ihadabadday | Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed

John huffed and then got up. Sherlock was right. He made his way to the loo, relieved himself and then splashed some water on his face. He returned to the bed and climbed in, this time making himself the 'little spoon' so he could pull Sherlock's arm over his chest.

"There." He muttered.

Sherlock chuckled as John got up. They both knew that he was right, but it was still amusing to hear John get petulant about it.

He wasn't surprised at all when John came back, only to be the little spoon. Thankfully, Sherlock had (carefully) gotten up earlier to use the loo, so he had no such compunctions about needing to get out of bed any time soon.

Sherlock wrapped his long arms around John and pressed his body close, leaning his head on John's scarred shoulder. He kissed the old wound, gently giving it attention and care.

"That feels nice..." John muttered softly, a smile on his face. He closed his eyes, letting himself relax in Sherlock's arms. He didn't care if the man did anything while he was asleep. He quite liked it to be honest.

"Well, I certainly hope so.." He rumbled in his low baritone. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"

He spent a few more minutes kissing and licking his shoulder wound before moving up to his scapula, nuzzling and licking and kissing along his shoulder blade, moving slowly up towards his neck.

His intention wasn't really sex at the end of this (though if it happened, he wouldn't complain), but it was more to remind John that despite the harsh things he puts the man through, he is cared for and deserves pleasure as well.

John groaned at the sensation. He could feel his body starting to respond, but he made no move to do anything about it.

"I love it when you touch me like that." He whispered, "You're always so good to me..."

"Even when I am bad?" He growled in John's ear, before moving his head back down to where his shoulder met his neck. He bit down, a bit harder than he had been before, a possessive bite with suction that he intended to have leave a mark. It should be low enough that a nice woolly jumper would cover it.. mostly.

John cried out at the bite, his eyes closing. Oh fuck. He grabbed Sherlock's hand and brought it to his hard cock, pressing against his sleep trousers. He shivered and pushed back against the other man. "Yes... Oh yes, especially then..."

Well, he thought, perhaps this was going to end in something nice. Oh well. He smiled to himself.

He broke his biting and sucking to lean back into John's ear. "Especially when I get all... possessive?" He asked, on the last word he gripped John's erection through his pajama bottoms and gave it a soft squeeze and a not quite so gentle stroke.

John gasped and nodded. Especially then. Especially now. He shifted and pressed his hips forward. "Yes. Even then..." He whispered.

He had gone shopping for a collar and ended up ordering one, without Sherlock's approval. He hoped the man liked it when it arrived.

Sherlock pulled the sleep trousers down just a bit off John's hips, so he could get better access to what lay inside.

"And when I take what is mine?" He wrapped his long fingers around John's length and started to stroke, slowly, not enough to get him off, but enough to tease and arouse him further. Sherlock was an expert in how much.. or how little, pleasure to give.

John shifted, trying to help Sherlock in getting his sleep trousers off. He nodded. "Yes. Even then." He agreed.

He swallowed and closed his eyes, dropping his head back. He wanted more. Sherlock to do more. More games...

Sherlock turned John so that he was on his back, looking up at him, it was easier to access all of him this way. Sherlock stayed on his side, his mouth nibbling at John's neck, one hand moving across the flat planes of his chest, the other stroking his lover slowly, teasingly.

The time for words had passed, it seemed.

He gasped and shifted a bit as he was moved. He moaned and bit his lip. Oh god. Oh god. He swallowed and rocked his hips up into that hand.

"I... I bought a collar."

Sherlock stopped for a moment, surprised at the brazenness of the statement.

"Without my input?" He asked, a slight frown on his face. He kept his hands still, but he didn't pull them away.

"I am... disappointed. I would have liked to have had some input in it's look and design." He said simply.

"I... I sorta had your input. I noticed some saved ones on your laptop and went with one of those." He said. John felt terrible. He thought Sherlock would be happy. Guess no.

He detangled himself from the man and yanked his sleep trousers back up before leaving the bedroom. He... He felt ashamed and embarrassed.

"Oh.." He only had time to say that before John jerked away and left the room.

Sherlock didn't care that he was nude. He threw off the sheets and followed John into to rest of the flat.

"John. Come back here." He said, in his commanding voice. He didn't want to do it, but they needed to finish this conversation.

"No." He snapped, "I can't even do anything right for you. Why the hell do you even keep me around?"

"When are you going to get bored of me and cast me aside?"

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, confusion written on his face. What in the hell was John on about?

Oh.

Oh.

Now he understood. He was going to KILL Mycroft.

Sherlock stalked up to John, grabbed him, and violently turned him around so that they were looking at each other. He held John's arms tight enough to bruise.

"If you really believe what my brother told you, then you are less intelligent that I initially surmised." He said angrily.

"He is trying to pull us apart, can't you see that?"

He had not expected Sherlock to grab him and turn him so. It was violent and made his head spin. John stared at Sherlock and swallowed. He had not expected this reaction at all. He had thought something mild would happen. But not this. This was the exact opposite of what he expected from Sherlock.

"Now I can see." He answered.

He could see how Sherlock cared all over the man's face.

Sherlock hadn't even realized how tense and stiff his body was, until John responded. His whole body went to mush. His muscles untensed and he quickly poured himself into the nearest kitchen chair before his legs totally gave out on him.

He ran a hand over his face, slowly. "I do wish you had let me help you make the final decision on the collar." He repeated. his voice not angry, but suddenly very tired and weary. "And I don't appreciate you looking on my laptop. We already privacy boundaries when he we first started seeing each other." He must have left the laptop open, because his was quite well passworded. That was a mistake he wouldn't make again.

But I am not mad at you, and I am not going to punish you." Right now, Sherlock was just not feeling very dominant at all. quite the opposite, really.

"I should have asked. But I wanted to try and surprise you." John said weakly. He didn't move. He felt... Confused. He bit his lip and sighed.

"I'm going to go upstairs. I need to sort myself."

He then retreated to the upstairs room. He had things up here and technically it was his room, but he hardly ever used it, instead choosing to stay with Sherlock. He shut the door and sat on the bed, his back to the headboard, propping him up. He sighed and rubbed his face. Well fuck.

Sherlock thought about following him, but then decided that if John really wanted time to himself, then he deserved it.

He went back to the bedroom and put some clothes on, then puttered around for a while on his computer. A text came in a short time later, Lestrade still needed his statement from the night before.

John hadn't taken his phone up with him, he knew it was still in their bedroom. Still, Sherlock sent John a text so he'd know where he went, then headed out, getting a taxi for Scotland Yard.

John came out of the room when he knew Sherlock had left. He saw the package with the collar had been delivered and placed it on Sherlock's bed before grabbing his phone and retreating back upstairs. The collar itself was sleek, leather, a deep navy blue that looked nearly black. The hardware was a gleaming silver.

He sighed and dropped his head back. He understood the not wanting to snoop. And he really hadn't. Sherlock had left his laptop open. It was a grey area and he felt awful, yet not, for looking through Sherlock's things. He sighed softly and then rubbed his head. Fuck.

He stayed upstairs for the rest of the day, reading a book he kept up here.

The day drug on endlessly. Lestrade had gotten his statement, then another case had come in while they he was still there. Normally he wouldn't have gone out on the case with them, it sounded like a 4, but when Lestrade had insisted, he reluctantly went along.

Which was a mistake.

It had rained a bit the night before, and the roads were slick. While Sherlock was chasing after a suspect, he stepped in a puddle that was deeper than it looked. The small pothole had filled with water, making it look like a small puddle. Since it was nighttime, it was even harder to see.

Sherlock fell, twisting his ankle and falling on his wrists, he knew at least his right one was sprained right away, maybe the left as well.

Thankfully, Lestrade and his team were right after the man He was eventually caught, and an ambulance was called for Sherlock.

Unfortunately, he had had his phone out while running to tell Lestrade where he was, so it had fallen in the water, and the screen was broken- not that he could use it anyway with his hands messed up as they were.

He was sent off to the hospital to get his wounds looked at.

When John got up in the morning to find that Sherlock was not home. He... Panicked for a moment before taking a breath. He had said he was going to see Lestrade. So he sent the man a text.

Have you seen or spoken to Sherlock lately? He didn't come home last night.

Into the Night - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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