A/N: Sorry this has taken so long to get out. I've been writing it in dribs and drabs because I've been snowed under with work but I've finally had some time to sit down and write!

Thank you once again to all my wonderful reviewers (LongwoodLancer8, NebulousBlender, power0girl, crazycookBekah, Olivia-B52007, How Convenient, Cypress665 Kiyoshi and kissedangelzxxx). Some responses to particular reviews:

power0girl: Thank you for the advice on how to write Sherlock as emotionless but emotional. It's really helpful! Much like Spock, having Sherlock's emotions bound up in logic so they only appear to be non-existent is great. Thanks! :-)

Kiyoshi: Yep, grammatical pointers always welcome, thank you. I did spot a few myself after I'd uploaded the chapter but then didn't have time to correct them and replace it so I just ended up leaving them in but I'd be interested to see what you picked up on. If you don't want to leave it in a review, you can PM me! As for Irene Adler, I um-ed and ah-ed about this and then decided that (in my Sherlock universe at least) Lestrade would have at least a little knowledge of Adler. I figured that Mycroft would have debriefed him (under the Official Secrets Act of course) in order to explain the corpse-in-the-boot case that he had Sherlock investigating. Lestrade would know John was in on it so he'd be free to mention it to him. It's debatable, of course, but it suited my purposes for the handcuff gag so I went with it.

Kiyoshi (again) and LongwoodLancer8: Thank you for your feedback on Sherlock's tone/openness. Again, I um-ed and ah-ed about how easily Sherlock would spill his feelings to John and it was something I struggled with but then I decided that because he had been frightened by the fact that he could lose John (something which he considered to be his fault) he would be uncharacteristically open. I kind of saw his mentality being "I need to tell him now because he could have died without ever knowing tonight." I kind of compensated for the uncharacteristic openness by having him explain his feelings rather inarticulately and without the use of the L-word… Something which I don't think Sherlock would ever say out loud, however much he might think it. I plan to work a bit of this into this chapter so hopefully it should all make sense.

Anyway, after that epic author's note, here's Chapter Five! As ever, rated M for language and sexiness. And there is proper rude sexiness in this chapter so if you don't like, don't read!

Back From The Dead Because Of You

Chapter Five

John had only been kept in hospital for a couple of days to make sure there was no further damage from the stab wound. Once the doctors gave him the all-clear, he was free to return to Baker Street on the condition that he take it easy for a few weeks, not do any strenuous exercise and start to see a physiotherapist.

On returning home, John had been worried about how his and Sherlock's relationship might have changed now that they were officially a couple but he needn't have concerned himself. Sherlock was the same old annoying prick, it was just now he was John's annoying prick. They worked on cases (although none that required chasing after criminals for now), bickered and drank tea same as before. The only difference was that now they sat a bit closer together when working and occasionally indulged in steamy kisses. They hadn't started sharing a bedroom yet, nor had they told anyone about their relationship.

John didn't want to put pressure on Sherlock. The whole relationship thing was new to the detective – never mind the physical side – and John didn't want to frighten him so that he clammed up completely. He had got the feeling that Sherlock was almost embarrassed by his outburst in the hospital and John guessed that the detective had felt exposed by laying his feelings bare like that. So, John was there to let him know it was OK, that he would be there no matter what, by doing everything on Sherlock's terms.

Plus, there was something beautiful and highly erotic in taking things slowly. The first couple of days out of the hospital they hadn't so much as kissed. They touched each other perhaps more than they ordinarily would have but that was about it. Then, when John had been home three or four days, he had felt up to blogging about the Jane Austen Murders, leaving out, of course, the exquisite finale in the hospital. Sherlock had stood behind him, watching him type before leaning down and kissing the back of the doctor's neck. John had turned his head slightly to look at the detective who proceeded to bring his lips to John's in a slow, chaste kiss that lasted mere seconds but felt like twelve lifetimes. Neither Sherlock or John said anything and the doctor returned to his blog, a beaming grin plastered across his face. The next day, John had decided to kiss Sherlock, cornering him as he left the bathroom after his morning shower. He smelt of peppermint and soap and John couldn't resist placing a chaste kiss on the dark-haired man's lips. He let Sherlock take the lead as the detective slipped his arms round John's waist and drew him closer (but not too close) as their lips glided over each other's. Day by day, the kisses got longer and more passionate until now, nearly four weeks on, they were leaving John breathless, aroused and having to restrain himself from ripping all of Sherlock's clothes off and fucking him into the room below.

It was also kind of exciting keeping the relationship a secret. This wasn't because John or Sherlock were ashamed or embarrassed, more that John didn't want the rest of the world interfering – that would be something else to put pressure on Sherlock – and Sherlock wanted his private life to stay private. John figured that Mycroft and their friends – Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and Molly – would find out eventually but he wasn't in any rush to announce it. It was nice to have something that just belonged to him and his detective and he enjoyed the giddy rush that came from letting his hand "accidentally" and discretely brush Sherlock's as they examined a crime scene together.

As far as talking about their relationship went, they hadn't discussed it any further since leaving the hospital. John knew Sherlock's feelings and Sherlock knew John's – John didn't see that there was any more to say. He knew that Sherlock wasn't the type to say "I love you" and John wasn't going to make him feel obligated by saying it to him. Anyway, what was the point? Sherlock surely could deduce how John felt just by looking at him. John knew that this wasn't a relationship that was going to end in a proposal and a civil partnership. They weren't going to be adopting babies and buying a house in the suburbs. That wasn't Sherlock, and John was fine with that. He was happy just being with the man and he didn't need all those other things. Why would he? Their lives were exciting enough as they were. John did often muse that perhaps that was the reason Sherlock had never been in a relationship before, that no one else understood his lack of romanticism, mistaking it instead for a lack of commitment or emotion. But John accepted it wholeheartedly and knew that he didn't need verbal reassurances, a ring, a mortgage or a baby to know that Sherlock Holmes loved him as much as he could love anyone.

So, here they were a month on, colleagues, friends and partners, and John was happier than he had ever been in his life before. Everything was right with the world. He had his detective and his detective had his blogger.


Sherlock was in torment. He had initially been delighted when John had said they could take things slowly but it had been a month now and he desperately wanted to move things along and he didn't know how to let John know. He was not good at vocalising his feelings. It had taken John nearly being killed for him to tell him he cared for him as more than a friend and for days afterwards Sherlock had been mortified that he had exposed himself so thoroughly. He definitely appreciated that John was taking things slowly for his benefit, it just reaffirmed to him that there was no one in the world quite like his blogger, but now he wanted things to progress and he just didn't know what to do.

He knew it'd be easy enough to palm John's erection through the thick denim of his jeans during one of their more exciting kisses, to take his hand and lead him seductively to the bedroom, but what then? Would he ask John to teach him? Or would he attempt to take the lead himself, unsure if he was even doing it right? Sherlock hated doubting himself. It was an unfamiliar sensation and not a pleasant one. And especially when it came to sex, the most natural thing two people could do together. If Sherlock was truly being honest, his fears over "doing it right" were just his way of not having to admit that he was scared of the loss of control that arousal and orgasm brought. Lately he had been bringing himself to orgasm almost every day after his and John's kisses ended in breathy "we-should-stops" and he both craved and dreaded what it brought. All rational thought vanished and he was just overwhelmed by sensation. It felt amazing, but for a mind like Sherlock's it was also terrifying. And if he could achieve that by himself then what could John do to his brain?

That said, John made him feel safe, protected, loved. John would surely know what sex could do to someone like Sherlock and go out of his way to keep him safe. John would keep him grounded – whisper reassuring nothings in his ear even as he told Sherlock to come for him.

The thought was not displeasing.

Sherlock glanced up from John's computer which he had "borrowed" in order to look up the security system supposedly protecting several households that had been burgled in the last two weeks. John was standing at the kitchen sink, rinsing out the mugs they had been drinking from not ten minutes earlier. The burglaries can wait, thought Sherlock, shutting down the computer and getting up. He walked up behind John, slipped his arm's round the shorter man's waist and kissed the side of his throat. John relaxed in his arms and let out a small moan. Encouraged, Sherlock turned him around and brought their lips together.

Their lips moved over each other effortlessly – they were both getting rather good at this – and Sherlock decided to take the lead by slipping his tongue into the doctor's mouth, exploring that hot, wet space as John battled him for dominance. Sherlock pinned John back against the kitchen counter and sucked his bottom lip into his own mouth, probing it gently with his tongue as he felt John's hands running up and down his back, occasionally dipping low enough to caress the top of the detective's arse, pulling animalistic moans from him. It's now or never, thought Sherlock, while he was still capable of coherent thought, and brought a hand round to John's front, palming his positively enormous erection through his jeans. He felt John tense up and he pulled out of the kiss.

"Is this OK?" Sherlock whispered.

John smiled. "Of course it's OK, idiot. It's just… Well… Are you sure?"


"Well then, it's OK."

Sherlock pulled John back into the kiss and continued his ministrations on the bulge in his jeans. John moaned into his mouth, murmuring against his lips, "There's so much I want to do to you…"

Sherlock pulled back and smiled. "You'd better show me then." And with that, he took John's hand and led him to his bedroom.


John had been shocked when he first felt Sherlock's hand against his cock. He had never expected the other man to take the lead like that but he wasn't complaining. In fact, after a few more seconds it had felt like Sherlock's hand had no business being anywhere but on his cock. And now here they were, in Sherlock's bedroom, facing each other and breathing heavily, both knowing what came next but neither seemingly able to start. And then John knew… He just knew. Sherlock touching him like that had been his way of letting John know he was ready to go further, but now it was John's turn to take the lead.

The doctor closed the gap between him and Sherlock, sliding his arms round his waist and sucking gently on his lower lip. John thought he might be developing a fetish for Sherlock's lower lip. He didn't feel satisfied lately unless a kiss ended with Sherlock's lower lip looking swollen and positively abused. He didn't see why this time had to be any different. He experimentally rocked his hips forward, brushing their straining erections against each other and was rewarded by a low groan from the world's only consulting detective. He deepened the kiss, walking Sherlock backwards until the detective's legs hit the edge of the bed and he was forced to lie down, pulling John on top of him.

John broke the kiss and looked down into his lover's eyes. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Of course I'm sure, John." John smiled. Sherlock might sound his usual arrogant self but the doctor could hear the slight waver in his voice.

"We're going to take it slow." John saw Sherlock get ready to argue so John quickly interjected, lowering his head and speaking quietly, his voice almost a growl, in the younger man's ear. "We're still going to do stuff, Sherlock. Trust me, I'm going to make you come so hard you won't know what's hit you. But we're not going to do everything. We've got the rest of our lives for that and, to be honest, you've got me so turned on I'm not going to last long enough."

John began to slowly kiss and lick that sensitive spot where Sherlock's jaw met his earlobe, murmuring against the skin, "We've got the rest of our lives for blow jobs and rimming and fingers and fucking and handcuffs and sixty-nines and blindfolds and toys and all those other things I know you've been looking up on the internet." A light flush spread across the detective's face and John knew he'd hit home. "So there's no need to rush, Sherlock, there's no need to do all those things on your first time." John lightly nipped the skin of the detective's neck with his teeth, eliciting a moan from the man. "I know you're scared. I know you're not sure how to cope with the way sex makes you lose control. So I'm going to show you exactly how good it can be. With me. One." Kiss. "Step." Lick "At a time." Bite.

John heard Sherlock cry out his name beneath him and the doctor laved the skin he had just marked with his tongue before bringing his mouth back to Sherlock's.


Sherlock kissed back with enthusiasm, letting his tongue slip and slide over John's, groaning as the older man's hands moved up the sides of his shirt. Hearing John quietly murmur all of those delicious sounding sex acts against his neck, hearing him say they'd do them, hearing him say they could spend the rest of their lives together, it did things to Sherlock. The detective felt his fear leave him. John would take care of him.

"We're not nearly naked enough…" John growled against his lips and Sherlock smiled as he felt the doctor's hands move to his shirt buttons. The detective reciprocated, tugging John's jumper and t-shirt over his head, before letting his hands wander to the fly of the older man's jeans, feeling his lover do the same. They were naked in no time, John straddling the detective, and Sherlock took a moment to admire the muscular body of the former soldier. It was toned and fit but not bulging with obscenely big muscles and Sherlock decided very quickly that he liked it. He also very much liked John's long, thick cock which stood erect, not quite touching his own throbbing member. He realised he was unconsciously licking his lips and saw John smile down at him.

"You're gorgeous, Sherlock Holmes."

"You're… You're…" Sherlock found himself unable to articulate exactly how attractive John was so instead reached out a pale hand and trailed it down the former soldier's stomach. John seemed to understand though and, in response, leaned down and began to kiss Sherlock again, letting their erect cocks brush together. Sherlock had never felt anything like it and he groaned into John's mouth as the delicious friction caused coloured lights to pop behind his eyelids. He let his hands trail up and down John's back, scratching him lightly with his fingernails as the doctor moaned loudly, dipping his head to take one of Sherlock's nipples into his mouth, sucking it hard.

"Oh, God! John… Yes!" He felt John smile against his skin before gently biting the hard flesh. He let out an animalistic roar and felt himself flipping them over so that he was straddling the good doctor, desperate to make John feel even half as good as he was feeling. He gave an experimental thrust, brushing his erection over John's and feeling pleased as the blonde man let out a loud expletive followed by the detective's name. He scratched his fingernails down over John's chest, gently tweaking his nipples and enjoying the incoherent, loud moans coming from the man's mouth. Continuing his thrusting, he lowered his head and began to suck on a nipple, running his tongue over it and pinching the other between his finger and thumb.

"You are a fast learner…" John panted between groans.

"I've got an excellent teacher." There was something intensely erotic about looking into John's eyes while rhythmically brushing their cocks together but Sherlock knew that if he was going to come he needed more friction, more pressure.

As if reading his mind, John moved and Sherlock found himself lying on his back again, John straddling him, wrapping a rough hand around both of their cocks and stroking. Coherent thought was disappearing fast and Sherlock was beginning to see stars. He knew he wasn't going to last long but he wanted to be part of this. He wanted to have a part in making John come, making John scream his name. As John began to lean forward, Sherlock slid his own hand between them and entwined his fingers in John's, curling his own hand around their erections and meeting John's steady rhythm.

"Oh, yes! Sherlock that feels incredible!"

Sherlock was beyond words at this point. He was aware of a series of moans, groans, growls and other indistinguishable noises emitting from his lips but he could no longer control them. The feeling of John's skin on his was all he could concentrate on, that and the growing sense of pressure building in the pit of his stomach.

"John, I'm going to –"

"Me too! Oh, God, Sherlock!"

Sherlock felt like the world was exploding as he was wracked by the most amazing orgasm he had ever felt. Rope after rope of come shot from his and John's cocks, landing all over his hand and his stomach. Above him, John was screaming expletives and Sherlock's name so loud that half of London must know they were lovers by now.

As they came down from their mutual orgasm, sweaty and breathless, John shocked Sherlock by sweeping his rough tongue up the detective's torso, licking him clean of their come. It was such an intense, intimate thing to do and if Sherlock had had the energy, he knew it would have turned him on all over again. Instead he pulled John's face to his and kissed him deeply, tasting them both on his tongue and wondering if they tasted this good separately or was it only together? He would have to test that on a future occasion.

"That was amazing, Sherlock." John was smiling, laughing even. "Are you sure it was your first time?"

Sherlock laughed. "Positive, John. I am, though, looking forward to being taught more by the good doctor."

John brushed a stray damp curl away from Sherlock's forehead and kissed the skin there. "All in good time, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock couldn't wait.

A/N: I'm not sure about this chapter, possibly because I had to write it a little bit at the time. But, as ever, I look forward to your reviews. Not sure how long it'll take for me to get another chapter up, but please be patient with me! There are probably loads of spelling and grammar mistakes too but I just want to get this published. Will go back and revise when I have more time! :-)