Watson-Locked

----------------------------------------------------------- Sherlock had been running himself wild, quite literally. He'd checked every which way he could for John. Yet, the man seemed to be no where. Not in his wildest dreams would he imagine John Watson would go missing and it not be the fault of the elder Holmes or worse, Moriarty. He made his way through the mass crowd around a particular tea shop that John was fond of. He recalled John telling him of the place. The Tea Palace, it was called. Predictable name, (It's got a million types of tea! Sherlock, they have Keiko Japanese Organic Green Tea!) He made a mental note to take John

 "Let's have some fun John." ************************************* John didn't agree at first. His lips were moving to form some words along the line of "I have a boyfriend" but stopped himself. Did he have a boyfriend? Obviously not. Sherlock hadn't wanted a relationship. He wanted sex. Sex and John. "Sure. You know what? Let's go have fun," he finally came up with, seeing no reason why not to. Anne seemed like a nice girl. Her face was soft and her body was softly cured, unlike Sherlock's harsh edges and alien-sharp elbows that dug into his back when he slept. Her face lit up and she took John's hand without a seconds notice, draggin

.**************************** "What are we Sherlock?" The detective unburied himself from John's chest and nuzzled against his neck, kissing gently at the war scar just over his shoulder. John squirmed a bit at the touch and turned to meet Sherlock's face, his eyes were closed and his curls where scrambled from the tugging of them during last night's activities. Two things he'd learned from a week of sleeping with this machine of a man were that, one, Sherlock talked in his sleep, (Though he was sure the detective himself didn't notice he'd often ramble on in other languages. John would never confront him about it, hearing Sherlock's v

...We need to talk. -JW  About what? Mycroft getting in your head? Don't pay any attention to that siding bloke. -SH Not just about that but yes, him too. We need to talk about the balcony. -JW What is there to talk about? What did happen or what almost happened? Clearly one of the two is bothering you. -SH A bit of both. I just want to know why it almost happened. -JW Why did you do...that? -JW Does the answer really have to be explained to you John? Or would you like to figure it out? Perhaps you'd rather I show you. -SH Show me? -JW Oh yes. I think you know what I'm talking of John, you aren't that daft. -SH Why don't you

     **************************************** John thumbed through the paper. He heard the door shut and the pacing of familiar, large footsteps, but had no desire to look up. He knew that he would lose it if he saw that man grin once more. The article was rather boring, some fireman rescuing a family pet of a sort from a burning building. John assumed that average people found that sort of thing fascinating, but upon living with Sherlock Holmes you create a new meaning to the word. "We're going out tonight, so stop moping. You'll get your room back in a day or two when it's safe to enter. But right now it is a bio hazard," came a deep th

****************************************************** The silence became too much too quickly. "Touch what, John? Touch..?" Sherlock began, running the tips of his fingers over John's thighs, emitting a quick gasp from the shorter man. The doctor bit his lips; he couldn't say it, no matter how bad he wanted it. Sherlock had been playing him and he'd have no more of it, but god he wanted to say those last words more than anything. Sherlock's expert fingers applied pressure to John's inner thigh, depriving another muffled moan from the ex-soldier. John quickly seized Sherlock's hand, pushing i back to the detective's chest and leaving it t