Summary: John starts a private blog regarding his more intimate moments with Sherlock. When it is accidentally posted as public, many people have something to say. Smut, hilarity.

Rated: M for smuttiness

And this is what happens when I decide to look at smutty Johnlock fan art. I'm truly sorry. My first Sherlock fic, hope I do it justice!

A Study in Self-Control
Date: 10 May 2012
Time: 1:14 am

I wish I could say Sherlock Holmes is a patient man, but I've never been a big fan of lying to others, much less myself. You can tell from the moment you meet the guy that he wants everything to happen at once. Waiting for gratification is boring, and when Sherlock gets bored, he starts shooting at innocent walls.

I've never been a fan of instant gratification. I mean, it sounds excellent in theory, to get what you want as soon as you want it, but then it's gone, and what have you to look forward to? I think that's why Sherlock is always so bored, always pushing for something new and interesting to do: Every time something starts to interest him, he just wants it to end. He pushes himself too hard, and then next think you know, Sherlock Holmes, grown man (though I use the term loosely), is jumping up and down with a bright smile on his face. But then it's gone. Because instant gratification fades too fast.

I don't think Sherlock will ever be a patient man, but it doesn't hurt to try, does it? If you have the patience to try, that is.

I've particularly been trying to demonstrate why instant gratification is bad in our sex life. Sometimes I think he gets it, other times not so much. See, Sherlock has a tendency to jump my bones at random moments, shove me against a wall and rut against me until we both come in our jeans. Sure, it's fun while it lasts, but it lasts about five seconds, so...

I decided to switch things up a bit. A study, if you will, on Sherlock's self-control.

Take last night, for example. What seemed like a quickie turned into the both of us naked in his chair, Sherlock on my lap, sinking down hard on my cock, grinding his hips and pressing his chest close to mine. I could tell he was going for the instant gratification by the quick, rhythmic grind of his hips; he never did that when he wanted to take things slow. But that's not what I wanted.

I grabbed his hips, held him still against me for about half a minute. Sherlock looked at me, eyebrow raised, with just an ounce of desperation in his light eyes. He wanted to get off right away. I wanted to show him how much better it'd be if he just gave it some time.

"John, what are you doing?" I will probably never know how he can maintain a perfectly calm, even tone when he's seconds from coming.

"Keeping things interesting," I said with a wink. Sherlock seemed wary at first, but the spark in his eyes said it all- after all, he loved to keep things interesting. He lived for it.

I pulled him close to me, our sweating chests brushing, and grabbed his hips, allowing him to continue his grinding. I can't even begin to describe how amazing it felt to have that tight, hot muscle around my cock. Every once in a while he would squeeze his muscles, and the pressure on my shaft had my head falling back and my eyes closing half-way. But I had to maintain control.

I could tell when Sherlock was close by one simple action: the lip biting.

Sherlock didn't like to talk during sex; he thought it was weird and cliche. But I suspected it was a trait of his. Why else would he bite his lip right before his orgasm? I'm sure he's got something he wants to say.

Nonetheless, the second I saw that plump bottom lip captured between his teeth I brought his body as close to mine as possible and held him there, my arms keeping his hips in a vice grip.

"John, what the bloody hell-"

"Just trust me on this." Sherlock looked at me half with annoyance and half with overpowering lust. He was blinking quickly as his orgasm slowly faded.

"Wonderful, it went away!"

"It will be back," I whispered, taking his lips in my own. He was a surprisingly gentle kisser, to which I particularly love. Sherlock's always so brash and fast-paced that it's wonderful when he slows down and kisses me like...well, like he loves me.

We began to rock together again, his fingers in my hair, my hands pulling his bare legs up onto the chair. With each thrust Sherlock let his head fall forward just a little bit more, until his head lay on my shoulder, his lips to my ear. The proximity allowed me to hear his shallow breathing. When my member hit his prostate he arched forward and groaned deeply, pressing his lips to my ear and taking my earlobe into his mouth. That wonderful, wet tongue trailed down to my neck as he continued to bite and suck on my skin.

I grabbed his cheeks and lifted him up, letting him drop onto my cock, enjoying another groan, this one higher pitched and uninhibited. I pulled him away, saw that bottom lip between his teeth once more, and stilled his movements. His eyes snapped open.

"What the bloody fuck are you doing?" What should have been a biting tone came out whiny and wrecked. He wanted to get off so bad, so bad that he was letting his usual facade slip.

"Showing you how good this can actually be."

"Why must you make me suffer?" Yes, definitely whiny. I grinned and hammered into him without warning, earning the first scream I had ever gotten out of Sherlock Holmes. It was beautiful; high-pitched, needy, uncaring. He clung to me, whispering 'faster, faster' in my ear. I figured if he had broken his own rules about not talking, I could end his "suffering".

I grabbed hold of his hardened cock, flicking my wrist quickly up his shaft until he shuttered in my arms, pushing my cock all the way inside him and screaming out. His cum painted my chest and the overly tightened muscles of his arse sent me overboard, spilling inside of him with a groan of my own. My arms when round him and I pressed my forehead to his, his damp curls sticking to my skin.

And I figure the whole experience was a huge success. I have never seen Sherlock take so long to recover from an orgasm, nor has he ever cuddled for such a long time afterward.

And it made me think: Maybe this experiment wasn't just as exercise in Sherlock's self-control. Maybe it was also my chance to broaden our intimacy, get him to see that prolonging the experience would strengthen the relationship.

He shouldn't put up too much of a fuss if I try that again. Which I do want to, admittedly.

Time Posted: 1:48 am
Setting: Public

To: Sherlock H.
From: Jim M.
Looks like I haven't been the only one playing gay lately ;)

To: John W.
From: Sally D.
When I told you to find a hobby, I didn't mean the freak's arse!

To: Sherlock H.
From: Mycroft H.
Oh dear...I suppose I should order the wedding invitations, then?

To: Sherlock H.
From: Anderson
And you complain about my face putting you off! THIS puts ME off, Holmes!

To: John W.
From: Mrs. Hudson
And you said a second bedroom was necessary!

To: John W.
From: Sherlock H.
TAKE. IT. DOWN. NOW!

To: Lestrade
From: Sally D.
For the love of God, do something!

To: Sally D.
From: Lestrade
Not my division.

Gah, I had WAY too much fun writing this? So what did you guys think? PLEASE REVIEW! Let me know if I should write more Johnlock fics :D