Johnlock one-shots || Sherlock BBC show

Limping

There's a mention of last night's sex. John thinks about what happened, but there's no actual sex scene in this. I'll just put asterisks around every description.

John's pov:

I woke up to Sherlock next to me, in our bed, his face turned my way. He was still sound asleep, at least that's what it looked like. He's so peaceful when he's sleeping. Something else caught my eye though, the marks I left on him last night. They went from his neck to below his left nipple as far as I could see, but I knew their trail was much longer.

Sherlock's sex drive is very different from mine, with him being asexual, but I don't mind. I'd love him even if he turned out to be a serial killer. However, when he wants to fuck, I'm always up for it. *And God last night was fantastic. He even made me pull out my jacket from my days in Afghanistan. You wouldn't think that he'd be this kinky.*

I wanted to fall back asleep, not wanting to wake him up yet, but then Sherlock's phone began to ring. I wanted to hang it up, but it was too late. Sherlock was already mumbling something from the bed and waking up.

"It's Greg," I said. He motioned for me to pick it up.

"Hello, Greg."

"Hey, John. Listen we have a case here that we think might really interest Sherlock. I don't really wanna talk on the phone, can you guys just come to the station?"

Sherlock was getting up, wanting to hear the phone call, but he couldn't. He started to, then fell right back onto the bed with a groan. Repeatedly. At first, I looked at him confused. Were his iron levels low? Was he hurt? Then when the thought came into my head a smirk plastered on my face.

"You know, why don't you come here?" I responded after a while, amused.

"I know it's morning, but it's eleven o'clock! Can't you guys just get off your arses and get here?" Greg said with an inpatient undertone.

"You know what, I think it's time I give the phone to Sherlock. He'll tell you. Right, darling?" I gave the phone to Sherlock and listened to what had to say.

"So? Will you come here? C'mon, trust me, you will be getting off on this for months! It's right up your alley." Greg tried to convince us.

"Geoffrey, I think it is very much physically impossible for us to get to the police station right now. Could you just come here and save me the embarrassment?"

"Greg... Alright, I'll come with Sergeant Donovan to Baker Street, but you better have a good reason."

"Thanks. And don't bring Anderson, please!" he said before, at last, hanging up the phone. "What are we gonna tell them?"

"We? I think that very much a you problem," I tried not to laugh.

"You did this to me, John, you have to help me."

"Didn't seem like you had a problem with it last night..." **I remembered him against the wall, me pounding into him so hard Sherlock couldn't contain his loud moans that woke up even Mrs. Hudson. I was almost getting hard just at the thought. I cleared my throat to get myself back into reality. **"Just play it off like nothing happened. Don't stress about it, love, it's not like people don't know we're together. They'll just laugh it off and tell you about the case. Just cover up the hickeys."

"You better be right..." Sherlock put his hands towards me and I took it as an invitation for a kiss. Just a peck on the lips. It was short yet the most perfect thing ever. His lips were perfect. His blue-grey eyes were perfect. His cheekbones were perfect. He was perfect, even though he always laughed when I said it. I always meant it. Every syllable. I loved him even through his sociopathic, unsocial self.

—

Sally didn't come, she said she was busy. We all know that she didn't come because she didn't really like Sherlock that much. I couldn't imagine why.

Sherlock and I were sitting in the sitting room in our armchairs, all dressed of course, when Greg came in.

"What made it so difficult for you two to get off your arses?"

"Him" came from Sherlock's mouth. Lestrade shot a look towards me and I looked at him back innocently. At first, he looked confused and didn't get it, but him being a detective and all, though not as good as Sherlock obviously, the thought hit him and he chuckled.

"You're telling me, that you, John Watson, fucked the famous Sherlock Holmes so hard he couldn't get off his arse?" I smiled proudly and he started laughing, Sherlock looking at him with annoyance. "Oh come on, it's not like it's a surprise, eh?" When he stopped laughing he pulled out a thick folder and threw it into Sherlock's lap.

"John, I hope you don't have the same problem, 'cause I'll need some tea and yours is the best." I rolled my eyes at him and went into the kitchen, leaving the two with the case.

I know this was very short and probably really bad. If you could leave some feedback that would be amazing. I thought about writing more about the night, but I didn't want the first story to be smutty. I hope you enjoyed it. x