Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Claymore

Chapter 11

Sherlock opened his eyes slowly and for a second he was confused about where he was. Then as he saw John training in the corner with a wooden staff-a Bo, the events of the previous day and more importantly the night came back to Sherlock in a rush. Sherlock sighed with pleasure for he felt deliciously sore in all the right places.

John was wearing some sort of Samurai looking blue-grey garb, so that when he turned around to look over at Sherlock, his eyes took on the same coloring as the clothing.  John made a few more moves with the staff and then flopped down next to Sherlock. “Good morning, sleepy head,” John said as he kissed Sherlock on the forehead.

Sherlock fingered the front of John’s clothing. “What are you wearing John?” Sherlock asked as he ran his hands over the soft material.

John grinned. “Do you like it? It’s what the locals wear here. Apparently it keeps a person warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I’ve one for you too,” John said as he grabbed a neatly folded pile of clothing and thrust it towards Sherlock.

Sherlock turned the top and bottoms in his hands curiously. “How does this thing go?” Sherlock asked as he held the pants up.

John laughed. “I know you’re a proper genius and most likely know how to put on the clothing; however I’ll play. Sherlock, do you need me to help you get dressed?” John asked mockingly.

Sherlock flushed, for he really didn’t know how to put the clothing on. “Yes, please,” Sherlock humbly replied as he went and stood before John in his underwear.

John slipped the underwear off and replaced it with another garment. Sherlock took a deep breath as John’s hands slipped the new underwear on. John grinned as he slipped the pants on and showed Sherlock how to tie them, and then John slipped a sort of undershirt over Sherlock’s head, followed by the jacket which he showed Sherlock how to put on. “Make sure the right part is over the left, only dead people have the left part folded over first.” John said as he tied the top part of the clothing on Sherlock. Sherlock felt weak in the knees as John’s fingers grazed his nipples. John smiled when they immediately hardened. Sherlock took a deep breath and then knelt on the floor before he passed out.

John looked down at Sherlock’s glazed expression and sighed. “Come on, Sherlock, we need to train. We’ve already missed breakfast. I know you don’t like to eat, but I do. We don’t have time to play,” John said sternly and then sighed when Sherlock continued to stare up at him. “Okay, fine but it’s got to be quick and no getting undressed.” John said as he kneeled next to Sherlock. “Let me show you one of the attributes of these wide legged pants,” John said as he rolled up the pant leg, so that he could easily get to Sherlock’s groin. Sherlock gasped for air as John stroked him gently at first and then firmer, and then, “Oh God, harder,” Sherlock begged as he thrust his pelvis into John’s hands. John tried to make things last longer for Sherlock but when John observed Sherlock’s intense facial expressions and quicker heart rate, he knew it was time to help Sherlock finish.

Sherlock felt his body pulsing faster as he struggled for control. Clumsily he reached out to grab John’s pant leg and then just fell back. “John, I don’t want this to be one sided. I want you to also…,” Sherlock’s voice trailed off as he felt as if his whole body burst open in a final thrust.

Sherlock struggled to prevent himself from weeping as he lay in John’s arms. “SSh, it’s okay,” John soothed. “Don’t worry about me I can take care of myself. You just lay back and enjoy the sensation,” John whispered as he licked behind Sherlock’s ear.

Sherlock’s next sentence came out in a hurried breath. “John, please I want to feel you in me.” Sherlock said as he looked up at John. His hair was plastered to his forehead in a sweaty mass and his facial expression was relaxed and yet full of tense need at the same time.

John brushed Sherlock’s hair from his forehead. “Sherlock, how do you look so innocent and full of lust at the same time?” John asked as he untied the front of his pants. He then untied the front of Sherlock’s pants, flipped him on his stomach and loosened the back of his pants. John teased Sherlock with his fingers for a few moments and then entered Sherlock with one strong thrust. Sherlock reviled in pleasure as John’s movements increased in tempo. The only two sounds in the room were the sound of Sherlock whimpering in coordination with John’s noisy moist thrusts. Sherlock didn’t bother to hold back the tears of joy when John’s hot moisture poured inside him, as well as soaking his thighs.  John lay on top of Sherlock gasping for a few moments before he shoved himself up to clean up.

Sherlock reached his hand back and tugged on John’s sleeve. “John, don’t go yet. I want to feel you.” John knew what Sherlock meant and frowned. He thought Sherlock most kinky in this regard, but John shrugged as he let Sherlock reach into his pants and run his hands through the remnants of John’s moist fluid. Sherlock reached in like a greedy child, until his hands were covered with John’s moisture, he rubbed it into his arms and hands. Then Sherlock brought his hands to his face and inhaled deeply. “God, John, I love your scent.”

John laughed and pulled Sherlock closer. “Sherlock, you are such a weirdo, I love you, even though you are a proper kinky genius.”

Sherlock didn’t answer as he became lost in the sensual feel of his wet hands.

John smiled shook his head and went to see if the outdoor shower was free.

About a half hour later John joined Clare in the training area. They practiced with the staff, swords, and hand to hand sparing. Sherlock showed up about twenty minutes later with a staff of his own. He and John trained together for a few moments and then John came and stood beside Sherlock, so that he could correct his stance. John leaned over and sniffed. “Sherlock, did you shower?” John whispered as he wrinkled his nose.

Sherlock looked down at the ground, tracing the stones of the training area with his foot. “No, I want to keep the smell with me. You know how I like your special fragrance,” Sherlock said as he tried to look bored.

John smiled at Sherlock and shook his head. “Come on pervert, back to work.” 

The rest at the shelter was almost at an end; Clare informed them at tea a few days later. “The weather is clearing up so we should be able to make good time by the end of the week.”

Jake nodded. “It will be good to get on the road again.”

John was about to reply and then frowned. “Clare, did you hear that?” John asked as Clare nodded in agreement.

Sherlock strained his ears, but didn’t hear anything. Then Rathery screeched out a warning just before a large black winged dragon like creature flew into the courtyard. On its back sat a glowing eyed Yoma. John, Clare, and several other warriors from the complex joined John and Clare. The black evil looking dragon looked at its enemies and decided that the odds weren’t to its liking and it flew off. The Yoma stayed to fight. As always John was the first to challenge it. John and the Yoma circled each other in order to size each other up. Instead of fighting with John the Yoma reached back and grabbed Sherlock by the hair. Sherlock cried out in pain as the Yoma dragged him across the courtyard on his knees. The Yoma laughed cruelly at Sherlock’s dilemma and then raised its clawed hand back so that it could rip Sherlock’s throat out.

“No,” John cried as he rushed at the creature in fear and rage. John’s emotions got the better of him and as a result the Yoma quickly saw a weak place in John’s defense as its claws ripped his shoulder open. “Oh God,” John said as he sank to the ground in agony. The Yoma overcome with blood lust failed to notice Clare’s approach until it was too late. With a clean, thwack sound she sliced the Yoma’s head off its shoulders. The spurting head rolled across the courtyard in a grotesque windmill motion, until it flopped, unmoving against the wall.

 “Ouuu,” Jake said as he turned his face away from the severed head.

Sherlock crawled over to where John had fallen and took him in his arms. John was pale and sweaty, but still conscious. “John,” Sherlock gasped as he ripped off his jacket to stop the blood flow. Sherlock, watched with horrified fascination as dark blood soaked the jacket. At first Sherlock thought that the blood was deoxygenated because of the deep color, but on further inspection, Sherlock realized the blood wasn’t a deep red, it was black. John’s blood was black.