Johnlock Oneshots

You Can Just Ask

The flat was quiet for a Tuesday. There wasn't a case so Sherlock was bored out of his mind and John could do nothing to help. It was strange though, for a day so boring there was a lack of violin... or gunshots being fired into the wall.

John found Sherlock laying on the couch, cuddling his violin. He grabbed the 'Do Not Disturb' sign from the kitchen and hung it on the door handle so Mrs. Hudson wouldn't walk in on anything she didn't need nor want to see again.

"Sherlock?" John called. "Are you awake?"

"I'm always awake."

John sat at the end of the couch, a hand resting on Sherlock's leg, "It's a bit quiet here, don't you think?"

Sherlock rolled onto his back and looked towards John, "What do you expect? No case for weeks. Lastrard hasn't been much of a help either. Not even a phone call!"

"You just live for the deaths of innocent people, don't you?"

Sherlock scoffed, "They're hardly ever innocent. All of them have something to hide. Whether or not that contributed to their death in one way or another is what's important to me."

"That sounds just as bad."

"What do you want me to say?" Sherlock retorted. "I regret the deaths of civilians, I'm so grateful to help their families to understand what horrible thing they did to end them up in a gutter. You're making it seem like I'm not emotionless."

John smiled, "You're not emotionless, Sher. Not to me at least. I'm pretty sure there has to be some kind of emotion to make me limp so bad that I have to use my cane again."

Sherlock moved his violin onto the floor and John took the opportunity to crawl on top and curing into him. Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and sighed, "You're the only person I could ever feel such deep emotions for, John. I'd just been a vacant heart with a genius mind."

John wrapped one of Sherlock's curls around his finger, looking at his face and taking in everything beautiful about Sherlock. His eyes opened, piercing John with something he could only describe at the my beautiful space phenomenon known to man.

He laughed to himself. Sherlock could never understand or appreciate that comment.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "What did I do?"

John shook his head, "Nothing... Nothing." He crawled closer to Sherlock, to look right into his face. His erection was rubbing directly against Sherlock's, turning John's face pink. "Sorry, I- Uh..."

"Do you want to have sex, John?"

"Yes."

Sherlock smirked triumphantly. He pushed John forward, grabbing at the button on his trousers.

"I don't understand why I have to practically announce that I'm turned on to get you to have sex? You can just ask or even tell me when you want to. You know that, right?"

Sherlock had already tuned John out. though. His pupils were dilated and his erection was rubbing uncomfortably against his pants. He was too busy pulling off his own clothes. After Sherlock was naked in front of John he began tugging at John's clothes, "Maybe if you didn't talk so much, this part would already be done."

John snorted, he would find a way to insult him, even in the most interment of situations.

By the time he was completely undressed, Sherlock was already coating his hand in lube. John laid back in front of him, spreading his leg apart, and stroking his cock slowly. Sherlock started to insert two fingers into John's arse.

"Start with one," John warned. They'd been busy with cases for two weeks and after Sherlock fell into a case slump. It'd been almost a month since they'd had sex and John was too tight to jump right into it like Sherlock wanted.

John felt an intense stinging sensation as Sherlock's figure buried itself in his arse. He gripped the couch for a moment before Sherlock took his hand and gave him a comforting squeeze. Sherlock moved slowly, letting John ease away from the pain and into the pleasure.

It was several minutes before John's back relaxed and his grip on Sherlock's hand became a signal of pleasure.

Sherlock's fingers were long and slender, easily reaching deep inside of him. He turned his finger, shoving it into John's prostate. It was typically hard for Sherlock to know what was pleasure or pain based on John's facial expressions, but a soft, low moan told him that he was doing good.

"Can I add another?" Sherlock whispered.

John nodded, eyes half lidded and a lazy smile on his face. Sherlock pushed a second finger in, trying to get John used to it as quickly as he could. He crooked his fingers inside, making John squirm in pleasure.

Sherlock added a third finger after a while of teasing. "Sherlo-" John moaned, pushing into his hand. He brushed a section of curls out of Sherlock's face, "Oh my god, Sher."

"Has the pain subsided?" John nodded and Sherlock smiled, "I never want to see you in pain. It's distressing to see a face like yours in pain "

That was just about as flirty as Sherlock got.

He pulled his fingers out of John, using the lube again to prep his member. Sherlock inched forward slowly, placing his throbbing cock against John's skin. He leaned down, connecting their lips, kissing John slowly and carefully as Sherlock slipped inside of him. John moaned into the kiss, arching his back and wrapping his legs around Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock started with slow, gentle strokes that just grazed the prostate. It always turns John into a dizzy mess, crying out for Sherlock to bury himself in him.

Sherlock rested his forehead against John's, their breath cascading over each other's faces, "You asked if I know that I can just ask you to have sex... I don't know that. I always worry that it's not the right time. I never know if you're horny or not. Sometimes, John, I just want to throw you down on the kitchen table-"

"Sherlock," John reached his hand to Sherlock's face, tracing his cheek bones and then pressing their lips together. They kissed, hard and rough, digesting each moan, feeding off each whimper. John pulled away, breathless and tingling. He was feeling Sherlock's every movement because of the build up and every movement threatened to send begging to be fucked into the couch.

Sherlock pulled out of John completely, staring at him for a moment before thrusting deep inside of him. John screamed, running his nails down Sherlock's back to try and get an ounce of control over himself.

Sherlock pushed John's legs up to his chest, using them as leverage as he pounded himself against John's prostate.

John lost himself quickly, coming all over his chest with a final scream of Sherlock's name. Sherlock found himself paying too much attention to John's reddened, sweaty face and heavy breathing to focus on his own pleasure.

Sherlock continued to thrust himself into John until he came just thirty seconds after. He shuddered, feeling the orgasm burning a hole in his abdomen. He pulled out of John, shuddering from the over stimulation before laying back and pulling John on top of him.

They both laid in silence, still shivering from their orgasms.

"Do you want to have sex more often?" Sherlock rasped.

John smiled, "Anytime you want."

"How about when we go wash up?"

"Shower sex? You're getting adventurous," John teased.

Sherlock didn't seem to get the pun, "It's for scientific purposes. My own little experiment."

John nodded, "Oh, I see. I didn't think it was possible for you to take the appeal out of sex."

"That's not funny."

John broke into laughter, "It's pretty funny."

Sherlock grabbed John, pulling him closer, "I love you."

John smiled into his chest, "I love you too, Sher."