It started late one night. Sherlock came into John's room and stood in the door way until John scooted over and made a spot for Sherlock. Nothing was said, nothing happened, and they both went back to sleep. In the morning, John woke up with Sherlock's curls in his face, his arm thrown over his stomach, and their legs intertwined together. John didn't have enough courage to move because it would lead into waking Sherlock and he didn't have the heart to do that. He fell back asleep after a few minutes of playing with the soft curls that sat on top of Sherlock's head.
The soft noises of Sherlock waking up was when John did too. Sherlock shifted around a bit and stuck his face in the crook of his neck, sighing deeply. John just lay there, all the muscles in his body relaxed and a soft smile on his face.
This went on for days, week, even onto a few months. They never discussed what happened those nights in 221B Baker Street, they just went along with it, loving every moment they spent together tangled up under the bed sheets. Some mornings, when John would wake up first, he would sit a read, balancing the book in one hand and running his other hand softly through Sherlock's curls. Sometimes, Sherlock would wake up to the smell of eggs and the noise of John humming song tunes. He would walk out into the kitchen and sit down at the table, then John would set a plate in front of him along with a cup of tea and made sure that Sherlock ate every thing on his plate.
One late winter night when the two were snuggled up in front of the fire place after chasing a criminal through the snow covered streets of London, John said three simple words that made Sherlock the happiest man on the earth, "I love you". Sherlock sat up and looked John in the eyes asking if he really meant it, and John said he did. He gently cupped Sherlock's cheeks and slowly moved closer until their lips met and John could feel the sparks going off inside of Sherlock. The kiss got more heated as words were exchanged and touching took place.
"Please, John." Sherlock begged. "Take me to bed, please."
With those simple words, John go up and lead Sherlock to their bedroom, laying him ever so gently on the bed and kissing him every where as he removed the clothes off of his lover, biting and licking and kissing every where skin was exposed. Sherlock pulled John back up to his lips by the collar of his shirt, taking it off of him and feeling every inch of John's exposed torso.
John was gentle, treating Sherlock like he was a fragile piece of art, making sure that he wasn't hurting him and if what he was doing was alright. The whole time John was encouraging Sherlock to let his moans out, giving him small words like, "That's it baby," or "Let it all out". Sherlock's orgasm was loud enough for all of London to hear, it being his first. It was amazing what wonders and how much pleasure John got out by hearing Sherlock moan his name and every time Sherlock did, John felt like he was about to come. After they finished, they snuggled up together and fell asleep, not saying a word to each other, just soft kisses and gentle touches.
Sherlock woke by John leaving light kisses on his exposed body. He sighed happily and looked at John, soft blue eyes and how the morning light reflected off of them, his hair sticking up in all sorts of directions, and that little smile he gave Sherlock in the mornings that made Sherlock feel ten times better.
"Morning love." John whispered. "What would you like for breakfast?"
i wanted this to be longer but i just gave up