Sherlock Imagines!

The Reichenbach Fall

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His lips were on her neck, and his hands were on her hips. They were staking on a room, across from a suspect's place, trying to make it as quiet as possible rather than focusing on the job. John couldn't know, he must not find out because it was wrong but they couldn't stop.

It was behind the glances they shared behind his back or the lingering touches when they walked across the crime scenes. It was perhaps under those all-nighters when they made the proper research before going after the criminal.

They were supposed to be spying on the suspect, but it was impossible for them not to keep their hands for themselves whenever the other one was around. Therefore, while John entered the suspect's flat, Sherlock and (Y/N) got distracted from doing their job.

A wall, the floor, even a squeaky chair was perfect as long as they were together. It was a relationship guided by raw passion and nothing else, and it was so intense that they both betrayed the man they loved just to be with each other.

John was too good for them, and they knew it, but when their lips met the first time they were gone forever.

It had been during Christmas when they decided to do a bit of research after the party. Guided by the alcohol and the romantic aura of the mistletoes, their lips found their way to the others, crashing in a passionate kiss that led to more and more. The morning after they tried to ignore, to forget, but such pleasure is hard to find and so their adventure began.

They wanted to tell John, it was the least they could do. But they loved him too much to hurt him like that. Instead, they continued hiding, sharing that mortal secret until John got tired of (Y/N) and decided to leave her.

Sherlock had never felt guilty before, but such feeling invaded his whole body when, months after, John confessed to being looking for engagement rings. The detective had to fake a smile and pretend that it hurt him to know that she, the woman he had learned to love in secret, was just the ideal for John, his best friend.

John was too good, too kind, and too precious. His great heart and loving smile deserved better than the two rotten souls he was damned to live with. If he only knew that (Y/N) didn't feel the same anymore...

She loved him still but said love wasn't nearly as strong as it was in the beginning. She didn't love Sherlock like she had loved John, but it was only because she wouldn't allow herself to feel such thing for the detective.

They had tried to stop in the past. Being away from each other was fatal for them. The heat between them, the wetness of their lips together, the sweat all over their skin, their hearts beating together... It was all too much to forget.

And now, while John risked his life, they were together, sinning once again. Careless, shameful and unable to stop; they were panting, sweating and ignoring the fact that John was in danger at that precise moment; less to say, they didn't know he was about to find them.

Their minds had been absorbed in each other's body, focused solely on the eyes of one another while they made love once again.

"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?" Watson roared as he entered the room. His head was bleeding and his clothes were dirty. Sherlock and (Y/N) pulled away instantly, as they searched for any piece of clothing to cover the necessary.

"John, I can explain." She rushed to say.

"Alright," Watson said, pretending to be calm, "tell me. Explain why you, my girlfriend, is banging my best mate; or why you, my best mate, is banging my girlfriend."