A/N Hey My Lovelies!!!! So Bobcatpaw requested that I write a oneshot based off some of the tweets from the Contact Twitter accounts (if you aren't following those accounts you need to ContactSH and ContactJHW) its cute and a little sexy so....Enjoy<3
Since John had moved back into Baker Street, things were different between them. They weren't exactly together, but they had started dancing around each other with unspoken words, and lingering touches. Sherlock was unsure how to proceed, so he just acted normally, following John's cues with how much touching and soft words were allowed.
One day, Sherlock came home from NSY to find John cooking dinner. There was nothing new in that image, John had left the clinic after Mary left with the baby so he had more than enough free time. Sherlock loved seeing John cooking, it gave 221B a level of domesticity that it had been lacking for so long.
John turned when he heard Sherlock enter, flashing him a cheeky grin and winking. Sherlock felt his breath catch at that.
"Hey, suppers almost done. Go wash your hands."
"Why do I need to wash my hands?"
"You were just at the morgue, God only knows what you touched." Sherlock rolled his eyes but obeyed, shuffling around John to get to the sink. As he did, he caught sight of the apron John was wearing, and felt a spark of mischievousness flare up in his chest.
He washed his hands nonchalantly, drying them off on one of the flannels hanging off the stove. He leaned on his hip and watched John finish dinner, a soft smirk pulling at his lips. He waited until John had nothing in his hands before moving.
He gripped John's elbow and spun him around, cutting off his confused yelp with his lips. It was awkward, slightly uncomfortable, and confusing. John pulled back, breathless and flushed, but he didn't run.
"Uh- Sh-Sherlock- um- what- wow." John stuttered, clinging desperately to Sherlock's shoulders. Sherlock's mind was spinning, that hadn't gone quite how he had planned, but he wasn't objecting to it.
"Y-your apron." He stumbled over the words, clearing his throat and licking his lips.
"My apron?"
"Y-yes. I-it says k-kiss- 'kiss the cook' s-so I-I did." He had never struggled with words as much as he was standing there, clinging to his blogger. "Sorry, was that not good?"
"No! No, it was good! Very good. Just a little, unexpected." John took a deep breath, running his hands along Sherlock's shoulders and neck, stopping when they reached his face.
"John-"
"I-I don't know what's happening Sherlock. All I know, is I really want to kiss you again." John whispered, pulling Sherlock down to meet his lips in a timid kiss.
Sherlock was frozen for a moment, uncertain what to do, but then John deepened the kiss and his body reacted. He pulled John closer, his hands finding purchase on his hips. He moaned when he felt John's tongue gently licking into his mouth. He broke away, searching desperately for air as John latched onto his throat, nipping and sucking at the skin there.
"God, John. Bedroom. Now." He grabbed at John's shirt, trying to tug him towards the bedroom. John chuckled against his collarbone.
"The food will burn." Sherlock reached back, fumbling for the controls of the stove, switching everything off and dragging John closer.
"No, it won't." John grinned darkly and gripped the back of Sherlock's thighs, lifting him up onto the counter, pulling a shocked sound from Sherlock's throat. He always forgot how strong the shorter man really was.
"I could make you wait." John growled against his collarbone, biting and sucking the skin between words. "Make you sit and eat your dinner before taking you to bed." Sherlock whimpered, unable to form the words to beg him not to do that. "Would you behave Sherlock? Would you sit and eat your dinner, maybe let me tease you while you do? Then let me take you to bed and fuck you senseless?"
"G-God John-" Sherlock moaned as John latched on to the sensitive bit of skin just in the dip of his collarbone. He grappled for something to cling to as his mind spun out of control.
"Talk to me Sherlock. What do you want?" Sherlock whimpered and struggled to pull John's shirt off. "Answer me Love." John's voice was dark and husky, sending chills along the detective's spine.
"John- God, please-" John chuckled and kissed him, pulling him off the counter and pushing him roughly against the door frame.
"Meet me in the bedroom. I'm just going to cover some things and I'll be right in."
"The food will be fine John."
"Do as I say or this ends now." John was using his Captain Watson voice and Sherlock scrambled to obey.
Never in his wildest dreams would Sherlock have guessed that a bloody apron would finally get John to sleep with him.
He would have to thank Mrs. Hudson profusely once he could walk again.
