Secrets [Johnlock]

7: Instructions

"Close the door." John instructed, swiftly removing his jacket and throwing it with considerable force over to his chair, it laying across the back.

"What?"

"Close the door and kiss me."

Sherlock peered over to the man and attempted to deduce what had caused such a train of thought. His eyes were glossy, lips apart and breathing shallow. He was running a hand through his hair, becoming more impatient with each passing second. The detective saw his chance and did as he was told, spinning around to close the door. Instead of doing it calmly, he instead slammed the door and flinched at the bang! Before he could move any further, a desperate hand had moved his whole body, causing his back to press against the door. In a heartbeat, John's tongue danced along Sherlock's bottom lip and slipped inside, soft moans escaping one after the other. The taller man was gripping whatever fabric he could pull away, his fist clenching onto the hem, then the middle, then the neckline. He felt smaller hands exploring his curls and fingertips clumsily brushing his neck, causing shivers to race down his spine and along his arms. Neither man had ever been this needy before, craving rough satisfaction and yearning for friction. Sherlock's nails bit into John's shoulder blades and turned both of them around so that the smaller man was now against the door. His legs were lifted and wrapped around Holmes' torso, causing him to lean up and reach the soft cushions he was becoming addicted to. The kiss deepened until there was no oxygen left and they had to pull away. However, this was short-lived and after a swift deep breath they had locked lips once again. Quiet groans were released and ricocheted back and forth, causing more to be produced as a result. Sherlock could now rest his hands against the cool wood, feeling strong enough to let go. John's remained around his detective's neck and the occasional tap of fingertips caused further tingles to rush along his spine.

"Sherlock..."

"John..."

"Oh God, I want you." He panted, trying desperately to undo Sherlock's buttons. He was lowered to the floor, allowing him more space to slide the fabric from the detective's shoulders and let it fall to the floor. His pale torso pressed against John's shirt and they refused to break away, Sherlock's blood was racing, heart pounding, skin twitching.

"John, please..."

Their amorous oblivion soon became heightened awareness as they heard the footsteps of their landlady making their way upstairs. Panic flooded the room and the mere seconds they had with a closed door were quickly utilised by the detective. He darted along the hallway to his bedroom, shutting it quietly and waiting nervously with his ear pressed against the door.

John, still in the lounge, looked frantically for a place to resort to. The handle was turning. He grabbed the purple shirt from the ground and sprinted to his chair, jumping over the arm to land in the seat in the nick of time. The shirt was stuffed down the side of the cushion, aided by John's short fingers to conceal the stubborn button caught on the side, refusing to move.

"Boys, I've brought some tea," Mrs Hudson stated, moving to John's table to rest the tray. "Where's Sherlock?"

"He's in, erm, the bathroom." John rushed, his heart rate still through the roof, deciding not to mention the bedroom at all. The lady's imagination already ran wild without being aided by John's statements. Feeling more nervous by the second, he shifted closer to the left arm of his chair, his leg pressed up against it and his hand gripping on tightly. "Thank you for the tea, Mrs H."

"I'll get some biscuits on Thursday." She smiled, tapping his shoulder on her way out. "And tell Sherlock he still needs to fix my lamp!"

The now less tense man threw his head back as soon as she was out of sight, relieved that their antics had not been discovered. Hell, that was risky; she was inches away from seeing the shirt! Luckily, she hadn't seen anything. Phew.

After a couple of seconds, the taller man re-emerged, creeping back along the hall and silently locking the front door before returning to John. He knelt down before him, his hands firmly on the chair's arms.

"Shall we continue, Doctor?"