Hello reader dears! It is us once more: ClassicalTorture and SeaStoneChair. We are here with a prequel to The Bar, our other story, already posted. It gives a bit of a background to John and Sherlock's relationship up to the point where The Bar begins, and also helps to explain some of their further behavior. Just like always we do not own Sherlock, all of the rights belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, and Steven Moffat. Enjoy!

John sat on his bed and let out a big sigh. It was a long day. Sherlock acting up and just… being himself all day. It was cumbersome to deal with. They had just closed a case and the man was absolutely delighted. Which meant that while Sherlock was on this short high, he was an absolute mess. He was all over the place and boasting. About everything. John glanced at the clock. 2 a.m. Still he couldn't get to sleep. His thoughts were on what the next case would be and if it endangered Sherlock's life like usual. John opened his phone and started to type. "You still awake? JW" Sent to Sherlock.

"Yes John!" was screamed from the living room at full lung capacity. Sherlock was lying on the sofa, slumped in a surprisingly compact ball, dressed in his blue pajamas and silk robe. His mind was whirling a thousand miles a second, every thought dedicated to a different thing. Tonight's main feeling was that of a satisfaction at a case well solved, and he knew that John will try to feed him. He wasn't all that disappointed at the thought. John had slowly been getting him used to feeding at more regular intervals, and sometimes Sherlock's mind jumped to assumptions of manipulative nature, but after seeing John's cuddly figure in one of his jumpers it calmed and simply quietly enjoyed the attention.

John almost rolled his eyes. He should have expected that. Climbing out of his bed, he pulled a plaid cotton robe on over his pajama pants and tied it before heading downstairs. Once there, his eyes fell upon a curled up Sherlock. Sometimes he couldn't handle how stupidly cute Sherlock looked. Honestly he couldn't believe he thought that at all.

"I'm sure you woke Mrs. Hudson up from your shouting," John said quietly as if he could also wake her up with his words. He padded over to the kitchen and opened the fridge, ignoring whatever human parts may or may not be hidden away in there. After making tea and grabbing a box of cookies form the cabinet he walked over to Sherlock and sat down in his usual chair across from the curled up man.

Sherlock sniffed and his nose filled with the aroma of expertly made tea, and crunchy pastry that seemed to be more and more common to his nose around John. He turned his head, took in his flat mate and decided to roll over completely. His long body stretched across the span of the whole sofa and one arm was hanging off.

"Did you need something, John?" Asked Sherlock while looking at the other man. His eyes swept over the comfortable attire and paused momentarily on the small amount of skin visible just above the collar of John's robe. Then they continued on, as if nothing caught their attention, stopping finally at his eyes with a questioning look.

John handed Sherlock a cup of tea and quickly took a sip form his own as Sherlock stretched like a cat. John tried not to image the lean, taunt muscles under that silk robe contracting and expanding. He hoped that the cup had masked his facial expression enough to hide from his detective friend.

"I couldn't sleep and you never seem to sleep…" John started. He passed a cookie over to Sherlock. "This case today just made me think. You really like the satisfaction of being able to outsmart everyone in the room." He rose an eyebrow at the man on the couch. "And you really like rubbing it in my face."

Sherlock looked at the cookie and sniffed it. He proceeded to open up the double biscuit and started to lap at the vanilla filling inside of it. Then he raised his eyes at John and said: "I am merely pointing the obvious to the rest of the world John. I know I'm smarter, do not see any reason to hide it, and we both know that they are all idiots." As he said it Sherlock kept pausing to occasionally lick his cookie, never once taking his eyes off his flat mate.

"At the same time you are no doubt aware that I place your level of intellect and understanding far above those around me. And if you weren't then you are now." He finished, taking the first bite out of the crumbling sweetness.

John could feel the tips of his ears turn red as he watched Sherlock lick the inside of his pastry. God this man was devilish. "I was aware. But I am also aware of how you get your kicks." He ran a hand through his blonde hair to distract himself from the appealing man in front of him.

"Sherlock, why were you so interested in this case? It was a very easy case to solve without you, even for the police. You were so intent on studying her high heels…" John trailed off and tilted his head to the side a bit in question. Sherlock had seemed very interested in her shoes. John had just now made that realization. It seemed strange, but everything seemed strange with Sherlock.

Sherlock's eyes followed John's hand as it swept across his short hair, and for a second imagined it being his own. Pushing that thought away, into a file to be looked and dissected later, he contemplated on the answer. "John do you remember when I said that sex doesn't scare me?"

John's eyes narrowed in questioning. "Yes… but what does that have to do with anything?" He was more curious to the answer than nervous. Everything with Sherlock was surprise and this was just one of those interesting quirks about the man. John put his cup of tea on the table in front of him and focused his full attention on Sherlock.

"As a healthy man I am sure you are aware that almost every individual has a set of attributes that arouse a particular… reaction in them. Some can be as easy as seeing another person naked, other may require auditory, sensory or modified sensation," said Sherlock tracing his eyes of the flat in a decisively bored manner. "I happen to have a combined need to get aroused. It is yet to manifest into anything as I have, for quite the long time, been married to my work."

John stared at Sherlock in silence for a moment. His brain was trying hard to keep up with the topic but it changed from heels to sex to… well Sherlock's arousal. His eyes flicked down from Sherlock's face to the rest of the man's body, trying to read something other than disinterest boredom.

"And?" John prompted. His own eyes went back up to Sherlock's face to see the man was looking anywhere but at him. "Look at me." He wanted to be talked to, not at. Especially when talking about something like this.

"Do I really need to spell it out for you John?" Drawled Sherlock, pulling his eyes off a particularly interesting stain on his armchair back to John's face. "I get aroused by wearing high heels. I get a very pleasing rush of sensation from being able to have the arch of my foot surrounded by fine leather and silk, and having it force me into a fluid shape," said the tall, sprawled man, as he gazed up at his doctor from underneath a nest of curls, fingers playing with the remains of a cookie, flipping it like a coin along his knuckles.

"The woman in that case, was an excellent shoe maker herself. You could see it in her hands and the calluses she possessed, and the amount of leather, and other materials used in the shoemaking business. Her heels were obviously handmade, and made with care, but not by her. It is notoriously difficult to measure yourself and get accurate results, so she must have had a lover do it for her as well as produce the actual footwear.

"On all of her body, only the shoes were left untouched, and not even remotely bloodied, while the rest of her was soaked with splatters. Someone obviously killed her, but then placed their creation on her as a parting gift. Those shoes were never worn, the leather was still stiff, which means he never had a chance to give them to her. Judging from the fact that she was found alongside a naked male, it should not be necessary to explain the rest to you." Finished the genius sleuth.

A small, smug smile tugged at John's lips. He had gotten Sherlock to say it and that was al he really wanted. He got aroused by wearing heels. "Put some on them, Sherlock." That smile grew just a tad bigger. It wasn't a funny smile. It was an I'm-about-to-get-my-way smile. In all honesty John had promptly stopped listening to Sherlock when he finished his second sentence about how the shoe makes him feel. His mind was on other, more urgent things. Such as what he would do to a high heeled Sherlock. Make that sexy man strip out of everything but those heels and finally be able to touch that lithe body of his, John wanted to have his way with the now more feminine man. He wanted it tonight. Chewing on his lower lip, he leaned back and lounged in his chair as he waited.

Sherlock's eyes widened and his breath hitched. He looked at John with disbelief and struggled for once to answer. "Yo-You would want to see me? In heels?" He asked a bit unsure. This was the very first time someone other than his reflection in the mirror was even remotely close to seeing him in such a state, and he was not entirely too sure of the proper etiquette. The cookie disk still held in his loosened grip fell and rolled under the couch.

"Yes," John said his voice suddenly husky. A nervous Sherlock was always a sight to see. "Go put them on." This time he gave Sherlock a more reassuring smile. "Just put them on with what you're wearing. I want to see." He had other plans for the rest of Sherlock's clothing as the night went on. He ignored the cookie as it fell to the ground; he would clean it up later during the day.

Sherlock's wide eyes swept over John's face trying to find a hint of deceit but after finding none, he pushed his hands on the sofa, arched his back and brought his body to a standing position. Looking down at John sprawled quite comfortably in his armchair, hands on the armrests and feet slightly spread, he couldn't help but think that this was the best possible way for him to show off his kink for the first time.

He strode towards his bedroom in haste, the tails of his belt trailing in his wake, and gently closed the door. Sherlock leaned his forehead on it and closed his eyes. He still had the mental image of John's confident smile in his mind and that seemed to cement his decision. The elegant man strode to his closet and opened the door. Digging under his old coats Sherlock pulled out a shoe box. It was a simple cardboard at the first glance and only the curved L that looked more like S with a waved line coming from it and continuing under the rest of the word gave out the actual price of the item inside.

Sherlock tentatively looped two fingers under the lid, flipped it and pulled out two pumps. 120mm leather heel and black lacquered leather reflected the light of his lamp and setting the deep red of the sole into an even downed hue. Sherlock gingerly put on the first and then the second shoe and rose to his full height. He gathered his courage at the feeling of his calf straining and his back arching into proper position, lifting his arse into an inviting upraise. This was it, the moment he had never imagined in his head. The moment someone would see him in his flustered and aroused state.

John stayed where he was at first. He sipped his tea and tried his best to picture the great Sherlock Holmes in heels, but decided to stop. It would do him no good to picture it. He had to see the real thing. Taking a sip from his tea cup, he waited, trying to be patient. His fingers tapped the arms of the chair and his leg was bouncing up and down in anticipation. Usually he was the patient one and Sherlock was the impatient one. The roles were switched tonight. He just hoped Mrs. Hudson would hear anything and be curious enough to walk in on them. Then she might insist on them sharing the floor instead of him sleeping upstairs. Which he wouldn't really mind…

John shook his head. He was getting off track. He was waiting for his tall friend to come back in even higher heels. "Sherlock?" John called when it seemed to be taking a while. He wondered if he should come to Sherlock's bedroom instead, but decided to wait a few more minutes.

Sherlock stepped up to the doorway and put one hand on the frame to steady himself a bit. His eyes were downcast and he was uncertain of John's reaction to his look. He stepped through and swept towards his flat mate, clicks echoing off the suddenly very quiet space, as he came closer and closer. Finally he reached the other man's sprawled form and stopped in front of him.

The clacking of heels made John turn his head towards the sound, and his jaw dropped. Not in a dramatic way, but in a slow and astounded way. The way Sherlock looked in those heels… John's eyes started at the feet. His feet looked delicate and beautiful in the extraordinary high heels. John knew the heels made his calves look so much more toned and muscled, still in a feminine way. John leaned forward in his chair.

"Take the robe off so I can see more." He said it in the calmest tone he could muster. It was a hard task to do seeing as this was the most arousing thing John had ever seen in his life. He wanted to drink in Sherlock wearing the heels and he wanted to savor it. "I need to see more." John's eye met Sherlock's blue eyes as he whispered the words.

Sherlock was standing in front of John and not for the first time in his life feeling… ogled… for some reason, when the ogling was being done by John though, he found he did not mind at the slightest. Hearing the breathy request made him flush and turn his eyes away to the floor. He raised his arms and tugged at the collar of his silk robe letting it slide past his arched back shoulders, long arms and stopped for a second, hanging on his violinist fingers. After a second delay the robe fell to the ground and pooled at his feet, creating a halo of silk around the well loved leather pushing up his arches. Sherlock shuddered as he felt the slightest caress of silk on his ankles and looked hesitantly at John.

"Is it good then?" He whispered.

John's breath hitched. That was the sexiest thing he had seen in his life. Not the image before, but the image of Sherlock nearly stripping down. He had a feeling this was just about to get better and better. Sherlock was shocking, to say the least, even if the man was still in his blue pajamas.

"Almost," John said. He knew what he wanted, but he didn't want to scare this Sherlock away. He liked this side of him. He liked it a lot. John wanted to reach out and take a hold of the man in front of him, but if he moved, his now extremely tight pants would become very noticeable.

"Sherlock… You shouldn't keep this hidden from me. You look spectacular." John cleared his throat again. It was starting to sound deeper and huskier again.

The sounds of someone's voice have never been on the list of things Sherlock found particularly interesting, but when John's dropped an octave and started sounding so deep, and dare he say velvety, he couldn't help but give a slight shudder.

"I have never had an occasion when my… likes… would have been out in the open, John, and it is not something that I just come out and say to a flat mate. Hello, my name is Sherlock; I play the violin and get off on wearing leather pumps. You'd run before I finished the sentence." Huffed Sherlock.

The lean man shifted slightly, putting his weight on one side, and resting his hand on that hip. It stretched his pants on the front and made visible a delectable curve of his leg as it stretched straight and downwards, arching into an elegant sweep, and a seemingly unresisting morph into the shining black leather that curved around his suddenly delicate looking foot. Sherlock's eyes were locked with John's and being partially shaded by the curtain of brown curls that surrounded his face. Indigo eyes looked at the doctor, seeming seeking reassurance.

A big smile spread on John's face as Sherlock got more and more sassy. He just couldn't take a compliment. "Well I'm not running now, am I?"

John took this time to stand from his chair, hoping Sherlock's eyes would stay locked on his own instead of looking anywhere down in his pants area. He absentmindedly tightened the belt on his robe so it would block the bulge more. John had to look up to look in Sherlock's eyes but it wasn't what he was focused on now. John stood in front of Sherlock and touched the man's pajamas.

"These really need to go too." A hand lightly traced the outside of Sherlock's thigh through his pants. The way he was standing, with his hands on his hips. John bit his lips as his eyes trailed from one leg to the other. So feminine and so delicate.

Sherlock's eyes widened and his breath stopped for a moment before returning with a sharp hiss. His gaze remained on John, but his hands moved from their previous position to settle almost delicately on the soldier's arms. An almost unnoticed movement of the hips pulled them an inch closer as Sherlock continued watching. He leaned his head closer to the other's ear and said softly, "Then why don't you… assist… me?"

John's hands immediately got to work. His fingers deftly began to unbutton Sherlock's pajama shirt. It was only a matter of seconds before John pushed it of his shoulders and onto the floor with the robe. Hands and eyes began tracing all over Sherlock's chest. Over his strong shoulders and lean torso. John lightly ghosted his fingertips across the man's pink nipples and then began their descent to his pants. His index fingers trailed along; tracing muscles and scares they might come across. John leaned down and very lightly brushed his lips up to Sherlock's bellybutton as a tease. He stayed leaning down as he gripped onto the elastic of Sherlock's pants. He glanced up at Sherlock's face before continuing.

He himself was thoroughly aroused and ready for more. Ready for so much more. But he had to make sure Sherlock was also. John refused to speak as he knew his voice would betray everything he was feeling so he just depended on Sherlock to read his face.

As Sherlock looked down towards John he could see a multitude of emotions, and most of all… hunger. He put his hands on John's head, and ran his fingers through closely cropped hair and marveled at the soft feel. He tilted the other man's head up so he could have a better look at him and after a moment gave the tiniest of nods.

And that's all it took. In one swift movement Sherlock's pants were on the floor with the rest of his clothes. John planted a soft kiss on his now bare hip before stepping back and looking at everything. Finally he could see Sherlock's legs without clothes in the way and his assumptions earlier were right.

The muscles were so much more prominent because of the heels and his ankles looked so fragile… Sherlock's thighs also looked much more toned and muscled because of the heels. It was all showing so much more and John wanted it all. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to steady his desire. "Turn around for me," he finally spoke. His voice did give everything away. Lust laced every word and strong arousal intertwined with every letter. He wanted to admire Sherlock and get his fill.

A deep flush set in every inch of his body as Sherlock ever so slowly stepped and turned around. He turned slightly and looked at John over his shoulder before giving a fleeting smile and turning fully. His back was straight, shoulders leaned back as if supported by invisible cushions, and he felt his arse lifted into perfect shape, high and curved.

Muscles strained and clenched as he put more pressure on one foot or the other, pulling at his skin and making his legs seem longer and even slimmer. He could feel John's eyes mapping the expanse of his back, and then settle his hands on his shoulders, giving himself and embrace. Sherlock's long fingers wrapped around his own biceps and gave a sharp squeeze, bringing more color to the area. "Is this to your liking?" he asked breathily.

By then John's breathing was nearly panting. He was using every inch of his strength and will to keep himself from ravaging Sherlock's body. Especially when his eyes fell upon Sherlock's perfect little arse. Well, not little right now. John took a small step forward and placed a hand lightly on the small of Sherlock's back, eyes still on that arse. The other hand once again ran up his thigh, but this time it moved to cup one cheek of Sherlock's ass. John let out a loud breath. He leaned in and placed kiss after kiss along an invisible trail on Sherlock's back.

"Sherlock," John whispered. Both of his hands grasped the naked man's waist. "Let me have you." The words were said between kisses and John spun Sherlock back around to face him. Eyes met. "Please." John needed this. All the pent up sexual tension between them. They both needed this.

Sherlock leaned against John, sagging as he pulled him closer and weaved his hands around the shorter man's neck. He mentally compared John's stature to his own, and found that John's compact and muscled body was contrasted finely with his own. His hand buried themselves in the other man's hair again, and then slid down his scalp and throat, continuing down his clavicle and pulling at the robe that hid his prize. As Sherlock slid slowly to his knees, he undid the article fully and tugged at it, willing it to come off. As soon as it fell down, Sherlock scooted back against the sofa, leaning on it and splayed his incredibly long legs in a gesture that could not be mistake for anything then blatant invitation. Complete with come hither eyes, he made delectable illustration of debauchery and bohemia, as he bent the knees and pulled his legs slightly in, making sure that the impossibly long heels of his leather pumps were resting fully on the wooden floor.

John let a tiny groan rumble in the back of his throat as Sherlock ran his hands through his blonde hair and downward. Finally John was one article of clothing closer to being naked. But as Sherlock deliciously spread his legs for John, he took it upon himself to push his pants down and step out of them.

Both of them were naked and both of them were painfully obviously erect. He fell down to his knees and gasped one leg at the ankle. His hands ran up the ankle, feeling the muscle softly. He planted a kiss on the inside of Sherlock's knee before his hands slowly found their way up the inside of his thigh. Oh how John wanted to tease Sherlock. He wanted the man to completely forget his own name and he had a feeling that would take a lot more than just a good ol' romping.

John's heart was pounding in his chest as his eyes did their own ravaging of this man's body in front of him. His hands began to work on the other leg as John suddenly leaned up and kissed Sherlock on the lips. Hard. The first time he kissed him the entire night, well his entire time living with the man. His passion and desire bled through the kiss as his naked body leaned up against the other's nakedness.

Sherlock moaned as he felt John's unforgiving lips settle on his and claim them. This was not the first time he was kissed, but it might as well have been, as this was the culmination of months and months of sexual frustration and desire. The man had never before truly viewed John as a romantic interest, but acknowledging Sherlock's desires, playing them up with him, and taking control as he did, had moved John's room in his mind palace from the important, but still impersonal, second floor west week, right next to Sherlock's own, and then gave it a conjoined bathroom.

The taller man leaned all of his being into the soldier and felt his hard chest press back against his own leaner one .Long legs rose and settled around John's hips, and heels dug into his back, in an attempt to bring him in even closer.

John's body was flush against Sherlock's, their erections rubbing against each other and he lost all thought. His brain promptly shut down and instincts kicked in. His kiss with Sherlock deepened considerably as he smoothly slid his tongue in when Sherlock moaned. As his tongue danced with the others, his hands swept the long expanses of Sherlock's legs and sides. They finally settled on his waist once more and gripped tightly as he ground his hips into the others. Another groan escaped his lips and into Sherlock's. Those legs that kept him securely in place against Sherlock were only urging him onward. The heels digging into his back turned the pain into pleasure. John broke the kiss and trailed kisses and small bites down Sherlock's long neck and down to his collarbone where he began to give the other man a love bite.

Alright dear readers! Wait for part 2, it will be coming soon, and tell us what you think! Also please review, fav and follow as all those things warm us in these cold cold months!