I'm back with more Johnlock. I guess that anxiety about my exams gives me inspiration. What can I say?
People, I have some special news, so pay attention. Publishers hoping to ride the Fifty Shades of Grey craze for so-called "mommy porn" are sexing up Pride and Prejudice, along with other great works of English literature. Why am I telling you this? Because one of the classic books that are remade is A Study in Scarlet, with Sherlock and John as gay lovers. Yes, it's happening. Johnlock porn published in a book!
Now, about the story. Sherlock is a bit dark. It's set somewhere after 1x02. No beta read, and English is not my native language.
It was yet another boring day. The consulting detective felt the boredom consume him, felt the ennui eat him away. A man of his intellect should not allow that. His brain was rotting.
There were no cases for him to solve. Any client who had showed up at 221B Baker Street in the hopes of being helped had nothing interesting to say. Sherlock would give anything for a good case.
His mind wandered to the mysterious Moriarty. Who was that man and just how far could he go? When would Sherlock finally meet him and what would happen then?
Sherlock felt like smoking. Hell, he really needed to smoke. It was one of these days that he could not resist the temptation.
He rose from the sofa in order to search for his cigarettes. It was only then that he realized that it was not day at all. Night had descended to the world, covering everything with its dark cloak.
And John was not back.
Sherlock knew that John had gone out on a date with his new irritating girlfriend, Sheila. Or, Sarah. Yes, Sarah, that was the name. But why hadn't he returned? For a moment Sherlock entertained the idea of John having been kidnapped, nevertheless it soon dawned on him that the blogger had most likely managed to get into that Sarah's bed and would spend the night at her place.
A beast roared inside Sherlock. An impossible rage, such as he had never experienced before, took over him. He was certain that the realisation was the cause of that, but he could not quite understand why.
His great mind finally found the answer, although it was a situation that he was not familiar with: he was jealous. Jealousy was the reason for his fury. He did not want that Sarah to be with John, his John. John belonged to him, to no one else.
Sherlock groaned, a rather primitive sound. Sarah should get her hands off John, or things would not end well for her.
Sherlock woke up early in the morning. He had managed to sleep only thanks to cocaine. The sweet drug had flowed through his veins, delivering him to peaceful sleep. Now, however, he was wide awake.
And John was still not at home.
He tried to take his mind off that by finding shelter to his chemistry set. He was so unfocused that he almost blew the entire flat up. He decided to let it go and lay on the sofa.
Finally, John appeared. The whole room lit up, but Sherlock pretended that he had not even noticed his presence. He had his pride to think of.
"Good morning," John said cheerfully. His hair was just a little messy and he looked happy - yes, intercourse with Shirley. Sarah.
"Hm? Oh yes, good morning," Sherlock said indifferently.
"Um, are you okay?"
"Fine," Sherlock replied and yawned. "Why shouldn't I be?"
John looked at him for a while, studying him, trying to discover the truth. In the end, he seemed convinced. "Nothing."
"Where have you been? Did you get milk?"
"Um, no, I..." John looked, most likely blushing. "I spent the night at Sarah's."
Sherlock shot out of the sofa as quickly as a bullet at the mention of that woman's name. He did not want to hear it from John's mouth again. It was not worthy to be spoken by his blogger.
John looked at Sherlock strangely as the tall man approached him. "Are you sure nothing is wrong?" he asked considerately.
"Do you like her, John?"
John blinked. Obviously he had not expected a question about his personal life from Sherlock. He did not know why Sherlock actually was interested in that part of his life. "Um, yes. Yes, I do."
Sherlock tried not to sigh or groan or make any sort of noise that would indicate how he felt. He felt betrayed and bitter. But above all, he was angry.
Sherlock was being his usual self the rest of the day. He was not being normal. Normal considering that it was Sherlock Holmes.
Fortunately for the detective, John did not go out with Sarah that night. Even better, he was not in the least suspicious of Sherlock's behaviour earlier that day.
At some point, Sherlock stood up and put his long coat on. "Where are you going?" John asked, curious.
"At St. Bart's. Molly has a corpse for me."
"Oh. Tell her I say hi."
Sherlock smiled. "I will. Don't worry, I won't be long."
Sherlock did not go to St. Bart's. He did not even go near it. He had no corpse to examine and no reason to see Molly Hooper. He had another person in mind.
He had done a very good and thorough research considering John's new girlfriend. He even knew that Sarah passed a dark little road on her way home even though it was dangerous. That was Sherlock's chance.
He waited for her, merging in the shadows, not making a sound. He knew that she would turn up soon enough.
And, as sure as sunrise, she did. Sherlock grabbed her and covered her mouth with his gloved hand immediately so that she would not scream. When he let her see his face and she relaxed, he slowly removed his hand.
"Sherlock!" she breathed. "You scared me! What are you doing here?"
"Criminal activity has seriously risen around here, so I wanted to make sure that you would return home safely."
Sarah smiled. The fool had fallen for it. "Thank you," she said. "I know that you are doing this for John and not for me, but thanks anyway."
"Yes, I'm doing this for John," he whispered dangerously and covered Sarah's mouth with his hand again. Then, he took the knife out of his coat pocket and stabbed her.
When Sherlock returned to 221B Baker Street, John was awake and typing something at his laptop. He turned around as Sherlock took off his coat and shot out of his seat like an arrow, going to Sherlock immediately. He covered his mouth with his hand and his eyes widened.
"Oh god! Sherlock, what happened to you? Are you all right?"
"Oh, I am more than just all right!" Sherlock replied delightfully. "Nothing happened to me."
John looked at Sherlock's white shirt disbelievingly. There were blood stains on it. Then, he looked up at Sherlock. He was clearly worried. "But..."
"Oh, that's not my blood. It's Sarah's."
John blinked rapidly. "What?"
"Sarah. Your girlfriend. I killed her."
John gasped. His eyes widened once again. "Sherlock, what are you saying?"
"I killed her."
"God! Sherlock, what the hell were you thinking? Have you lost your mind?"
Unlike John, Sherlock was perfectly calm. "Come now, John. You've done it too; you killed that cabbie."
"That was different! I was SAVING YOU!"
"AND I WAS SAVING US!"
John stopped short immediately. He looked at Sherlock, breathing heavily. He opened his mouth, yet no word came out. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What...what are you saying?"
"You liked her, John," Sherlock explained patiently, as if he was trying to teach a lesson about the big bad world to a child. "And she liked you. She was trying to get between us. I could not allow that to happen." He held John's kind face between his hands. "Don't you see? You belong with me, John. With me, no one else."
John stared at the consulting detective. He looked numb. "I...I'll tell the police."
A smug smile spread across Sherlock's handsome face. "No, you won't. You are shocked right now, but you won't tell anyone."
John began to compose himself. "And why not?"
Sherlock leaned in to John. "Because you want me," he whispered against John's lips.
He gave the doctor one second to register what was happening, what was going to happen. Then he kissed him full on the mouth. It was not a tender kiss. He had wanted to do this for so long that his hunger took over. At first John did nothing. He tensed against Sherlock but did not move.
Sherlock's hands moved from John's face to John's waist. He pulled the shorter man really close to him until they were glued to each other. And then, John's lips began to move against Sherlock's. He kissed Sherlock back with equal fervor and placed his hands on the consulting detective's shoulders.
They broke the kiss when air became much needed. Their lips were already swollen because of the intensity of the kiss, and they were breathing fast. They looked deeply into each other's eyes and Sherlock smiled.
"You're mine," he whispered in John's ear and licked his ear shell, worrying the lobe between his teeth.
"Yes," John breathed.
And - THE END! I really enjoyed writing it! I hope you enjoyed reading it. If so, how about some feedback? :)