SHERLOCK

SALMON ON SAPPHIRE

Author's Note:

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson

Warnings: References to m/m sex, homophobic language

Note: The fifth story in the "Colours" series. The full list can be found on my profile. The partner series is called "Sherlock: Impact" and tells the Mystrade side of the story. The full list can be found on my profile.

Disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to the BBC, Mark Gatiss, and Steven Moffat. The original characters are the property of Arthur Conan Doyle. I own nothing but the plot and make no money from this story.

Sherlock watched as John tucked into his own food. While Sherlock didn't want to eat, he realised it was important to John. And if John wanted him to eat, he would.

He ate slowly, making sure John could see that he was eating just for him.

'I hate you,' Sherlock said.

'No you don't.'

'I do.'

'You love me.'

Sherlock snorted but felt heat flush his cheeks. He glared at his food and John chuckled. He reached forward and took one of Sherlock's hands, squeezing it softly to show that he was joking, that he loved Sherlock too. Sherlock pretended not to notice.

But, ever so softly, John felt Sherlock squeeze his hand back.

This is new, Sherlock thought as he shifted awake. He was in bed, an actual bed, and there was a warm body beside him. He and John hadn't had sex, they'd just fallen asleep holding each other. John was new to the whole "in love with a man" thing and Sherlock, while far from new at liking a man, hadn't actually ever loved someone besides his annoying older brother and his parents. And he definitely loved John, someone who wasn't family... at least not biologically.

Neither wanted to move too fast and both were quite happy to just fall asleep holding each other. John stole the occasional kiss from Sherlock, who would blush and burry his face into the nearest surface; a pillow, the couch, John's crotch... there would be a lot of blushing those first few weeks.

Sherlock felt completely at ease around John and always had. But the way John looked at him now, and the way Sherlock looked at John, it was all new and exciting and embarrassing. Sherlock didn't know what to do with himself. How do you act around someone you were in love with?

It kept him up most of the night. John had fallen asleep quite quickly, his face pressed into Sherlock's chest. Sherlock just watched him sleep, enjoying the look of innocence and content on John's face. It made him smile, it made him love John even more.

And the feel of John's erection pressing into him definitely made Sherlock feel... good. That he could do that to John, could make him feel that way, it was breathtaking.

John shifted about behind him and Sherlock turned to catch another glimpse of the doctor's face. He didn't remember falling asleep but obviously had because now his back was to John and John was up against the wall.

As Sherlock turned around, he found himself face to face with a sleepy and happy John Watson. The man's smile made Sherlock break into a grin and John chuckled.

'Morning.'

'Hello,' Sherlock replied.

'Is that all I get?' John asked. Sherlock blushed and John took it upon himself to lean forward. He pressed his cold lips against Sherlock's. It was wonderful and all Sherlock ever wanted to do. Why eat, or sleep, or do anything when he could lay right here and kiss John Watson?

Clearly John didn't feel the same way because he pulled back and Sherlock huffed.

'What?' John asked.

'You always move,' Sherlock pouted.

John chuckled and quickly pecked Sherlock on the lips. 'As much as I love kissing you, Sherlock, I have to go to the bathroom.'

'Why?'

'Nature calls.'

'Why?'

'Because I had four beers before going to bed.'

'Why?'

'Because I like beer,' John said, smirking at the sudden game Sherlock had started. He knew Sherlock was just trying to get him to stay.

'Why?' Sherlock asked. He was aware of the smile on John's lips. Damn him for being able to figure out Sherlock's brain.

'Because I bought them to drink them.'

'Why?'

'So I could get the courage to do this,' John said quickly and leaned forward. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock and pulled him in close, once more pressing his lips to Sherlock's full ones. Sherlock moaned a little and moved closer, pulling his own arms around John. They were glued together, kissing softly, enjoying each other's breath and noises and looks.

And then John was scrambling over Sherlock quickly and falling off the bed.

'John?' Sherlock questioned, turning slowly as he tried to regain control of his breathing.

John grinned triumphantly from the doorway. 'Bathroom here I come!' he shouted and disappeared.

Sherlock smirked and dropped back into the bed, pressing his face into the pillow John had vacated. Damn that man and his understanding of Sherlock's brain...

{oOo}

Sherlock had eaten the night before, and he tried to tell John that, but the man still made breakfast. He placed a plate of toast and eggs in front of Sherlock and stared pointedly at him.

'May I help you?' Sherlock asked, leaning back on the couch. He was wrapped up in his dressing gown and John eyed the way it hugged his slim frame.

'Breakfast,' John said, like he was explaining the act to a three-year-old.

'I am quite aware of what it is,' Sherlock said.

John smiled. 'Yes, yes you are. Unfortunately, Mr Holmes, you seem to be unable to comprehend the fact that normal people eat breakfast every morning.'

Sherlock frowned at him. 'There is no definition of a normal person, Dr Watson.'

John tried to think of a witty remark. When none came to mind, he shuffled up the couch and kissed Sherlock softly and quickly.

'Please?'

He pulled away and shifted back to the other end of the couch, leaving Sherlock flushed and panting. 'I... um...' Sherlock tried but couldn't get any words out.

John smirked and bit into his toast. 'It's yummy,' he said, not looking at Sherlock. 'Makes me wonder what it would taste like on your lips...'

He nearly burst out laughing when Sherlock leaned forward to grab his plate. He shovelled egg into his mouth and chewed quickly, trying to swallow as much as he could.

'Calm down, Sherlock,' John said and leaned forward to rest a hand on Sherlock's leg. Sherlock choked and coughed up egg, forcing John to pat his back. 'Are you okay?'

'No!' Sherlock frowned and dropped his plate back on the table. 'You nearly killed me.'

'How?'

'Touching me while I'm eating?' Sherlock scowled. 'What did you expect to happen, Dr Watson?'

John blushed slightly. 'I'm... I'm sorry, Sherlock. I was just trying to get you to eat.'

'I am well aware of that, thank you,' Sherlock huffed and folded his arms.

John sighed. 'Sherlock, I'm sorry.

Sherlock ignored him.

'I don't know how to act around you,' John said and put his toast down. Sherlock eyed him quietly. 'I mean, we're fine right now but... I dunno. I don't know what to say or do. How do we go about this? Our relationship has suddenly changed and I don't know what to do.'

Sherlock uncrossed his arms slowly. He hadn't been aware that John had been feeling the same insecurities as him. Neither knew how to proceed with the sudden change in their relationship.

'I'll always feel comfortable around you, John,' Sherlock finally said. 'Except when you're looking particularly... good.'

John smiled. 'Really?' Sherlock nodded. 'Well, that's good. 'Cause I feel comfortable around you, too.'

'Really?'

'Except when you pout, or wear that dressing gown, or that purple shirt, or kiss me, 'cause I really can't concentrate on anything when you do those things.'

A smile pulled at Sherlock's lips. 'That's quite a list, John.'

'I know,' John said with a shrug. 'I just have to control myself.'

'What if I don't want you to?'

John smiled. 'I think it'd be embarrassing, for all parties involved, if Lestrade had to arrest us for public indecency.'

With a sly smile, Sherlock shimmied down the couch to press himself against John, who gulped. 'He would never catch us, John.'

'No?'

'No.'

John smiled and wrapped an arm around Sherlock. The genius snuggled into John's stomach, enjoying the warmth radiating from the doctor.

'I love doing this,' Sherlock admitted. He blushed slightly and John chuckled.

'That's okay, Sherlock.'

'Really?'

'Yes,' John said, 'because I love you doing it too.'

Sherlock buried his head further into John's stomach while the doctor played with his hair. He ran his strong fingers through Sherlock's curls and scratched at his skull, making Sherlock groan softly.

'You like that?' John asked, running his fingers once more across Sherlock's skin.

'Mm hmm,' Sherlock admitted, closing his eyes. He was very much like a cat, sprawled across John's body. He nudged his face against John's t-shirt and said, 'Don't stop.'

John didn't plan to. He continued to run his fingers through Sherlock's magnificently dark curls, enjoying the soft hairs against his skin. He could do this all day.

John's phone rang and Sherlock promptly wrapped himself around the doctor. Luckily John had bought his phone with him and pulled it from his pocket.

'Hello?'

Sherlock began muttering plans about killing phone companies as John spoke with Sarah from work.

'Yeah, I'll be right in.' He slid his phone back into his pocket. 'I have to go.'

'Why?'

'There's an emergency; flu epidemic.'

'Why?'

John chuckled softly and ran his fingers trough Sherlock's hair. 'Dunno. Probably 'cause it's cold.'

He got a moan in response.

It took John ten minutes to untangle himself from Sherlock. The genius followed him to the bathroom and blushed when John shed his shirt and trousers. He raised an eyebrow and Sherlock quickly disappeared into the living room, face beetroot red.

Soon he was showered and dressed and found Sherlock pouting on the couch.

'I'll be home as soon as I can.'

A grunt.

'Sherlock, please don't be like this. You know I want to stay here with you but I've got work.'

Sherlock huffed.

John sat beside him on the couch and reached to run a hand down Sherlock from his head to the top of his arse. Sherlock shivered beneath him and moaned.

'How about we have dinner tonight?' John said. 'A public date.'

Sherlock turned to face him slowly. 'You... you want us to be seen in public... as...' he trailed off, looking for the right word.

'Boyfriends?' John said and Sherlock nodded. 'Yes, I do. But if you don't, Sherlock, I understand.'

'No!' Sherlock said quickly and scrambled up. He threw his arms around John. 'You are my John and I won't have anyone else thinking you're not taken!'

John was shocked at Sherlock's sudden declaration. But like all good soldiers he went with the change and smiled, leaning down to kiss Sherlock, who had buried his face in John's chest and was taking deep breaths.

'Sherlock, I want to be seen in public as your boyfriend,' he said and found Sherlock's lips. He pecked at them softly before continuing, 'Would you like that?'

Sherlock nodded and went for John's lips again, biting at the bottom one. It sent little shivers of pleasure through John's body. Suddenly John found himself being pushed back onto the couch with Sherlock atop him.

'I have work,' John said but continued kissing Sherlock, grabbing his face with both hands.

'I'm more important,' Sherlock said, kissing along John's jaw line.

John groaned softly and said, 'Yes, you are, but we need the money.'

'Nope.'

'Yep.'

'Nah ah.

'Yah ha.'

Sherlock frowned at him. 'You're too good at this.'

'At what?'

'Playing my games,' Sherlock pouted. 'Stop it; make it harder for me to stop you leaving. You are playing along and I dislike it; I want you to fight me properly. Make it harder, John.'

John smiled. 'You're making everything pretty hard, Sherlock.' He pushed up and his erection bumped into Sherlock's, making Sherlock gasp. In those seconds, when Sherlock's brain was completely fixed on the pressure against his crotch, John slipped from under Sherlock, leaving the consulting detective lying on his front on the couch.

'John!' he whined as John ran for the door.

'Work here I come!' John shouted and blew a kiss before disappearing.

Sherlock groaned in frustration but then smiled as he rolled around to lay on his back. John really was good at playing Sherlock's games... and he was winning every time.

{oOo}

John had barely stepped through the door when tangled limbs grabbed him. Sherlock pressed every inch of his body against John.

'Sherlock?' John questioned as soft lips found his.

'Missed you,' Sherlock murmured against him.

John smiled. 'I missed you too.' It was true. All day he'd found his thoughts drifting to Sherlock; to his smell, his taste, his body, everything. He'd missed the pouty man-child, the quick wit and sarcasm and complete lack of social skills. He'd missed it all.

Sherlock dragged John to the couch and John fell atop him. Sherlock grabbed John's face and kissed every inch, running his lips along John's eyes.

'Mm,' John hummed softly, enjoying the feeling of having Sherlock search every inch of his face.

'I missed you,' Sherlock repeated.

'I know.'

'And you missed me?'

'I said that,' John said and kissed Sherlock quickly. 'I missed you.'

Sherlock beamed happily. 'Good. Because you're mine.'

'I am,' John smiled.

'And I'm yours.'

'Most definitely.'

They kissed softly, enjoying each other completely. And then John, like usual, was pulling away.

'Stop it!' Sherlock whined and buried his head in John's armpit.

John chuckled. 'I need a shower.'

'Nope.'

He laughed again. 'Sherlock, I'm going to take a shower, okay?'

There was a pause before Sherlock huffed. 'Fine.' John smiled. He'd always found that direct was the way to go with Sherlock.

'And then we're going out to dinner.'

'Fine.'

'And you're going to eat.'

Sherlock went silent and nibbled at John's chest through his shirt.

'Stop that.'

'No.'

John pulled himself up, face flushed. Sherlock grinned.

'Dinner, Sherlock.'

And then the genius consulting detective huffed and curled into the couch. John left him there as he went to shower and change. When he returned Sherlock was dressed in a charcoal-grey suit with that silk purple shirt John loved.

Sherlock smiled as John's eyes raked him over.

'Dinner, John?' Sherlock asked.

John just nodded and Sherlock smirked.

{oOo}

Sherlock picked the restaurant. It was a small, beautiful place and they sat close together, staring at each other as their drinks were ordered. Sherlock took the liberty of ordering the salmon for both of them, telling John it was good. John believed him.

The food arrived and the salmon melted in John's mouth. He groaned softly as he ate it.

'Do you like it?' Sherlock asked.

John nodded. ''Course I do.'

Sherlock smiled, satisfied. 'Good.' He took a few bites of his own and suddenly found John kissing him softly. 'John?'

'It tastes better on your lips,' John admitted.

Sherlock blushed and dabbed at his lips with his sapphire-coloured napkin. It matched the walls and the chairs, the table-cloth a nice white cotton. Sherlock smiled at John, glad he liked the restaurant.

They chatted happily about everything as they slowly ate, taking their time to finish their meals. John had barely eaten half of his four hours into the date; he was enjoying Sherlock's company too much.

Every so often John would lean forward to kiss Sherlock softly and Sherlock would blush and sip his drink. It was nothing over the top; just a quick peck to remind Sherlock that they were on a date and that John was having a good time.

Which was why it was so very, very annoying when John heard a tut from behind him. He turned to see a man frowning at him from the next table. The tables were close together and everybody in the restaurant had a clear view of John kissing Sherlock.

John didn't understand. It wasn't as though he and Sherlock were making out like teenagers. All they were doing was kissing softly. John was all too aware of the prejudices that remained even in the 21st century. The human race thought it was moving ahead but people still frowned at homosexuality between both men and women. John had never had that problem, even when he'd thought he was straight. He just didn't understand why gender mattered when it came to love or sexual attraction.

The man had once more turned his back on John but John knew the fight wasn't over. People with beliefs against homosexuality didn't stay silent for long.

Over the next hour, John noticed the man tutting and whispering his disgust every time John kissed or spoke of loving Sherlock. He thought it was a bit rich coming from a man who was sticking his tongue down the throat of the young blonde woman he was dining with. It was getting harder and harder for John to ignore the man and Sherlock was having the same problem.

But where John was feeling anger, Sherlock was feeling distress. He wasn't good with people or romantic relationships and was getting quieter and quieter as the night wore on. He no longer leaned forward when John kissed him and he looked down each time John pulled away.

The man was making Sherlock feel uncomfortable about what he was doing; about who he was. And John knew Sherlock; he may act strong and unbreakable but Sherlock was fragile when it came to feelings. If this continued Sherlock would never again be affectionate with John in public.

About six hours into their date (they'd arrived early for the sole purpose of staying until closing), the man's muttering became coherent words that every table directly beside his own could hear. A few people were shaking their heads at the man's lack of understanding, at his blatant homophobia. Others were pointedly glaring at him for daring to utter words about the happy couple.

And then it went too far when the man clearly said, 'It's disgusting, what they're doing.'

Sherlock immediately pulled in on himself; he pulled away from John, away from ever expressing himself in public, away from a full relationship.

John was furious. That one man's stupid comments could make Sherlock feel that way absolutely infuriated him. So he dropped his napkin on the table and turned.

'Excuse me?' John said, loudly.

'John, don't,' Sherlock muttered as the man turned.

It was quite a turn of roles; normally Sherlock was the one getting in people's faces and John was trying to hold him back. But this wasn't a case or anything else Sherlock excelled at. In relationships, John was the stronger half of the partnership.

'Do you have a problem?' John demanded.

The man was taller than John and sneered down at him. John stared defiantly back.

'Yeah, I have a problem,' the man said.

John raised his eyebrows. 'Would you care to share it with the class?'

'John, please,' Sherlock said, aware that quite a few people had turned to look at them. They'd all heard the man's words and where interested to see what John would do.

'No, Sherlock, let the man speak,' John said, calmly keeping his anger in check. 'Go on, say it.'

'My problem,' the man said and twisted to face John fully, 'is seeing two grown men act like teenagers in a classy restaurant.'

Sherlock slunk further into his chair but John wasn't going to back down. This man had hurt Sherlock, was still hurting him. John wouldn't stand for it.

'Oh, but its okay for you to stick your tongue down that poor woman's throat in front of thirty people, even though she is clearly twenty years younger than you and you're married?'

Living with Sherlock Holmes had taught John a thing or two. The man was stunned into silence for a few seconds before he said, 'How dare you–'

'No, how dare you,' John said, allowing his voice to rise. 'I came here, to a "classy restaurant", as you put it, with the hopes of having a nice evening with my boyfriend. But now it's been ruined by a homophobic idiot who's sleeping with his secretary. Now please, tell me how that's fair or right or even sane. Because you, sir, are a fucking dickhead. Now, I'd like you to apologise to my boyfriend, kindly, before I get really angry.'

Everybody was stunned into silence, including Sherlock. He stared as John stood, hovering over the man. Suddenly the man didn't feel so tall, especially when he caught the look in John's eyes. It was the soldier thing; John had killed people and had no qualms about killing again for the right reasons. It simply radiated off of him, making the taller man shrink.

'I... sorry,' the man mumbled.

'What was that?' John asked. 'Did you say, "I'm sorry, Mr Holmes and Mr Watson, for trying to ruin your evening." Is that what you said?'

'Yes.'

'Then say it.'

The man swallowed, aware that at least thirty pairs of eyes were on him. He made himself look at Sherlock. 'I'm sorry, Mr Holmes and... and Mr Watson, for trying to ruin... ruin your evening.'

John looked at Sherlock. 'Do you accept the apology, Sherlock?'

Sherlock nodded slowly.

'Good,' John smiled. 'I suggest we all get back to our dinners.'

He dropped back into his seat. There was a few claps, some whistles, a lot of, "You tell him!" The man and his secretary left the restaurant quickly, eyeing John and Sherlock carefully. John just sliced at his salmon calmly, taking small bites.

Sherlock swallowed before saying, 'Thank you, John.'

'No worries,' John answered. He didn't look up until he felt something on his lips. He saw that Sherlock had picked up his discarded napkin and was patting the sapphire-coloured paper against his lips. 'Sherlock?'

'You have some salmon on your lips,' Sherlock smiled, blushing.

John smiled back. 'Well, make sure you get it all.'

Hesitantly, Sherlock leaned forwards to kiss John softly... in public.

And it was wonderful.

{To Be Continued...}

Author's Note: I loved John standing up for Sherlock because it's usually Sherlock who's the tough guy. I love how innocent Sherlock is with relationships and sex and everything.

And I really, really hate it when people express dislike of homosexuality. I mean, seriously, it's just completely stupid to hate someone for something they can't control. And who cares, anyway? Sexual attraction is sexual attraction. Gender is irrelevant.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed.

Cheers,

{IBegToDreamAndDiffer}