The Only Thing Worth Fighting For

Chapter 14

John put Rosie down for her afternoon nap and looked over at Sherlock lying despondant on the sofa; despite solving four cases that morning from the blog, the detective was bored, (John knew this because Sherlock insisted on telling him every few minutes with an ear ringing shout of 'booooored') and was quickly becoming a threat to Mrs Hudson's mental health.

"Shall we have a shower?" John asked as he finished washing the remaining bottles and pots from lunch.

"Why? I don't smell," Sherlock insisted, lifting his inside out pyjama top and taking a deep sniff of his own underarms.

John laughed and rolled his eyes. "That's not the point."

Sherlock frowned before seemingly understanding John's hint. 'Oh, coitus! You want to touch me."

The doctor chuckled and nodded his head playfully before reaching for Sherlock's hand. "You were so good to me when I was mortally disabled."

"By your dead arm you mean?" Sherlock tutted dramatically, "Honestly, such a drama queen."

"Hmm," John nuzzled his nose against Sherlock's neck and throat, scenting the spot directly behind the younger man's ear. "So I thought maybe I'd look after you."

"Wh- What would that entail?" Sherlock asked cautiously, his heart suddenly starting a blistering pace as his cock stiffened in his thin trousers.

"Whatever you like," John whispered seductively, "Personally, I was thinking I might wash your hair and give you a nice massage under the water and then maybe use my hand on you."

"Mmmm," Sherlock mewled, his knees threatening to buckle. "I'd like that."

"In you pop then." John patted him on the surprisingly plush arse before walking to grab the baby moniter to set up on the bathroom sink incase Rosie woke. Sherlock watched John for a moment before spurring himself into action and grabbing two large towels from the airing cupboard and entering the bathroom where he turned on the water and began to strip.

The younger man was momentarily nervous at the thought of John being able to see his scars so freely; despite their conversation and weeks of intimate touching, the doctor had never seen them up close other than the one time when he had interrupted Sherlock's shower. The thought had Sherlock on edge and he wondered how best to hide his flaws as John entered and wrapped his protective arms around Sherlock, one around his neck and the other around his waist. His clothed body pressed up against Sherlock's naked one as the bathroom steadily became steamy from the hot water.

"You never have to hide yourself," John whispered into Sherlock's hair, watching the curls shudder with each exhale. "I love you regardless."

"But my scars... they're ugly," Sherlock blushed, embarrassed at his own neediness.

"Do you find my scar ugly?" John asked, watching as Sherlock's eyes flew open and his head begun to shake wildly.

"No. No, God no!" Sherlock cried.

"Exactly," John whispered, "My scar brought me to you and your scars brought you back to me. We fit, like the most broken jigsaw in the world."

letting one hand rest over John's heart he pressed a kiss to John's mouth and opened his lips to allow their tongues to meet and sweep against one another. Again and again they passionately snogged until they were both panting and wild eyed.

"The water will get cold," John whispered with an evil grin as he pinched Sherlock's bum and caused the detective to squeak in an unmanly way at the gesture. John stripped his clothes quicker than he thought possible before standing under the spray and offering his hand to Sherlock who climbed in afterwards, wrapping his arms around John's body and letting his fingers twist into John's sandy blond strands of hair which were rapidly becoming wet under the fall of the shower.