(And Sherlock gripped John's shirt and brought John back closer.)

/

They resumed kissing, and dear God above John had never felt so blessed. Sherlock wasn't holding back anything at all it seemed, and John relished on the way Sherlock's hands pulled and pressed him closer and closer still while his mouth turned more and more demanding, between sharp intakes of breath and a few whispered "John"s. But the biggest turn on was to hear Sherlock moan. And even groan. Sherlock wasn't the noisy type, but the few sounds he let out were overwhelming : to be responsible for such desperate, incontrollable responses, to know Sherlock allowed his ever self control to slip some - just for him … there were no words.

John though was very prudent not to lose his head and let his own instincts take over. He was adamant that Sherlock should set the pace and lead. Because this was already more than he had ever hoped for, honestly - and he would never, never push Sherlock further than he was willing to go. Besides, right now, this moment was for Sherlock, simply. There was responsibility in knowing he was and would be Sherlock's everything first (and only, you bet, if John had any say in it), and John wanted to be gentle, no matter the undeniable extra possessive high it implied.

Sherlock was by now so hard that it shouldn't be long anymore – it was decades since his last release after all – and John could hardly believe Sherlock hadn't wished to stop already. So when Sherlock breathlessly let go of his mouth, ushing out urgently "John, John, everything is getting blurry", John mistook it for panick and tried to disentangle himself from Sherlock's embrace. But Sherlock's hands brought him forcefully back to him as Sherlock actually cried out "Don't stop!" in a tone that was actually this time more a panicked plea than an order and John realised that Sherlock had simply been asking him for HELP, and John wondered about how he was still able to breath, because 'breathtaking' had just reached a new summit. But if Sherlock needed him, well of course John was here for him. And before he could even think about what he should do, John had THE solution in mind.

"Count down from 500."

There was no way Sherlock would last that long if they kept at it, but he didn't want to worry Sherlock more than he already was. And that way, Sherlock still had a choice. John had given him something to focus on to calm down, if he wanted.

The breathless way Sherlock ushed out "499" before claiming his mouth back felt like a miracle. The briefest of kisses, as Sherlock started to count down, keeping at it while pulling John closer and closer again, groaning and trembling, definitely choosing NOT to calm down, the conscient decision obvious from the fact that he was actually counting yet didn't only count, and John started to believe his heart might actually implode from it all, but that it would be worth it anyway.

Sherlock's voice actually broke in the middle of "482", and there was an helpless "John" before "480", and John understood and went on counting himself, the exhaled "Yes" Sherlock let out as John ushed out "479", closing his eyes, head rolling back on the sofa, definitely forever branded in John's memory.

And not doubting anymore that this was exactly what Sherlock wanted, John now took the lead, hands firm on Sherlock's shoulder and chest, pinning him in place as he kept counting, following the rhythm of his hips as he rose some and then pressed himself against Sherlock on the way down.

"469"

Sherlock then opened his eyes back, blown out pupils meeting John's and not letting go of them, breathing in sync with John.

"459"

Sherlock groaned, his hands suddenly finding John's buttocks and pushing him closer still at each pass -

"458", "457", "456" - until there was a short gasp as Sherlock shook and it was the most goddamn GLORIOUS thing John had ever had the privilege to see, but he kept counting, hoping it would ground Sherlock somehow until he had recovered.

Then Sherlock started counting down with him again from "441", still breathlessly, then more regularly, until he silenced him with a long, passionate yet calmer now kiss as John was going for "427".

John pressed his forehead against Sherlock's and twined his hands in Sherlock's hair as they parted, not wanting to disconnect but needing to breath, still not over the ENORMITY of what had just happened, feeling like crying and laughing and EVERYTHING at the same time, his ears still ringing, his eyes probably shining, and his heart- well, his heart was definitely singing - and-

"You didn't come."

Indeed, he hadn't. So what? Really? Why should it matter? What had just passed was so BEYOND coming, John wouldn't mind if he NEVER came again for the rest of his life!

But the gasp had a panicky edge and John blanched, feeling litterally stabbed by it. Because of course it would matter to Sherlock. And then it got even worse because everything seemed to backfire as Sherlock went on : "I was too quick I presume, sorry" - no, NO, how could Sherlock be apologizing and - "What do you-"

John silenced Sherlock, pressing fingers against his mouth as his eyes found Sherlock's and held them.

"Sherlock, it's fine. I am fine. Believe me, this was definitely the most intense moment I've ever shared with anyone – and we didn't even shed any piece of clothing, mind you."

"B-"

"No 'but'. There is only one rule about sex, Sherlock ; that all parties are happy about what they are doing. So, I didn't come – and what? Do you even realise the magnitude of what happened - of what you gave me? You trusted me with your mind, Sherlock! So please do not make an issue about details, because nothing matters compared to it. Can you just … trust me about this too?"

Sherlock's eyes turned softer, a rare sight which never lack to make Jonh's heart constrict. "Always."

And John went to kiss Sherlock again, and again, and again , lazily, until he was sure any lingering doubt must have left Sherlock's mind.

Then: "See? All fine. (moving to sit next to Sherlock) So (he hadn't forgot how Sherlock had labelled his semen 'gross') if you feel like freshening up, it's not rude; it's ok. Just go, I'll still be there when you're finished."

Sherlock eyed him for a moment then kissed him briefly, "I won't be long", and got up.

John realised suddenly that there was still one very, very important thing he needed to tell Sherlock and grasped for him.

"One last thing Sherlock. I'm probably an idiot but I want to make this really, really clear. This... It doesn't have to happen again. It's not because it happened once that I'm expecting it to get repeated. I mean... We don't need the words - but the truth, and you know it, is that I love you, and I will keep on loving you no matter how you choose to be loved, Sherlock. It's ok if you don't-"

Sherlock bucked down to kiss him to shut him up, and smiled at him: "You are an idiot, and you worry too much."

Then he waited a bit, probably looking for a sign in John's eyes that John had gotten the message, and finally went to the bathroom.

He reappeared a few minutes later in a fresh suit, but stopped in the doorway as if unsure of 'what to do now' - and John jumped on the first 'quite usual way to pass the evening' that came to his mind before his heart could break from such a sight.

"Do you feel like playing violin for me for a bit?"

His reward was a true smile, and John just closed his eyes and enjoyed Sherlock's playing for a while.

/ / /

John awoke with some strained feeling in his neck (he had fallen asleep on the sofa, urgh), to the feel of a blanket thrown over him and the smell of Sherlock's warm coffee. He opened his eyes, automatically turning his head towards the table, and was granted the 'no case, good morning' usual sight of Sherlock reading the newspaper, coffee at his side, and a steaming hot tea (Sherlock always knew when he would nearly get awake) waiting for him at the other side of the table.

John stretched some, taking some extra time with his neck, then met the usual smile - "Morning, John" - those eyes darting away from the news to meet his eyes never failing to warm John's heart.

John walked to the table to sit down as Sherlock folded the paper momentarily aside (as was usual on a good morning mood). He kissed Sherlock as he passed him by – nothing more than a quick peck, "Good morning" - because it felt right. Sherlock was smiling as he finally sat down, so John decided to throw aside any panick about what he had just done in his still groggy state and started their usual chatting around.

"You didn't sleep." It wasn't a question - Sherlock still pristinely wore the suit he had put on after his quick shower. "Any interesting experiment? I obviously slept through it all so I assume there was no explosions."

Sherlock grinned, then conspiratiously inched closer. "Actually, what started merely as an experiment has brought me to the threshold of monumental discovery."

(playfully) "Did you indeed?"

"Did you know flies fly in counter-clockwise, synchronized concentric circles in response to atonal clusters, whereas there's no measurable response if I play, chromatic scale ?! I, using musical theory, have created order out from chaos." (AN)

John wasn't sure if he felt like choking on a laugh imagining Sherlock chasing a few flies in the middle of the night or simply be amazed again by how that unique mind worked, but he couldn't refrain from asking in disbelief : "There's no way I slept through your playing all night long."

"I was in your room."

John finished his tea with a smile. It seemed he was gonna have to free the flies when he would go upstairs to shower and get dressed. All in all, it was just a completely normal morning at 221B Bakerstreet.

John freed the 3 flies from under a big bowl on his nightstand with a smile.

Sherlock's violin was still on his bed, and John truly liked it – as far as he knew,it was the first time Sherlock spent time here, yet het felt secure enough in it to let his violin.

AN: I know, I am shamelessly quoting 2009 Guy Ritchie's "Sherlock Holmes" :) But seriously, this bit is just too perfect :) And I will be forever grateful to that movie because it's what got me back into Holmes (I read a few as a teenager and the first book I tried to read in English was actually "Hound"...) and that's how I could truly appreciate Sherlock's lots of winks to the originals which I would have probably missed otherwise. So yes. Thanks 2009 SH:)

AN2 : I never thought counting could be hot ... what have I done to myself !