Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
John grinned when he felt Sherlock finally relax, and he pulled back again as far as Sherlock’s gentle grip would allow, licking his lips to clean them of jam. He was pretty sure he’d associate the taste of strawberry jam with Sherlock from now on, not that he minded. Hell, it might have just gotten bumped up over raspberry to be his favorite flavor. He dipped his head down again, to press a rather firm kiss to Sherlock’s sticky lips again. This was working out much better than he had expected.
A shuddering breath tumbled from his lips after the second kiss. His brain had completely stalled. Sherlock Holmes, for once in his life, was in over his head - and he liked it. The flavor of strawberries and John bloomed on his tongue as he licked his lips. It wasn’t bad. It was actually more addicting than his nicotine. He gulped then, Adam’s apple bobbing, as he looked at John. He had no idea what to do - he was relying on John’s cues now.
John screwed the cap back onto the jam, and set it aside, leaning over to put it on the floor. He sat back up and placed his last jam coated finger in front of the detective’s cupid-bow lips. “Eat up” He ordered, before tilting his head to the side, trailing light kisses down Sherlock’s petite neck.
The detective happily obliged. The slick muscle lapped at the sticky substance. He tried not to disturb the angle of his own neck, enjoying the trail of kisses along his neck. Ever so carefully, his lips enveloped the digit he had been licking, sucking at the appendage gently.
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
“You’re not being a very good sport about this” John sighed, taking another scoop of jam from the jar. “It was your idea in the first place” He spread some over Sherlock’s lips before he could protest, and dipped his head down to gently kiss him. He ignored the sticky substance for a moment, waiting to see if Sherlock would remain stiff or if he would finally begin to work with John again.
The kiss completely took him off guard. His eyes snapped open, brain kicking into overdrive as he tried to sort out the physical contact. Upon realizing that it was controlled, that John wasn’t pushing the subject too far, that his mate was waiting on his reaction. It was safe. John was being safe. His eyes eased shut again. Ok. Ok, he could do this. It couldn’t be that hard. His hands gently cupped John’s cheeks, keeping him close.
John grinned when he felt Sherlock finally relax, and he pulled back again as far as Sherlock’s gentle grip would allow, licking his lips to clean them of jam. He was pretty sure he’d associate the taste of strawberry jam with Sherlock from now on, not that he minded. Hell, it might have just gotten bumped up over raspberry to be his favorite flavor. He dipped his head down again, to press a rather firm kiss to Sherlock’s sticky lips again. This was working out much better than he had expected.
A shuddering breath tumbled from his lips after the second kiss. His brain had completely stalled. Sherlock Holmes, for once in his life, was in over his head - and he liked it. The flavor of strawberries and John bloomed on his tongue as he licked his lips. It wasn’t bad. It was actually more addicting than his nicotine. He gulped then, Adam’s apple bobbing, as he looked at John. He had no idea what to do - he was relying on John’s cues now.
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
John smiled, sucking the jam from his fingers. It really was a good flavor, even if raspberry was his favorite. “Come on, Sherlock, have some jam” He offered the jar over, licking a spare drop off his index finger, rather slowly. “You seemed pretty keen on it earlier” He smiled at him, trying to get the playful, husky voiced Sherlock from earlier out again. Now that he had his answer, now that he knew that Sherlock wasn’t about to take advantage of his feelings, he was willing to play around again. Sherlock’s simple yes was all he needed to know.
“And I had my fill.” Neck still exposed, Sherlock barely glanced at John. Ok. John wasn’t frowning or scowling or anything because of him. That was good. Smiles were better than frowns. “You know very well that I don’t eat much.”
“You’re not being a very good sport about this” John sighed, taking another scoop of jam from the jar. “It was your idea in the first place” He spread some over Sherlock’s lips before he could protest, and dipped his head down to gently kiss him. He ignored the sticky substance for a moment, waiting to see if Sherlock would remain stiff or if he would finally begin to work with John again.
The kiss completely took him off guard. His eyes snapped open, brain kicking into overdrive as he tried to sort out the physical contact. Upon realizing that it was controlled, that John wasn’t pushing the subject too far, that his mate was waiting on his reaction. It was safe. John was being safe. His eyes eased shut again. Ok. Ok, he could do this. It couldn’t be that hard. His hands gently cupped John’s cheeks, keeping him close.
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
John waited, crouching awkwardly in front of the pale man. His heart was beating harder and faster than it reasonably should. Sherlock covered his face, hiding, but the answer still came, just loud enough for John to hear. He nearly fell back, surprised, despite his suspicions. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself down again, and licked his suddenly very dry lips. “Right. Okay” He nodded, and rose to his feet, his fingers wrapped around the jam again. He unscrewed the top and dropped into Sherlock’s lap, dipping his fingers into the preserves. “Care for some jam?” He broke out into a smile, relieved that Sherlock felt the same way he did. It was rather freeing, to know that he wasn’t completely delusional.
“Not hungry.” His reply was terse. The added weight in his lap was unexpected, but he didn’t let it show. What appetite he had had earlier was gone. He didn’t get a response from John, not one that was solid and made sense. He didn’t run off, which was a good sign, or completely freak, which was also good. Still not completely the answer he was looking for, though.
John smiled, sucking the jam from his fingers. It really was a good flavor, even if raspberry was his favorite. “Come on, Sherlock, have some jam” He offered the jar over, licking a spare drop off his index finger, rather slowly. “You seemed pretty keen on it earlier” He smiled at him, trying to get the playful, husky voiced Sherlock from earlier out again. Now that he had his answer, now that he knew that Sherlock wasn’t about to take advantage of his feelings, he was willing to play around again. Sherlock’s simple yes was all he needed to know.
“And I had my fill.” Neck still exposed, Sherlock barely glanced at John. Ok. John wasn’t frowning or scowling or anything because of him. That was good. Smiles were better than frowns. “You know very well that I don’t eat much.”
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
John licked his lips. “I didn’t ask that” He pointed out, waiting for Sherlock’s real answer. He stared solidly back up at Sherlock, daring him to take their conversation a step further. He was right, more or less, about his reaction if Sherlock said no. He’d probably mourn the lost chance, move on with his life, say a few rude comments every now and again when he had to much to drink. Still, he’d leave Sherlock to his choice. He wasn’t the type to press matters like that, it just left things awkward and bitter.
Eyes closing completely again, Sherlock’s lips moved in an inaudible sound before he spoke up. One arm heaved itself over his face. He hated emotions. He hated feelings and the social cues that everybody seemed to live by. It was so, so - inefficient. Always acting on whims instead of cold hard logic and facts - it just didn’t make sense! But if there was one person that would elicit that response from Sherlock, whether from the depths of his mind or his heart or wherever it came from, it would be John.
“Yes.”
John waited, crouching awkwardly in front of the pale man. His heart was beating harder and faster than it reasonably should. Sherlock covered his face, hiding, but the answer still came, just loud enough for John to hear. He nearly fell back, surprised, despite his suspicions. He took a deep breath trying to calm himself down again, and licked his suddenly very dry lips. “Right. Okay” He nodded, and rose to his feet, his fingers wrapped around the jam again. He unscrewed the top and dropped into Sherlock’s lap, dipping his fingers into the preserves. “Care for some jam?” He broke out into a smile, relieved that Sherlock felt the same way he did. It was rather freeing, to know that he wasn’t completely delusional.
“Not hungry.” His reply was terse. The added weight in his lap was unexpected, but he didn’t let it show. What appetite he had had earlier was gone. He didn’t get a response from John, not one that was solid and made sense. He didn’t run off, which was a good sign, or completely freak, which was also good. Still not completely the answer he was looking for, though.
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
One twitching hand stopped, reaching up to rub the detective’s face. Of course. John wasn’t going to drop this easily. “If I said no, you would drop the subject, allow us both to rest and never bring this up again. You would perhaps drop hints of it to Lestrade in a poor attempt to gain further understanding, but other than that, this would be the final word.” He took a shuddering breath, eyes barely opening to look down at John. “If I say yes. Well. I cannot predict your actions then.”
John licked his lips. “I didn’t ask that” He pointed out, waiting for Sherlock’s real answer. He stared solidly back up at Sherlock, daring him to take their conversation a step further. He was right, more or less, about his reaction if Sherlock said no. He’d probably mourn the lost chance, move on with his life, say a few rude comments every now and again when he had to much to drink. Still, he’d leave Sherlock to his choice. He wasn’t the type to press matters like that, it just left things awkward and bitter.
Eyes closing completely again, Sherlock’s lips moved in an inaudible sound before he spoke up. One arm heaved itself over his face. He hated emotions. He hated feelings and the social cues that everybody seemed to live by. It was so, so - inefficient. Always acting on whims instead of cold hard logic and facts - it just didn’t make sense! But if there was one person that would elicit that response from Sherlock, whether from the depths of his mind or his heart or wherever it came from, it would be John.
“Yes.”
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
“When have I not been?” His head stayed on it’s place where it had lolled. His fingers plucked at the place the violin had been, music still sounding from the depths of his mind. The slight tremor in his hands told that he needed a hit of nicotine, or something, to keep himself distracted. Damnable withdrawals.
John sighed, and dropped the jam of preserves to the ground. The detective wasn’t taking him seriously, yet, but maybe he’d start paying attention at some point. “Do you have feelings for me?” He narrowed his eyes, watching for any sign that Sherlock had even heard him. “Real, non-platonic feelings” He threw in the last bit just to clarify. Sherlock always managed to mess these types of words around if you weren’t completely specific.
One twitching hand stopped, reaching up to rub the detective’s face. Of course. John wasn’t going to drop this easily. “If I said no, you would drop the subject, allow us both to rest and never bring this up again. You would perhaps drop hints of it to Lestrade in a poor attempt to gain further understanding, but other than that, this would be the final word.” He took a shuddering breath, eyes barely opening to look down at John. “If I say yes. Well. I cannot predict your actions then.”
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
John sighed, feeling a sting of defeat. He had missed the moment, Sherlock had gone back into his shell. This might take more drastic measures than he had meant to use when he walked downstairs. He let a gentle hand go into Sherlock’s hair, moving the messy curls away from his pale face. “Sherlock, I’m not afraid of change, alright?” It was a soft comment. The doctor didn’t want to scare Sherlock any more away than he already was.
Slowly, the ever changing eyes slid shut. He liked the touches that passed between his flatemate and himself, despite the fact he would never actively admit it. The soft tone that John’s voice had took scared and comforted him. “I’m not either, you know.”
Sherlock certainly looked more relaxed. John pulled the violin from his hands, setting it aside. “I didn’t think you were” He continued, moving back to Sherlock, in front of him this time. He had nabbed the strawberry jam on his way back, and turned the jar over in his hands. The doctor dropped into a crouch, leveling his height with his seated flatmate. There were a few questions he needed answering. “Will you be honest with me?”
“When have I not been?” His head stayed on it’s place where it had lolled. His fingers plucked at the place the violin had been, music still sounding from the depths of his mind. The slight tremor in his hands told that he needed a hit of nicotine, or something, to keep himself distracted. Damnable withdrawals.
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
John stopped behind the chair, setting the jam on the coffee table with a loud enough ‘thunk’ to hopefully get through Sherlock’s thoughts. “Arachnophobia” He braced his hands on the back of the chair, looking down at Sherlock’s curls, watching his thin fingers move over the strings. ”Spiders scare the hell out of me” He continued, still unsure if the detective was even listening. “Not change”
The hazed eyes cleared some. Sherlock’s head lolled back, eyes still distant as they stared at John. “One of the more common phobias, only more sensible by your time spent overseas with the horrors of arachnids they have over there.”
John sighed, feeling a sting of defeat. He had missed the moment, Sherlock had gone back into his shell. This might take more drastic measures than he had meant to use when he walked downstairs. He let a gentle hand go into Sherlock’s hair, moving the messy curls away from his pale face. “Sherlock, I’m not afraid of change, alright?” It was a soft comment. The doctor didn’t want to scare Sherlock any more away than he already was.
Slowly, the ever changing eyes slid shut. He liked the touches that passed between his flatemate and himself, despite the fact he would never actively admit it. The soft tone that John’s voice had took scared and comforted him. “I’m not either, you know.”
Post reblogged from John Watson, Blogger with 58 notes
“Kainotophobia.” Sherlock’s voice, though muttered, was harsh and to himself. “The fear of change, something that one would think a practiced veteran like yourself would be used to. There are thousands of other phobias I would have pinned you for, and that is not one of them.” He takes a moment to rub his face, a habit from his childhood for when he was thinking, before blinking up at John from the bed. This was his only friend, the only person outside of blood relations that he had managed to obtain a rather intimate relationship with. He couldn’t tear John apart - not with these stupid impulses he had been feeling lately. He stood with a sigh. That was that. Even he knew that if he tried to push the subject further, it would only result in disaster. One hand patted John’s shoulder as he left the room, calling out a pathetic goodnight as he closed the door.
John’s response died in his throat as Sherlock left, and he sat heavily on the bed. Kainotophobia? He wasn’t afraid of change. Change was something he faced every day. He groaned, laying back, wondering what was wrong with him. The jam still sat on the bedside table, and he reached out for it, stretching to get it without having to get up. He pulled the preserves over to him, morosely, and let out a sad chuckle. There had been disappointment in Sherlock’s eyes as he left, more disappointment than there should have been over an experiment, or a one night stand. Maybe John had misread him. It happened, Sherlock was rather hard to understand, sometimes. John got to his feet, and padded downstairs, still carrying the strawberry jam, looking for Sherlock.
The detective had turned his chair to face the open window. His violin laid against his shoulder, long fingers plucking at the strings in a detached matter. His eyes held a far away look to them - locked away in the recesses of his mind, reviewing evidence and figuring out where he had gone wrong. Had he been too forward? Too subtle? Maybe he had picked up the wrong flavor of jam… Did that matter? Sherlock vaguely remembered reading something about aphrodisiac foods, but he had gotten rid of the information as soon as he had read it. He had thought he would have never needed it.
John stopped behind the chair, setting the jam on the coffee table with a loud enough ‘thunk’ to hopefully get through Sherlock’s thoughts. “Arachnophobia” He braced his hands on the back of the chair, looking down at Sherlock’s curls, watching his thin fingers move over the strings. ”Spiders scare the hell out of me” He continued, still unsure if the detective was even listening. “Not change”
The hazed eyes cleared some. Sherlock’s head lolled back, eyes still distant as they stared at John. “One of the more common phobias, only more sensible by your time spent overseas with the horrors of arachnids they have over there.”
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