Author Notes: I'm really sorry for the long wait, but lab practice was just crazy and very exhausting. On the plus side, I have finished the lab successfully now, but... I still need to study for a colloquium on Tuesday.^^" So, I don't even know how I managed to write this chapter, in between everything else, but I hope it's still good enough for you to enjoy! =)

Clarity and Relief

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Sherlock clenched his pillow between his hands and pressed his face into its fabric at the same time to muffle the sobs that were shaking his frame. He was too tired - exhausted - to feel ashamed of the tears that were streaming down his face or the hitched breaths that burned in his lungs. He should have known that it was too good to last. It was always like that, whenever Sherlock thought that finally he had what he wanted, it was torn away from him again.

Although, this time, he hadn't even had John, a sarcastic voice in his head pointed out to him. And it was right, wasn't it? A bitter sound - half laugh, half sob - ,was torn from Sherlock's throat as he recalled last night. How gentle and, at the same time, passionate, John had been with him. How he had called Sherlock sweetheart and kissed him and... You should know what hormones do to people, his mind pointed out to him and Sherlock drew his knees up to his chest, until he was lying in a fetal position on the bed, with the pillow still pressed to his face. It was the same position he had adapted, when he had woken up last night.

"John," Sherlock murmured sleepily, as his brain came back online. He must have fallen asleep, after he had snuggled up to John -literally wrung out from the sex with him The changed light in the room told him that at least an hour had passed, since he had last opened his eyes. Still, Sherlock refused to feel embarrassed about it. Not, when he had never experienced such an intensive orgasm before. No matter what the commercials wanted you to believe, sex toys couldn't replace the experience of getting off with the person you... loved. Yes, of course, he loved John.

Sherlock smiled to himself and stretched comfortably on the bed. Heat rushed to his cheeks when his arse gave the faintest twinge at the movement. Dear God, but John had been better equipped than Sherlock's favorite toy... or maybe it was the fact that the position had been different from Sherlock's solo sessions and that John had been in control of the pace and...

Sherlock bit his lower lip in amusement as his cock twitched at the thoughts. He would have plenty of time to figure out which of the factors had made the experience so satisfying or if all of them had played a role. John certainly wouldn't mind setting up a few experiments to test his theories, although Sherlock would have to tell him a few things first to explain the need for these experiments. What, Sherlock wondered, as he rolled onto his side to face his lover, would John say, when he was told that he was Sherlock's first...

His thoughts came to an abrupt stop as his eyes fell onto the empty spot, where John was supposed to lie. He moved his hand across the mattress. It was still slightly warm, which indicated that John hadn't left long ago. Sherlock listened to the bathroom and when no sounds were forthcoming, he got out of the bed and moved to the kitchen. John got the urge to drink tea at strange hours, as far as Sherlock was aware. But when he entered the kitchen, it was as empty as the rest of the downstairs flat.

Sherlock's heart jumped into his throat as he moved closer to the steps that led to John's bedroom and waited. A minute later the bed upstairs creaked, accompanied by a content snore. Sherlock felt his stomach twist at the sound as an icy chill filled his body and made him shake where he stood. John hadn't stayed with him. He had cleaned them both - otherwise Sherlock would feel the stickiness of his release on his stomach - and then he had gone back to bed like... Like Sherlock had been nothing more than a nice little fuck.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut against the burning sensation behind his eyelids. John would pretend that nothing had happened between them or... maybe he would clap Sherlock on the shoulder and thank him for this night. A sob was torn from him at the thought. He clapped a hand over his mouth in horror as it echoed through the empty flat, but John kept on snoring upstairs. Oblivious to Sherlock's distress and to what Sherlock had given to him tonight. And he would never know, Sherlock swore to himself, anger spiking through the fog of pain as he stumbled back to his room and fell on his bed. He would never tell John what this night had meant to Sherlock. No, he would just act like nothing had happened and when he had calmed down, he would delete the whole experience. Yes, that was definitely better than to live with the knowledge that his first... No, he wouldn't think of it anymore. Never again. Still, Sherlock couldn't stop a single tear from escaping his closed eyes as he curled up in his bed with John's scent surrounding him from all sides.

Sherlock took a shaky breath and tried to calm down his erratic beating heart as the memories from last night played out in his mind's eye. He had thought that he could continue like before, if he only refused to think of last night. Obviously, that wasn't an option as today's events proved. Deleting wasn't possible either - Sherlock had tried that already - but the experience was tied to too many emotions. He would have to delete all his interactions with John, in order to wipe his mind clean and that... was unacceptable. Even if John didn't see Sherlock as a friend, Sherlock still... loved him. It felt like a knife had been twisted inside his gut as this thought was accompanied by a breathtaking pain, as Sherlock realised how he had expertly fooled himself all this time. "At least, you now know why you don't have any friends, you wanker!" John's exact words had been and Sherlock was sure that he would never forget them. The worst wasn't that John implied that Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and Molly didn't consider him their friend - Sherlock could manage without their friendship- but that John was clearly speaking for himself. If he didn't think that Sherlock had any friends, then... he didn't see himself as Sherlock's friend. And that meant that last night had been nothing else than... fucking.

More tears leaked from between Sherlock's closed eyelids, although he was too tired to cry in earnest. He had miscalculated big this time. Sherlock had given everything he had to give to John and he... didn't even consider them to have a special bond of any kind. Friends with benefits, last night Sherlock had feared that it would result in this, but now... he rather wished that that was what John wanted. At least, it wouldn't make last night completely meaningless. At least, it would mean that John cared for Sherlock in some way. At least, it would give Sherlock the chance to make John fall in love with him. At least... No, it was hopeless. Sherlock shouldn't have started to care at all. Mycroft was right - and how bad was that - caring was not an advantage. The last time, Sherlock had opened his heart for someone, he had ended as an addict in the streets, as only the cocaine had been able to numb the pain of the loss of his friend. it But Victor hadn't wormed his way as far in Sherlock's heart as John had and therefore Sherlock wasn't sure if cocaine would even be enough to relief him of his pain.

If he used enough it would certainly relief him of all of his pain, forever, a cynic voice reminded him and Sherlock didn't know if he should be disgusted with himself for the thought or if his mind had just presented him with the only solution to escape the sorrow that was eating away on his insides. It wouldn't be easy to get enough cocaine to achieve his goal, when Mycroft kept watching him through his damned cameras, but Sherlock knew that he could manage it if he set his mind to it. And right now, he would have given everything for an injection of his favorite class A drug, but it was impossible to get it right away. He couldn't go through the window, without arousing Mycroft's suspicions and John was still in the flat, therefore Sherlock couldn't leave his room, without running into him and that would be... more than he could handle at the moment.

He curled farther into a ball and tried to ignore the faint, lingering scent of a cologne that wasn't his own, when a knock sounded at his door. Damn, he hadn't locked it and John would come inside and he would notice the evidence of Sherlock's crying - even Anderson would spot his red rimmed eyes and come to the right conclusions - and then, John would...

"Sherlock, can I come in?"

"No," Sherlock answered, although he was certain that it would be ignored. Still, when the handle of the door didn't move, Sherlock couldn't help but frown at it in confusion. The door wasn't locked, so why didn't John just ignore Sherlock's negative reply and come in? Not that Sherlock wanted him to come in right now, of course, but still...

"Alright, I'll just stay here, then." Sherlock uncurled himself partially, when he listened to John sitting down on the floor next to his door.

"It's not locked," Sherlock called against his better judgment, unsure of what to make of John's actions. Maybe, he just hadn't checked if Sherlock had locked the door.

"Does that mean, I can come in?" Sherlock blinked at the question, even more confused now that John didn't seem to make any movements to open the door.

"No," Sherlock replied, just to test what would happen next and sat up in his bed. His curiosity chased the hurt away for the moment.

Silence, then: "Alright, but Sherlock, I... just know that I'm sorry for what I said earlier. I was angry and... of course you have friends. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly and I, we all think of you as a friend, although... you are a real bastard sometimes." John's voice sounded muffled, but Sherlock wasn't sure if that was due to the door between them or the pounding of his blood in his ears. John had apologized! He hadn't meant what he had said and he considered Sherlock to be his friend.

Sherlock took a shaking breath at that revelation and cursed himself for taking John's words literally, when his friend had obviously been too angry to choose his words with care. It didn't change much about the events of last night, but...

"If you are up to it... I would like to... that's it, I fear that something that happened last night has upset you and... I think we should talk..."

"Come in!" Sherlock called, before he could rethink his choice. He couldn't stand to listen to John's voice through the door, without the opportunity to judge his motives by nothing but the tone of his voice.. Besides, if John had noticed that Sherlock was upset and he cared, then maybe... No, he shouldn't get his hopes up, Sherlock reminded himself, when the door opened and John entered the room.

Light blue eyes found Sherlock's right away and a complicated mixture of confusion, pain, worry, sadness and determination flickered over John's features as he crossed the room and sat down on the edge of Sherlock's bed. And Sherlock remembered how they had stumbled into the room last night and fallen onto that exact bed. How they had kissed and...

"Sherlock, please, I see that something upsets you and I... I want to help you. Was it something I did last night? Did I hurt you?" Sherlock bit down on his lower lip and shrugged, unable to reply to the question, without giving away just how wrecked he felt - although John had obviously deduced some of it from Sherlock's appearance - and unwilling to meet John's eyes at the same time.

A sigh sounded next to him and Sherlock prepared himself for John demanding an answer or leaving the room in a huff. What he wasn't prepared for, was the strong arm coming around his shoulders and drawing him against John's side. Sherlock tensed - unsure what John's intended with this action - but he didn't object to the gentle force of his friend. The scent of cheap cologne, shaving cream, tea, toast and woolen jumpers hit his nostrils, when Sherlock finally leaned against John's shoulder and new tears sprang to his eyes. Sherlock just hoped that John didn't notice them, as he sat silent next to Sherlock and rubbed soothing circles on his back and shoulder.

OOO

John hated it. He hated how lost and forlorn Sherlock looked. He hated the red rimmed eyes of his friend and the streaks of tears on his cheeks. He hated that it was probably his fault that Sherlock was so upset. But most of all, John hated that he didn't know how to fix it.

He sighed inwardly and continued the soothing motion of his hand on Sherlock's back. At least, his friend wasn't pulling away from him, but instead leaned into the contact. John hoped that this also meant that whatever he had done - unintentional - wasn't as terrible as to damage their friendship forever. If Sherlock would only talk to him and tell John...

"You did."

John blinked down at the messy head of dark curls, where it leaned against his shoulder. "What did I do, Sherlock?" John inquired, well aware that they had to address the problem - whatever it was - if they didn't want to risk damaging what was between them.

"You... hurt me." Sherlock's voice cracked at the last words and John felt an icy chill running through his veins. Dear God, had he been so far gone last night that he had hurt Sherlock so much that he was still upset about it... that he was still in pain?!

All the color drained from John's face at the idea of Sherlock being in pain, because of him. Because he had been carried away and... But he had checked Sherlock after their love-making. There hadn't been any indicator that Sherlock would experience more than a mild discomfort - if any at all. No torn skin, bleeding or other obvious injuries, as far as John had seen. Still, it had been dark in the room and...

"Not physically." Sherlock's voice interrupted John's frantic thoughts, but his words did nothing to calm John down. Of course, it was reassuring that Sherlock wasn't injured, but the implications of his words made John sick to the stomach. "What... did I," John licked his suddenly dry lips and forced himself to take a deep breath before he continued. "What did I do wrong?" Only silence greeted his words and the only indication that Sherlock had heard him was the tensing of his shoulders under John's hand.

God no, John prayed inwardly, he couldn't possible have forced Sherlock to do anything he didn't want, could he?! The thought that Sherlock had felt forced - in any way - last night, made bile rise up in John's throat. He had known that they should have talked before jumping into bed right away and still, he hadn't listened to his common sense. And now, it appeared that his impatience had destroyed every potential for a future relationship with his best friend.

John took a shaky breath and then forced himself to ask the question, to which he most dreaded the answer. "Did you feel... forced, last night?"

"NO!"

John almost fell from the bed, when Sherlock jumped up abruptly and glared down at him, his expression a mixture of pain and exasperation. "You didn't force me! You had my explicit consent!" A weight fell from John's heart at hearing these words, although Sherlock wasn't finished yet. "You didn't hurt me physically! You didn't force me! It wasn't something you did, John!" Sherlock glared down at him from where he was pacing in front of the bed, still not meeting John's eyes. "It was... what you didn't do!"

John blinked slowly at that. "What I didn't... do?" He didn't know what Sherlock was talking about. Was there some set of rules on bedside manner that John had missed somehow? Unlikely, as none of his former lovers had ever complained about his manners. Still, this was Sherlock, he was talking about here and...

"You really don't know what I`m talking about." For the first time, since John had entered the bedroom, their eyes met and John fought against the urge to get up and enfold Sherlock in his arms at seeing the unmarked vulnerability in his stormy eyes. Instead, he shook his head and Sherlock's shoulder slumped at the movement. "I guess... it's not required then to stay in bed with someone, if you consider it... an one-night stand."

"One-night stand," John echoed and the penny finally dropped. He couldn't hold in a burst of laughter as a wave of relief washed over him about what had only been a silly misunderstanding. "Sherlock, look," he started and made to get up, but was halted by his friend's furious expression. "Good that you find it so funny that I thought my first time would be worth more than..."

Horror flashed through Sherlock's eyes and John's mind stuttered to a halt as he processed what Sherlock's words implied. "You mean that I..."

"Yes," Sherlock snarled and if John hadn't known him any better, he would have bought the furious scowl on his face and his aggressive body language. As it was, John noticed the barely masked vulnerability and insecurity in Sherlock's gaze, even when his friend ranted on. "You were the first one I indulged in sexual activities with. Congratulations, John, your cock was the first one to be pushed up my arse!"

"Stop it, you idiot!" John got off the bed and glared up at Sherlock for a second and then sighed quietly. "God, that's all so... I would have happily shared a bed with you, but you took up all the fucking space and I didn't... I didn`t want to wake you." John winced at how hollow his words sounded, when they left his mouth. His actions had been absolutely logical last night, as they already shared a flat, but he now realized how it must have appeared to Sherlock. God, John had taken Sherlock's virginity - without knowing - and then he had left him alone - without a note - to wake up alone in his bed, after he had just trusted someone with his body for the first time.

"I`m a complete arse," John cursed himself and stared down at his feet. He hadn't only ruined Sherlock's first time, but all the trust that had existed between them, only because he hadn't wanted to wake Sherlock up... when his friend woke John up all the time!

"And I'm an idiot!" John's head snapped up at the strange note in Sherlock's voice and a gasp was pressed from his lungs, when strong arms enfolded him and drew him into a bone cracking hug.

OOO

He was so stupid, Sherlock scolded himself, while he clung to John and led his familiar scent surround him and calm his nerves. If Sherlock hadn't allowed his emotions to rule his common sense, he would have realised that John hadn't left him, because he had only considered Sherlock to be a one night stand. If had just opened his eyes and observed, the pieces would have fallen into place. Christ, Sherlock was very well aware that he always kept most of the bed to himself - he had even thrown Mycroft out of his own bed, as a child. And even if he hadn't seen it, Sherlock should have known that John would never use him like that. Their friendship was much too important to John to throw it away for a night of passion. Yes, Sherlock realized embarrassed as he rubbed his heated face against John's woolen clad shoulder, he should have seen it. Instead of crying his eyes out, in his bed - like a frail Victorian maiden - he could have gone upstairs and joined John in his bed and...

"Sherlock," John's voice was a gentle whisper against his ear. "Whatever you are thinking, stop it!"

Sherlock raised his face, from where it was pressed against John, just so that he was able to look down at his friend and shook his head. "If I hadn't been such an idiot... I should have never doubted you and..."

A soft pair of lips silenced him with a brief kiss. "It's not your fault that I didn't think of leaving you a note or... Hell, if I had just talked with you this morning, instead of rushing off to the crime scene with you or... I could have just woken you up last night and..."

"John," Sherlock was the one to interrupt his friend with a peek to his jaw this time. "You didn't think clearly, last night either. Hormones are known for clouding the mind and I... I didn't want to speak with you this morning, I just wanted to forget... everything."

"God, Sherlock!"

This time it was Sherlock, who gasped in surprise, when John's arms crushed him against the solid body of his friend and light kisses were pressed to every part of his face, that John could reach. "Can you forgive me?" John whispered in between the kisses and Sherlock's brain nearly tied itself in a knot, as he tried to make sense of John's apology. He couldn't see for what his friend was apologizing, when he had been the one to make a mess of everything. The anger at John had vanished, the second Sherlock had realised that everything had been a big misunderstanding. Yes, they had both made some mistakes along the way, but it was nothing they couldn't straighten out again... or at least, Sherlock hoped so. Just when he was about to ask for clarification as to why John found it necessary to apologize, his friend's next words cleared up any confusion Sherlock had experienced.

"I'm sorry for ruining your first time, Sherlock." And that was so stupid that Sherlock would have laughed aloud, if it hadn't been for the broken tone of John's voice and the way his expressive eyes looked regretfully up at him.

"Don't be stupid," Sherlock whispered - his throat suddenly tight with emotions. "It was perfect. You were perfect. I couldn't have imagined a better first time, even if I tried."

That at least put a smile on John's face, but he still didn't look convinced and Sherlock huffed in exasperation. "Yes, alright, it would have been better if we had spent the night together, but we could still make up for it now and," Sherlock gestured to his bed, suddenly uncertain how to put his desires into words. Luckily, his friend knew him well enough to guess on what Sherlock wanted. "Cuddle?" John offered and Sherlock nodded.

Obviously, it was all the encouragement, John needed, before he maneuvered them in the direction of the bed. Somehow, they managed to crawl under the covers, without letting go of each other.. Sherlock buried his face in the crook of John's neck right away, while gentle fingers ran through his curls and massaged his scalp. Yes, that was perfect. Sherlock sighed contently and brought one hand up to smooth through John's short hair. Exactly what he had missed last night.

They stayed like this for what could have been hours - or maybe it were just minutes - just exchanging sweet kisses and holding onto each other and Sherlock felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep, when a sudden burst of laughter made his head jerk up. John's grinning face - eyes sparkling with amusement - was just inches away from Sherlock's and when he raised an eyebrow at him, a low giggle escaped John. "You know, people usually don't do that." Sherlock frowned harder and John gestured to them both.. "Lying in bed just short after midday and cuddling with their boyfriend."

Sherlock's mind jumped right over the statement about what normal, boring people did and kept stuck at the term John had just used. "Boyfriends?" Sherlock's heart beat fast in his chest and he was certain that he hadn't managed to keep the hope out of his voice, when John bestowed him with a gentle smile. "Of course, we are boyfriends. Or partners, whatever you prefer. I certainly feel like we have been together for far longer than one night."

Sherlock took a shaky breath and then another. It would certainly ruin the mood if he broke down in happy tears just now. Therefore, he waited until he was sure to have his voice mostly back under control, before he replied. "Boyfriends is fine, although... Lestrade might tell us that we rather behave like an old married couple." It was a weak joke, but John still giggled at it and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's forehead. Sherlock decided that he rather liked to be kissed by John, no matter where. He wondered if his friend - No, boyfriend - had any preferences in this area and chose his next words just to gather more date in this regard.. "We should still keep yesterday as our get-together date, otherwise it will be hard to celebrate our anniversary."

John's lips landed on Sherlock's nose this time. "I didn't know that you were the type to celebrate anniversaries. Do I have to be worried that you'll drag me to a murder scene for our ten years anniversary then?" Sherlock's heart skipped a beat at the playful comment, it's implications and - most importantly - the serious undertone in John's voice. Ten years, that was... much too little time for them both together. He wanted to have John at his side, as long as they chased after murderers and then later, when they were retired, Sherlock wanted them to grow old in a cottage on the countryside. Still, even he knew that it would ruin the mood if he started discussing getting old and grey with John now, therefore Sherlock opted for a playful comment of his own. "I find that's rather unspectacular for us. I rather thought of dismantling a drug ring for that occasion - or getting kidnapped by international spies - and maybe a nice celebration in the morgue for our twentieth and..."

John's lips shut Sherlock effectively up, as he sealed his mouth in a heated kiss and when they came back up for air, Sherlock ignored the traitorous glistening in John's eyes and instead held him as tight as possible as they snuggled together under the covers. No more words were needed, as the stress of the last hours finally caught up with Sherlock and his eyes fell shut of their own accord... which didn't stop John from whispering three more in his ear, while Sherlock slipped into a deep and peaceful sleep. A smile on his face and with the intention to say the words back to John at the earliest opportunity.