Soldier and his Detective

Chapter 15

Sherlock woke to the early morning sky filtering through the small slit in the curtains. His body was hot where it was sandwiched between the covers and John's own sleeping form. His face pressed against John's chest as he soaks in the scent. They had hardly slept last night. A smile spreads itself across Sherlock's face as he recalls the events of the previous night. He turns in further to plant a line of kisses along John's sternum. It vibrates against Sherlock's lips as a content hum emanates from the sleeping soldier.

Sherlock makes his way up from the chest to the jaw. Slowly pulling John out of his slumber. John holds tight to Sherlock, kissing back. Applying more pressure as he begins to fully wake. His eyes remain closed as he moves his hands and lips along with the man above him. Their grip tightening as they became more and more passionate.

John began to move so he could rest above Sherlock. He was like putty in John's hands. An agreeing hum sounding through the room as they turned. Becoming increasingly hot under the blankets and each other. Then it was gone. Sherlock let out a groan and thrust his hips slightly, trying to recapture John. John moved and lifted himself completely out of Sherlock's grasp, chuckling to himself. "Jaaawwwwn? Why? Come back." Sherlock had opened his eyes and was presenting John with the biggest puppy eyes he could muster. John stood next to the bed, looking down at the moaning detective.

John walked through to the bathroom. Leaving his pouting partner in bed. He brushed his teeth before moving to stand in front of the loo. Sherlock got up to stand in the doorway behind John, admiring from behind. His arms and legs crossed as he leant against the door frame. John tilts his head slightly so he could see behind. "Would you stop watching me piss?" It was more an order than a request, but the command was undercut by the light tone. He moved over to wash his hands. Still with wet hands, John was pulled back through to the bed room, both giggling like school boys.

***

"John, no." Sherlock kept grabbing hold of his partner, refusing to let him leave. Both of them dissolved into fits of laughter as Sherlock grabbed any part of John. He was pushed back down to the bed again, they laid next to each other, entangled. John gave a passionate kiss to Sherlock before jumping back up. They kept grabbing hold of each other, John trying to fight him off, Sherlock trying to keep them together.

"You ordered the food. I am not answering the door with no clothes." He picked up a pair of Sherlock's discarded joggers from the floor. As he lifted his leg to put them on, a hand stopped his leg. John looked down at Sherlock's face, his head hanging slightly off the edge of the bed. "Leave it for Mrs Hudson. She'll get it and bring it up. No scared delivery guy, and you keep on my favourite outfit." He said this with a smirk, withdrawing his hand so it can gently rest against his chest.

Much to his dismay though, John pulls the joggers on. He leans down and kisses Sherlock. "I am not answering the door to Mrs Hudson while naked either. We'll eat in bed if it means that much to you." His tone was teasing and they both knew it. That didn't stop Sherlock throwing in an overexaggerated pout, however.

The door knocked from downstairs and John swept away, grabbing a shirt and wallet before Sherlock could stop him. Sherlock listened to John's laughter and his feet on the stairs. Flopping back on the bed with a smile on his lips, laugh in his chest, and warmth in his heart.

***

Sherlock was laid, looking at John's sleeping form. He had woken about ten minutes previous, and immediately looked to his left. It had become his habit. He would wake up and look at the relaxed face next to him. He would either wake John, or curl up again with him, drifting off into his warmth. He silently vowed to memorise every detail on John's face. How it shifted with his many emotions. Every colour within his eyes. The many shades hidden within his hair. Not just on his head but also his beard - something Sherlock desperately wanted to see.

Sleep calling him back. He began to move back into John's arms when a small knock could be heard from the door. Mrs Hudson? No? Lestrade? Surely not? Client? Bloody hope not. Another knock, this one more sure. Next to him, John shifted slightly. Shit! John has to sleep so Sherlock can climb back in. He carefully withdraws, reluctantly. Casting another glance at John before opening his bedroom door.

A yawn rips through him as he walks to his door. He pulls it open to see a startled woman looking at him. Nervous, why? Startled? Oh right, naked, not important. Spent ages on her hair, in fact her entire appearance. Making an impression? A little confused, eyes looking behind him into the flat. Uncomfortable. Alcoholic, slight rim over lip and reddish complexion. Gay. Sherlock's rapid fire deductions come to a halt. Gay and alcoholic. He pushes the door open further, silently inviting the woman into the flat. He moves through to the kettle and pops it on as he walks back to his room.

He climbs back under the sheets. John's arms circle around him, humming as he settles against the cold body. Sherlock presses his face into the chest, breathing out. Becoming pliant under John's arms. "Hmm. John? Your sister is here." The body under him goes immediately tense. Sherlock shifts further into the body, trying to make it relax again so they can sleep.

"What?" His voice is hoarse with sleep, his muscles begin to flex as he prepares to get up. Sherlock groans and tries to settle further within John's chest. John's fingers begin to card through Sherlock's curls as he mentally wakes himself up. A yawn pushing past John's lips as his other hand moves to rub at his eyes.

The bedroom door opens and the familiar face of Harry Watson peaks through. Her eyes move around the room before it settles on the two men in bed. After seeing John, she steps further into the room. Moving closer to the bed, she sits on the side by Sherlock. Her eyes carry on with her inspection of the room. She turns towards her brother's confused face before her gaze drops to the man on his chest. Looking over the rest of the bed, she moves up so her back is resting on the headboard and her feet spread out in front of her.

Sherlock lifts his head at this and turns to look at her. They both glare at each other, mentally striping the other of all the information they can gather. John looks between them, unable to form words. Harry hums and looks back at John, Sherlock turns back and places his face back on the chest. "What are you doing here, Harry?"

"And by here he means, our bed" Sherlock mumbles against John's chest. Not doing his best at a first impression. Harry begins to glare daggers at the back of Sherlock's head, this is going well. Without her gaze wavering she says, "I wanted to meet the man my little brother was raving about. You don't happen to know where he is?" Oh god, this is not going well at all.

Sherlock begins to chuckle against John's skin. Not the exact reaction John had hoped for. The head raises to make eye contact with John. A playful smirk on his lips as his eyes dart over the face. "Oh John, been raving about me, huh? I'm touched, truly. I didn't know I meant that much." His smile grows with each word as he watches John's face becoming redder in the dim light. He was seemingly unaware of Harry right next to him as he leant forward to cover John's embarrassed smile.

A violent cough from beside them, broke them apart. "I'll put the tea on. You, put pants on." She pointed at the two men as she said this, moving to stand off the bed. She cast a smile their way from over her shoulder as she disappeared into the kitchen.