ding of his mobile on the table behind him. He increased the suction on John’s cock and slowed his pace to allow John to thrust up into his welcoming throat.
“Oh fuck, Sherlock…I-I’m gonna come…” John thrust his hips up into the wet heat of Sherlock’s mouth one, two, then three more times before his body tensed and he was coming hard, his hands clenched in Sherlock’s hair as John released his load down Sherlock’s throat. “Fuck…” he kept thrusting his hips up minutely as he rode it out, releasing his grip on his lover’s messy brown curls before relaxing, boneless, back onto the couch.
Sherlock politely waited until John had finished before pulling off gently, licking John clean and being reminded of his own unsatisfied erection by the foot still pushing at his groin. He tucked John back into his pants and trousers and stood up, undoing his own fly. He ignored the ding of his mobile once more and pushed his trousers down to his knees.
“Now you do me,” Sherlock requested impatiently. He pushed his hard cock closer to John’s face. John, still seated on the couch, was all too happy to oblige. He scooted to the edge of the cushion, and got to the perfect height to take Sherlock into his mouth. He wasted no time in swallowing him down, knowing that Sherlock was already close from half a footjob. He took in Sherlock to the base before going still and allowing the detective to thrust into John’s pliant mouth at his own pace. John reached up to take Sherlock’s soft bollocks into his hand and reached his other hand back to knead Sherlock’s arse.
“John…John…” Sherlock kept his lover’s name on repeat as he thrust into his mouth, getting closer as he rubbed the head of cock against John’s soft palate. His balls tightened in John’s hand as he approached the edge. He threaded his fingers softly into John’s short, grayish-blonde hair, not applying any pressure. His thrusts became shallower, and he came with a quiet cry. John kneaded Sherlock’s balls while he released. John kept his mouth around him until he was done trembling, Sherlock feeling weak on his legs and withdrawing to collapse alongside John on the couch.
Sherlock slouched over onto John’s chest again, soft cock still hanging from his trousers. He felt John’s arms come around to encompass him as he breathed a deeply content sigh. John nudged his mouth against Sherlock’s ear and whispered soft words of love to his partner as they relaxed against each other.
Their reprieve didn’t last for long as Sherlock’s mobile dinged for a third time on the coffee table. Unable to ignore it any longer, he reluctantly pulled himself away from John to check who it was. His eyes lit up as he read the text messages.
“It’s Lestrade. He has reason to suspect that the jewel thief I was investigating today will be making a move at the Gatwick Airport later tonight. He wants me to stake it out.” Sherlock typed out a quick reply before he was up on his feet, tucking himself back into his trousers and checking to see if he was still presentable.
“You’re going, then?”
“Yes, of course. Wouldn’t miss it. I was tailing him all day long.” Sherlock became a ball of frantic energy as he rushed around the flat to gather his things. He pulled his big coat on and reached into the large inner pockets to check on his toolkit. “Coming with me?” The corner of his mouth quirked up as he met the doctor’s weary gaze from across the room.
A tired John relented when he saw the spark in his detective’s eyes, and knew it would be worth it to go to see Sherlock’s brilliant mind at work, to feel the satisfaction of solving the case side by side, the two of them against the rest of the world. “Absolutely. Shall we get a cab?” John smiled, getting up and straightening himself out.
“You go on and hold one, I’ll just be a minute.”
“Right.” John pulled on his coat and jogged down the stairs while Sherlock examined his rolled-up toolkit.
Mycroft had given him the toolkit several years before, when Sherlock had started making money off of his detective work, and it had been a valued possession ever since. It was the perfect size to fit into his coat pocket and contained essentials like a lockpick kit, small magnifying glass, cotton swabs, a small pair of scissors, collection bags, a pen and notebook, and a small torch. He’d noticed on their last case that the torch was out of batteries and was wanting to replace them before going on a dark stakeout.
After a cursory look through desk drawers and cabinets, Sherlock had to admit that he wasn’t quite sure where their batteries were kept. Afraid of keeping John waiting and the possibility of missing the thief, Sherlock ran upstairs to John’s bedroom, the one place where he could recall seeing a spare torch one day while doing some snooping around.
Grabbing the oversized torch from John’s bedside table, he shoved it into his inner coat pocket with the rest of his supplies and left to meet John in the waiting cab.