Fifty Shades of Sherlock (A Johnlock/Mystrade fanfiction)

Chapter Four

Sherlock woke trembling and panting in his bed, sitting up in sudden horror. Of course, this roused John from his sleep were he was previously rested beside him.

"Nightmare, Sher?" John slurred sleepily, arms wrapping around Sherlock's waist as he sat up beside him.

The brunet nodded and sighed in relief, his mind finally registering his subconscious' imaginings as a dream.

"You okay?"

When Sherlock turned his head, John's blond eyebrows were raised in concern, his lips curved into a slight frown.

"Of course. I'm fine." He gave a smile to emphasize his point.

John nodded in return, lying back against their rather large pillow and patting the spot beside his head in invitation. "Lie back down."

Sherlock complied, softly lying down, body turning to face his boyfriend (and still hating that word). The doctor's arm draped over the other's waist, curling around to press against his back, making Sherlock wriggle into John's chest.

So far, they hadn't been intimate past leaving little marks on each other's necks. It was really rather nice just like that, and Sherlock couldn't ask for too much more. Well, he could, but he wasn't going to embarrass himself like that.

John, on the other hand, would've loved to hear Sherlock whispering his filthy needs and wants in his ear, or even better, begging for it. He wouldn't tell that to Sherlock, though. Not yet, anyway.

~•~

"What? Seriously?!" Greg was insanely amused by this, but John...? Not so much.

"Not, so loud, please? I'd like to save what little bit of dignity I have left," John replied, taking another swig of his beer.

He'd invited Lestrade out to the pub for a pint to catch up, and somehow, John had let out the fact that he and Sherlock still hadn't had sex yet.

"I'd have imagined you two would be going at it like animals, the way you act." The older man grinned into his glass before sipping at it. "Especially since Myc and I have done it plenty of times already."

John nearly spat his beer onto the bartender that was passing by at that moment. "What? Mycroft is capable of actually... How in the hell did you get him in bed?"

"Real easy, actually. He seduced me into it. Pretty damn amazing at it, too." He stopped to look at a nearby camera there and wink, knowing his lover had to be watching.

The blond sighed and pressed his forehead into the bar. "You think I should do that, then? Skirt around, give him light little touches, wait 'til he gives in?"

"Yeah. That should do it. You know Sherlock. When he wants something, he'll demand it. Especially if you deny him of it. It's like the cigarette thing, just with you."

John thought back to that very incident. Yeah. I'll wait 'til he begs for it, he thought, sitting back up with a grin.

~•~

It wasn't much so far. John was only complimenting, but that didn't keep Sherlock from reacting so positively. Depending on your standpoint in the matter, of course. But from where Sherlock stood (bent over to inspect a corpse rested not-so-peacefully in a desk chair), the flush that came to his cheeks was rather intolerably embarrassing.

All of John had done was compliment his brilliance as he always does. No problem. Except he used a sexy, gravely undertone that had Sherlock shivering, even under his layers of coats and scarves and tight shirts. The worst of it was, he couldn't see John at that moment, that voice having resounded directly behind him where his arse was put on display. He wished John would reach out and touch, caress his detective however—and wherever—he pleased.