"Master," I said in greeting as I walked into the living room.
It had been two years since Sherlock punished me for that first dreadful time. Since then things haven't been the same. Every time I look in the mirror I am reminded that I am a slave, I'm not equal to everyone else; I am practically furniture, no I am furniture. The first few months were the worst but this past year things have been different. Every time Sherlock looks at me I see a strange look in his eyes that he quickly hides. It reminded me of when I was a teenager, chasing after girls, a look of lust but restraint.
In the back my mind I pondered what this could mean, does he have a thing for me, is it just my imagination, am I interpreting this the wrong way? If it was only lust then he could take me whenever he wanted because to the world I was little more than furniture; I would become a pleasure slave if my master asked for it and I would have no say, as always. The puzzling thing was that he hasn't taken me yet so could that mean he cares? These thoughts and more go through my head every time I look at Sherlock but as always I dismiss them knowing even if I was correct, nothing would ever come of it. I was a slave and he was my master; any other relationship would just be wrong. Every time I dismiss the thoughts but before I do I ask myself the same question. Do I reciprocate the feelings? And even though I try not to answer, my reply is always the same.
Yes.
Each time I tell myself I'm mad. How can I feel that way for someone who beats me and owns me?
After I spoke, Sherlock turned to face me with that look but as always he quickly hides it. He knew it was wrong just as much as I did, although social convention never stopped him in the past so what was holding him back? Society only prevents a relationship. There was nothing holding him back from having his way with me. This was all very confusing.
"Hello John, I don't want anything to eat but feel free to get yourself something." Sherlock said to me turning away.
I expected him to say as much, he rarely ever ate anyway, so I headed into the kitchen to make myself something knowing that if I didn't and my stomach rumbled Sherlock would get grumpy at the 'distracting noises'. I decided against anything complicated or anything that would require more than 5 minutes to make. Grabbing a bowl I made myself some cereal, quickly ate it, and washed up so I didn't have to do it later.
The day went on as usual and I stayed invisible like a good little slave. That was until Sherlock got up without a word at the end of the day and grabbed his coat to go out. I followed him silently and ignored the disgusted looks thrown at me by strangers on the street as they notice my collar. I was so used to it by now that I barely noticed them anymore. I was confused when Sherlock walked into a bar and ordered alcohol.
I was so taken aback that I actually decided to speak out of turn.
"What are you doing, Master?" I asked looking at him concerned. Sherlock ignored me. I decided it was not my place and stepped back. Sherlock knew full well what he was getting himself into and I wouldn't be able to stop him.
I raised an eyebrow when he downed his first glass immediately and got a refill but I stayed in my place even though I was itching to stop him.
One hour later Sherlock was completely drunk and I decided that that was enough. He was so drunk he probably wouldn't even stop me taking him home and stepping out of line.
"Okay, Sherlock. I think you have had enough." I knew I shouldn't call him by his given name but I didn't want to remind him that I was just his slave, that would only make my life difficult.
"Oh hi John," He replying slurring his words, "I didn' know you were there. You were so silent even a teeny tiny li'le mouse would have been lou'er."
The way he said it made it hard for me to stifle a laugh but I managed to contain myself.
"We really aught to go home," I said to him. All I got was a curt little nod from him before he swung himself around and headed to the door. Well at least that was what it looked like he was trying to do but it didn't really turn out like that. He swung himself around and moved one foot forward but he lost his balance and landed on me.
"Alright," I said with a sigh and put his arm around my neck and put my hand on his waist to support him.
I paid for the drinks with money from his pocket and we slowly made our way outside and towards the apartment; I had to practically drag him for all the help he was giving me.
"D'you know the value of pie?" He asked still slurring his words. Before I could do anything he continued, "It's 3.141592653589793238462643..." I knew I couldn't stop him so I let him drone on in his drunken state until we got back to the apartment and into his room.
"Okay Sherlock, time for..." Before I could even finish my sentence he collapsed on the bed and went straight to sleep. Sighing I undressed him and went to leave.
"John," I heard him say behind me. I turned around to reply but he was fast asleep. "John, I love you. Don't leave me John," he continued so I decided to stay for a bit. He would never tell me things like this when fully conscious.
"Sherlock, I'm here," I said prompting him. I didn't really expect him to reply, he was asleep after all.
"Good John. I wanted to tell you that I... I love you and I have since I first saw you but I ignored it. Then when you ran away it hurt me, but I didn't know. Then I got angry and hurt you back but I still didn't understand why I was hurting you which is strange because I'm smarter than everyone. Then a little while ago I understood and wanted you but I didn't want to hurt you again. Also being in that sort of relationship would effect my mental capacity, I would have to delete some stuff, not to mention that it would distract me from solving... stuff. I wanted to forget for a little while, just your presence was too distracting." He said unconsciously and rolled over. I heard an intake of breath and thought he was going to say something else but then I heard a snore and realised that was all I would get out of him.
I left the room quietly and carefully shut the door behind me not wanting to disturb Sherlock. I headed to my room and sat on my bed in thought. Did he really mean it? He can't love me. For one we are both men but then again when has Sherlock ever done something considered normal. If anything he tries to do the complete opposite. I suppose it is only natural that he would love someone in a way that went against social conventions; even though it is a little bit more normal now, meaning loving another man was no longer illegal but loving a slave on the other hand was. I sighed and laid down; I could think about it more in the morning.
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I woke up the next morning and walked into the living room. I was surprised to see it was empty, Sherlock never slept that long. I sighed and made two cups of coffee, tea had less caffeine so wouldn't work as well. I grabbed a mug and went to Sherlock's bedroom.
"Master?" I asked through the door but there was no reply. I rolled my eyes and went inside. "I have coffee," I informed him and was relieved when he sat up and accepted it. A memory of undressing came unbidden into my mind and I felt the blood rush to my face. I very quickly left the room and hoped that he hadn't noticed. He can't have seen that, he has a hangover.
About 10 minutes later Sherlock came out of the bedroom with his hand up to block out the light. He stumbled over to the curtains and shut them darkening the room slightly.
"My head, John?" Sherlock said and I knew what he was asking for. I walked to the cupboard and pulled out the paracetamol. I turned around to find his eyes fixed on me. Once again I felt my face warm up and I ignored it but I could tell Sherlock noticed, he cocked his head slightly but said nothing. I walked over and passed him the paracetamol. Before I could turn away he grabbed my wrist and looked into my eyes, in my position I knew I shouldn't but I stared back and lost myself in them. I felt my heart beat speed up and suddenly my trousers became slightly too tight. That did not help my situation and I felt my cheeks heat up even more. I could tell he was looking into my pupils to see if they dilated, he did the same thing with Irene and I hoped against hope that my body wouldn't betray me. Of course, since when did any of us have control over our bodies to such a degree.
A moment later Sherlock let go and I turned away quickly to make myself some cereal keeping my back to Sherlock in the hope he wouldn't see my erection.
"John, I want you to know that my mind is still better than anyone with or without a hangover. Even when I'm drunk I live in a world of goldfish so I can certainly tell you are aroused." This was so unexpected that I dropped the spoon I was holding.
"I-I-I um..." I stuttered unsure of what to say. He walked over to me with a confused look.
"The only thing I don't understand is what suddenly brought this about. I remember everything I said last night so it can't of been something I said or did to bring this about unless..." He droned off in thought then walked even closer so we were barely a foot apart, we were so close I could feel his breath on my face. "You put me to bed. Did I say something in my sleep?"
"You said you loved me, Sherlock," I said quietly, looking into his eyes. It was the first open act of defiance in months but I didn't care. He wanted to know what he said so I told him.
"Thank you John," He said then walked away.
"Did you mean it?" I asked while I still had the nerve, "Do you... love me, Master?" I had my eyes trained on him. I needed to hear it.
"WELL?" I asked, almost yelling, storming up to him and spinning him around forcefully.
"John, pain setting 4" Sherlock said quickly, his eyes narrowing. I was immediately hit with pain and dropped to my knees. I gritted my teeth against the agony, hands against my head, and rode it out. I heard Sherlock speak over me, "Could you perhaps be a little bit quieter?" He asked with his eyes tightly shut. "Pain off" I heard him say after, I sighed and caught my breath. Once I had recovered, I stood back up and faced him.
I decided to ignore what had happened. I needed to speak, it was now or never. "Well," I started, purposely forgetting my place, "I love you," I said in a whisper. I hadn't thought Sherlock had heard but a second later he had closed the little distance between us and his lips were on my mouth. This contrasted so much with his forceful, strict, Master persona, that it gave me a bit of whiplash.
I felt Sherlock's hand lift my chin up. I was so shocked I froze but he pried my lips open with his and I snapped to my senses. Before I knew it I was kissing him back. I couldn't recall when I decided to kiss him but I was. We both fought for dominance, a battle of the tongues in a fight; but it wasn't just that. It was a dance perfectly choreographed and beautiful in its entirety. Okay since did I start thinking like that?
Sherlock pulled away and looked me in the eyes. "John, I am your Master but I'm not going to order you to do this. If you want to then understand that I must have control over all things and I will not tolerate insubordination because as soon as you say yes, you are mine. I want you completely and this is and will be the only time I will ask."
"Gods, yes," I said and pulled him down to me to show I meant it.
He needed no more prompting. He crushed his lips into mine and I gave into him kissing him back.
"Go into my room," Sherlock ordered.
"Yes, Master," I replied dutifully and headed into his room and a few minutes later Sherlock joined me carrying a bag. "What's that?" I asked curiously and as I expected I was ignored.
Sherlock walked over to me and pushed me onto the bed pinning my arms above my head and kissed me. I kissed him back but reflexively struggled against his grip causing him to lean on me, completely pinning me to the bed. Being submissive like this wasn't my strong suit and I fought to gain dominance and I could tell Sherlock liked my struggle because as he leaned into me I felt a lump between his legs push against me.
He suddenly broke off from the kiss leaving me breathless on the bed.
"You have no idea what you have agreed to." He said with a really out of character growl.
"Then show me," I said seriously.