Fifty Shades of Sherlock (A Johnlock/Mystrade fanfiction)

Chapter Three

The sound of a familiar violin awoke John from his slumber. He smiled to hear it; he'd never heard the song before. Perhaps Sherlock was composing.

Yawning, the blonde ran a hand through his thin, spiky hair and made his way downstairs. He smiled when his flatmate dropped his instrument to his sides, looking to make sure it was John who'd stepped rather quietly down the steps.

"'Morning Sher," he slurred lazily, going to put the kettle on.

Said man hummed a bit and John heard footsteps getting closer, bare feet sticking slightly to the floor of the kitchen. "Good morning," Sherlock murmured into the other man's ear, his arms wrapping around John's waist and his chin resting against his non-injured shoulder. A soft kiss was placed at the crook of John's neck, making his smile widen softly and he felt warmer.

"You know you don't have to kiss on me all the time, right?"

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat and nuzzled into John's neck. "Mmm, yes, but I like to. We've been together for about a week now, anyway. I should be allowed to kiss you anytime I want."

A chuckle vibrated against the novelist's cheek. "Don't feel so smug about it. I let you, don't I?"

"I could stop," he said slyly.

John blinked. "You stop kissing me and I'll stop giving you those cuddles that you love." Even if Sherlock was embarrassed about them...

A sigh drifted across John's collarbone. "I'll keep doing it then. If anything, I'm tempted to do it even more," the brunet mumbled as he laid soft kisses against the other's tan neck.

The doctor closed his eyes in pleasure and leaned into the touch before turning to pour their tea into two mugs. "Feel free to get yourself comfortable on the couch. I'll be there in a moment."

~•~

Lestrade ruined their lazy couch cuddling with a case Sherlock was tempted to turn down. But it was just too hard to resist (four bodies placed in four different rooms of a building and absolutely no sign of resemblance between any of them, apparently. No sign of the cause of murder either, though that's clearly what it was).

At the crime scene, Sherlock deduced as much as he could as to get the process over with. His-currently-grey-green eyes flicked to John's own ocean-blue ones that shined with affection and suddenly, his train of thought was lost; the man's description of the murderer came out as a short and halfhearted mumble.

"Amazing," John murmured, beaming at the (at the moment) detective. The word drew Sherlock's eyes to his lips and in that moment, they seemed so kissable. So, he did just that. In front of Lestrade's entire division of Scotland Yard.

It was soft, sweet, and not too long. Just enough time for about two blinks and then their lips separated. But a breath later, Sherlock pulled them both into another kiss, this time more passionate about it. John took control, licking across Sherlock's lip to elicit a small gasp from the taller man. Their tongues met for the first time since they'd gotten together, slowly and sensually licking at the other's. Sherlock moaned softly just before Greg's voice finally entered his awareness. They broke apart, John with a heavy blush at having done that in front of everyone while Sherlock just had a permanent smirk plastered to his face.

"You do realize that this is a crime scene and not a date, right?"

"Oh please," the novelist started, rolling his eyes at Lestrade. "We've only been on one date and I doubt John would have allowed me to do that in the middle of a restaurant. Besides, it's not like you haven't done the same with Mycroft."