Drugs (Johnlock)

Drugs

Merry late christmas
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He had never actually meant to do it. Greg had given it to him when both had been pretty drunk. "He's always so proud! He thinks he's the best! He should beg for something. Anything!" he had said. But Greg just smirked,"I might have something for you".

So now it's in Sherlock's tea. John trusts Greg; he wouldn't give him something to actually harm Sherlock, right? Sherlock's sitting in his armchair working on his laptop. John really didn't mean to do it but then Sherlock said it again. Obviously

And John just...Snapped.

It was a mistake but Sherlock had said it like he always does. Like he was an idiot for not realising certain things immediatly. His eyes are glued to the cup as Sherlock drinks. He feels the guilt already eating up his mind. It's not Sherlock's fault; he just doesn't know better. Drugging someone is such a terrible thing to do. Sherlock puts the cup aside not even looking up from the laptop,"now that I drank it...You might as well tell me what you mixed into it and why". John startles. He knows. Oh, of course he knows! He's Sherlock Holmes! John stares at him unable to make a sound or stand up. He wants to run. Run away and pretend it never happened. Pretend he didn't just drug his best friend. But Sherlock knows exactly what John's thinking,"yes, ofc I know. It's pretty obvious," he finally looks up at John and his eyes feel like knifes in John's chest. He knows he should feel bad for doing it but anger builds up instead. Sherlock still acts like the better one! And even worse: he knew there was something in his tea and still drank it like nothing! John could've killed him! No. No, he couldn't have. He'd never harm Sherlock on purpose. And Sherlock knows that. He knows John better than he knows himself. And that's exactly what makes John so angry. Sherlock always knows what he's doing and thinking. But what about him? Does he ever know what's going on inside of Sherlock? No! He only knows what Sherlock tells him. And he just believes every single word the man in front of him says. And he does what Sherlock tells him to. Sherlock is in control. Of everything. John's chest feels tight thinking about it. "You're Sherlock Holmes," he presses out," don't you already know? Isn't everything just obvious to you?" He clearly sees a glance of confusion in Sherlocks eyes before and needs to hold back a little smile of victory.

It's late at night as John decides to change into his pijamas. Not that he's gonna be able to sleep or anything. He sat around for hours. Filled with guilt. How could he? He drugged his best friend. The man that trusts him the most. Sherlock is probably gonna throw him out. There's no reason to live with someone that doesn't even hesitate before mixing something into your tea. He's going to lose Sherlock.

Knocking on the door breaks the silence. It sounded hectic. Mad. John doesn't answer. There's no use. He can't talk to Sherlock. There's nothing to say. No excuse. There's silence again. And another knock. Alright, Sherlock knows he's in here. There's no way to hide. He doesn't bother putting his shirt on before opening the door. He startles. This isn't Sherlock. This is a man he has never seen before. The black locks are a mess. He's looking down at his own hands he plays with nervously. His button down shirt isn't closed properly revealing a part of his collarbone and chest. And he's blushed standing like this in front of John. "I-...I need your help," he mumbles feeling Johns eyes all over him. John rises his eyebrows in surprise,"With?" Sherlock doesn't looks up but seperates his hands revealing a buldge in his pants. John's eyes widen. Is Sherlock serious? He now finally looks up and his blue-green eyes almost steal John's breath away. "W-why don't you d-do it yours-self?" he stutters a little overchallenged with the situation. Sherlock looks away again,"I tried... But I-I just couldn't... You know. Something's missing..." His voice is surprisingly high and almost cute. John can't believe this is real. Sherlock is standing in his door with an erection asking him for help. He has to lick over his suddenly dry lips. Sherlock's practically begging him with the way he looks. John pulls Sherlock into the room by his hips pressing his hand onto Sherlock's erection to hear a surprised and high moan right at his ear. He feels his own blood rushing into lower regions as Sherlock wraps his arms around his neck holding onto him. God, this feels good. He's in control now and Sherlock would do anything just so he doesn't stop. He starts placing kisses onto Sherlock's neck, who's leaning his head to give him more space. He kisses his way up to those soft lips of his best friend hearing sighs of lust. He doesn't hesitate to enter Sherlock's mouth with his tongue. His kiss is wild. Almost too much for Sherlock. His normally sharp mind is blurred and his body is screaming for relieve. John pulls his hand out from inbetween them causing Sherlock to press his painful erection against him. Both need to break the kiss in a moan. Sherlock can't believe this either. It's so embarrassing; he hides his face on John's shoulder pulling him closer. His knees get so weak he needs to be held by his best friend. John's hands slide under his shirt to feel his soft and warm skin making him shiver. However, he can't help rubbing himself on John. "Get onto the bed, Sherlock," John's dark voice makes him moan again. He follows John's order and walks over to the bed sitting down on it. John watches him trying to save every moment. It's a beautiful picture of Sherlock sitting on his bed with swollen red lips, breathing heavily, his shirt falling off his shoulder and looking up at him. But their clothing is kind of in the way. He doesn't waste a second before leaning down to quickly unbutton Sherlock's shirt and throw it onto the floor pressing his own lips onto Sherlock's again. Sherlock falls backwards onto the mattress as John intensifies the kiss. Sherlock's mind goes totally blank and only focuses on John's touch. John begins to kiss a path down to his neck making him moan a little and wrap his legs around him. He leaves big red marks on the white skin before continuing his way down to Sherlock's chest. He bites into one of his nipples just to lick over it gently. Sherlock moans his name as a reply causing him to continue and pull Sherlock's pants down. They find their way to the floor too. He sits up taking another look at the man laying beneath him. Aroused and waiting for him to go on. He reaches over to his nightstand, takes the little bottle and lays it onto the bed next to Sherlock. He stands up to get out of his own pants. His eyes widen as Sherlock gets onto hands and knees and crawls to the edge of the bed. "What are you-,"he can't even finish before Sherlock has wrapped his hand around him. He licks along the length of John before gently kissing the tip. He wraps his lips around him moving his head up and down. And he starts sucking. Hard. And moving fast. John buries his hands in Sherlock's locks trying to slow him down. If he continues like this, it's gonna be over soon,"That's... That's enough," he tries to pull Sherlock away, who's not listening at all. Ignoring John's words, he just keeps sucking on him to hear John's moans. "Sherlock!" John screams pushing him off. He nearly came. He's losing control over the situation; he takes a quick look around and grabs his old shirt from the ground. "John?!" screams Sherlock as John presses him face-down into the pillows to tie his hands together behind his back. Finally having a few seconds to cool down, John lays down next to Sherlock, who's turned to the side watching his every move. Their eyes meet and John finally realises what he has done.
Sherlock is nothing like Sherlock anymore. His eyes are dark and his breath is flat. The drug is at it's peak and Sherlock would give his all just to come now. This is wrong. John knows he's shamlessly using his best friend. Sherlock is on drugs. He can't make any decision. John needs to stop. Now.
Sherlock manages to get up and sit down on John's thighs. Both moan as their erections touch. Sherlock immediately starts moving his hips; rubbing them together,"John... Please..." John needs to swallow hardly. This is dangerous. Goddammit. He turns throwing Sherlock off and grabs the little bottle. He can't help it. He's losing control.

Sherlock falls backwards onto his tied up hands trying to focus. Impossible. He doesn't get to think of anything before John grabs his thighs and spreads his legs violently. He looks down just to see John spread the gel over his fingers. Everything seems so unreal. But the lust he feels is real. He doesn't know what's happening before he feels two fingers entering him. John needs to hold on for a second. This is wrong. But there's no turning back now. Sherlock won't ever forgive him so he might as well finish what he has begun. He quickly starts moving his fingers up and down, in and out and nothing words can explain until he finds a hard spot. Bingo! He wraps his other hand around Sherlock, whos moans sound more like a sobbing by now,"Ahhh...John!...Oh, god... Please don't stop...Please!" It feels so good his legs start twitching and he throws his head back into the mattress. The white liquid spreads over his own chest. John pulls his fingers out of him. The picture of a naked and still erected Sherlock Holmes with sperm on his stomach and chest looking at him with half-opened eyes will never leave his mind. He leans down to Sherlocks ear whispering,"Forgive me...Sherlock, forgive me" with a dark voice before thrusting himself into his best friend. Sherlock nearly screams as he feels something entering his now very sensitive insides,"Stop... John.. Aaaaahh...I-I can't..Take it!" John can't look at the tears runnig down Sherlocks perfect cheekbones. They make him angry. Not Angry at Sherlock. But Angry at himself. Sherlock will never be able to forgive him, right? What has he done? He pulls himself out of Sherlock, who struggles for air. He quickly picks Sherlock up and turns him over. Sherlock has to turn his head to the side in order to not have it pressed into the mattress. It hurts. This position hurts. The shirt around his wrists hurts. His neck and back hurt. And his insides hurt. The mattress has to catch his tears as John enters him again. Even harder. There really is no way back. John presses Sherlocks head down thrusting into him again and again. He hates himself more than everything right now. He starts sobbing. It's so wrong but it feels so good to finally have control over Sherlock. To pin him down. He thrusts into him one last time before coming deep inside him. He needs a moment to catch his breath before pulling himself out.

John lets himself fall onto the bed next to his best friend. Well, probably not even his friend anymore. Tears are still running down is cheeks. He's a terrible person, right? Sherlock falls onto his side. John pulls his crying friend into his arms,"please forgive me...Sherlock, will you do this for me?"  Sherlock doesn't get to answer before falling asleep out of exhaustion. John holds him in his arms that night; tears rushing down onto the pillow. A sobbing filled 221b Bakerstreet.