John sat in the living room, updating his blog. The case of Ms. Adler, or The Bitch, as John thought of her, was utterly classified and Mycroft had been less than subtle in his threats of torture. There had been a handful of other, uninteresting cases and even as he tried to fluff them into exciting reading, John was bored. He knew Sherlock was as well; the lack of mental stimulation was beginning to show. He looked at his flatmate then, examining Christ knew what at the kitchen table. Long, spidery fingers adjusted the microscope focus, trembling slightly. The nicotine withdrawal was coming back. It pained John to see such an incredible mind stagnate, and he knew that without work, the man would sink back into addiction. He wondered if, without him, Sherlock would already be into harder drugs again. The thought made him shudder. To see those hands bruised by needles, that angular face hollowed even more by chemicals.

He realized he had been staring for over a minute and glanced back at his computer. He caught himself doing that far too often, watching Sherlock work, think, even sleep. John had long since admitted to himself that Sherlock transcended feelings and sexuality, and John had carried on semi-fulfilling relationships with women while being deeply in love and fiercely attracted to Sherlock. Of course, no one need know that, especially not Sherlock. He would like to see the man happy though, or at the very least, interested. In anything.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Clearly." Sherlock was still gazing into the microscope, paying no attention to John.

"What did Mycroft mean? When he asked how you would know? About, you know, sex."

"My brother," Sherlock bit out the second word like it was a filthy swear, "is under the impression that I am totally devoid of knowledge, first hand or otherwise, in the field of physical intimacy. I am not, but I find it pointless to argue."

"Oh. So you have then, had first hand experience?" John felt an irrational pang of jealousy.

"Yes," Sherlock stressed the word, "though I found both occasions wholly unsatisfactory."

John shoved his laptop onto the coffee table and whipped around in his chair. "Both? Good lord, you mean you've only had sex twice? You're twenty seven!"

"That depends on how you classify 'sex'. What would you use as your definition?" Sherlock still worked at the microscope, although John could see that his spine was stiffening.

"Well, I suppose, physical contact of a pleasurable nature that eventually leads to orgasm. It doesn't have to involve penetration."

"Then I have had sex never. Mycroft will be so pleased."

"Wait, never? But…"

Sherlock finally turned, looking John directly in the eyes. "Yes, John, never. I have had, in my clearly limited experience, exactly two encounters of a remotely sexual nature, neither of which ended in orgasm for either party. So, I have never had sex. Is this the conclusion of this charming little discussion?" He was beginning to look angry, but John couldn't stop himself.

"But, why? How?" Despite all the questions tumbling through his head, he was at a loss for words.

"You are familiar with the fact that my chronic insomnia is caused by my inability to stop my own mind from working, yes? That until I have gone for days without sleep and worked myself into complete exhaustion, I cannot rest. It is the same principal. I found myself unable to shut down my brain and enjoy the moment, which did not go over well with either of my partners. The experience ended quickly."

"Oh. Well. But surely you've, you know, worked it out on your own?"

"Masturbated, you mean?"

John blushed slightly, both at the uncomfortable directness of the question and at the arousing images that that word on Sherlock's lips had produced. Sherlock, head thrown back, eyes tightly shut, panting. He shook his head slightly, and caught a flash of interest in Sherlock's eye. "Well, yes. That."

"No."

"Never?"

"I found the idea pointless and the result distasteful. No."

John blinked, attempting to process the information. "Sorry, I'm having some trouble. Are you telling me that you have managed to reach your mid twenties without having experienced an orgasm? You, who tests everything?"

"I did, in my youth, have the rare nocturnal emission, but never anything that I could remember. So, correct."

"Good god. No wonder you don't understand crimes of passion."

"Why does this concern you so much?"

"Because. You're, you know, my best friend and I want what's best for you." He knew that made no sense, but he couldn't very well say 'Jesus, Sherlock, it's a wonder you haven't turned to serial killing yourself with all that pent up frustration. You have got to get off. I'll help.' No, absolutely out of the question.

"You, for personal reasons, desire that I experience an orgasm?"

John blushed deeper, again banishing thoughts. Sherlock, back arching, moaning loudly. "I, uh, suppose so."

"Alright then." Sherlock leaned back in his chair slightly, legs parting a fraction more than they already were.

John stared. "What? You want me to…"

"John. I am well aware of your attraction to me. Even across the room I see that your pupils are dilated and your pulse is so fast your carotid artery is twitching. You wish, for whatever reason, that I have an orgasm. You clearly want to be the one to administer it. I have no interest in doing it myself, and I will admit to a mutual attraction to your person. The concept of you bringing me to orgasm is not a completely unpleasant one, an idea I had not considered until this moment, so if you wish, you may proceed."

John couldn't wrap his mind around so much new information at once, so he snatched one thought. "You're… attracted to me?"

For the first time since he had been angered by the mention of Mycroft, Sherlock showed a trace of emotion. The right corner of his mouth twitched, and John thought it was the hint of a smile. "Yes. Your physique is aesthetically attractive and you have a personality I find calming. You also posses an unprecedented level of patience when it comes to my idiosyncrasies, something I value very highly. Due to my aforementioned failure in intimacy, however, I had no intention of making my feelings known."

"Oh." John could think of nothing else to say to that, so he stood and walked to Sherlock. The taller man gazed up at him from his seat, curiosity all over his face. And, John thought, just a hint of fear. John knelt.

"I just need to get a few things straight. You like me."

"A very imprecise use of language, but yes, if I follow your idiom, I like you."

"And you are ok with the idea of me, um, pleasuring you."

"Again, yes. It is something you desire, and I am not averse to the proposal."

"And you trust me to do this?"

Here Sherlock looked thoughtful. "Yes, I suppose trust does have something to do with it. I would not allow just anyone to do this, you are right. Why do I trust you, John?"

"Well. I'm your friend and partner and I don't punch you, even when I want to. Your wellbeing is a primary concern of mine. And," he took a deep breath, determined to take the plunge, but dreading it none-the-less, "I'm in love with you. I think you can trust me."

Sherlock looked at him for a long time, not laughing at his admission, not even smiling. Just reading his face to see if John was telling the truth. Finally he nodded.

"Yes, I trust you. More than anyone, I think. What did you have in mind?"

John glowed at the praise. "If you trust me, just let me experiment."

Sherlock did smile then and John's heart did a backflip.

"Would you just do one thing for me though, Sherlock?"

"Possibly."

"Talk to me."

"I don't follow."

"Tell me what's on your mind, whatever is on your mind. I'd like to know if and when your mind stops racing."

"Interesting idea. Alright, proceed."

John snorted at the formality, more than a little giddy at the situation. This can't be real, he thought. I can't be kneeling in front of Sherlock, with an admission of attraction and permission to pleasure him. I'll wake up from this in a minute, so I better enjoy it while it lasts.

"Ok, Sherlock, start talking."

John moved forward and placed his hands on Sherlock's hips, planting his first kiss on Sherlock's neck. He could feel himself trembling and wondered how far this would go.

"Currently, I am contemplating the status of your sexuality. Research shows that it is fluid, although that is more common in women. You are undoubtedly attracted to women, or you would not enjoy your sexual relationships with them as much as you do. I would conclude that you are bisexual but have repressed the sexual feelings toward men, possibly from your time in the army, possibly because as sexualities go, bisexuality is not well understood or accepted."

As he spoke, John was unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt, trailing his mouth down the center of Sherlock's chest as he went. He noticed that Sherlock's voice deepened when he placed an open-mouthed kiss on Sherlock's chest so when the shirt was fully unbuttoned and removed, John ran his hands up and down Sherlock's sides and gently sucked his right nipple. He could hear the catch in Sherlock's voice that this produced and he smiled. Maybe Sherlock's former lovers just hadn't been any good.

Sherlock could feel his body begin to feel strange – the removal of his shirt had made his upper body chilled, but a heat was spreading from his extremities and pooling in his abdomen. How very odd. He continued to speak. "My own sexuality is possibly similar, as of the two partners of my previous experience one was male and one was female. I would sooner consider myself asexual however, as…" he paused as John finished lowering the zipper of his trousers and looked at Sherlock expectantly. Sherlock stood and John slid both trousers and pants down his slim hips, taking care to not tug at the half erect cock they revealed. Even only semi hard, Sherlock was formidable – long and straight like the rest of his body.

"I am now considering that this is the first erection I have experienced in close to a decade."

John licked his lips, desperately wanting to take Sherlock into his mouth but wanting to wait until the man was fully erect. He dragged his fingernails up and down the backs of Sherlock's thighs, while placing kisses along his abdomen.

"As I remember, it is a rather singular feeling, being both pleasurable and uncomfortable. In my previous experience it continued until the discomfort outlasted the pleasure and became undesirable. That is why I have not pursued further experience, as I never expected that to changehnguu…"

John had taken as much of Sherlock's cock as he could fit into his mouth, not worrying about going slow. As he slid his tongue along Sherlock's length he felt the other man's entire body stiffen and his sentence ended in a groan that seemed to reverberate through his whole being. He peeked up and saw Sherlock's head thrown back, his hands wildly grabbing for something to hold onto. They came to rest on John's shoulders and Sherlock looked down at him. John disengaged his mouth, flicking his tongue across the tip to catch the drop of precum that appeared there, and he heard Sherlock inhale sharply. He stood as Sherlock cleared his throat.

"That was… certainly new. You have already given me more pleasure than I have before experienced, and in a fraction of the time. You are to be commended."

John grinned at him as Sherlock continued, a tone of worry entering his voice.

"Did that prove your point sufficiently that you were planning on stopping?"

John slid his hands around Sherlock's waist and pulled the taller man to him, feeling his cock hot against his jumper, John's own aching groin against Sherlock's thigh. The man looked slightly surprised at that revelation.

"Absolutely not. I just thought you might want to be somewhere more comfortable." He raised one hand to the back of Sherlock's head and laced his fingers into the dark curls. Sherlock's eyelids fluttered as John's fingers rubbed his scalp and John pulled him down for their first kiss. Sherlock's lips were warm and firm and soft, and what he lacked in experience he made up for in the speed of his learning. John slid his tongue along Sherlock's bottom lip and his mouth opened instantly, letting John slip his tongue in. Sherlock tasted of tea and John felt him get even harder against his belly.

John let his hand drift down Sherlock's spine and he arched into him, hands coming up to rest on John's shoulders again. When John ran his fingers along Sherlock's ass and began to lightly stroke the inside of his thigh, Sherlock let out his first moan. John could feel his own cock twitch and he suddenly wanted nothing more that to be buried deep inside Sherlock, hearing his named mixed in with those delicious sounds. John may have been a medic but he had also passed his basic training with flying colors, and was stronger than he looked. He lifted Sherlock from his feet and the other man obeyed, wrapping his long, slender legs tightly around John's waist. John backed them out of the kitchen, mouth still locked with Sherlock's, hands cupping his perfect rear. His fingers brushed Sherlock's balls, eliciting another moan and Sherlock ground against him.

John moved them swiftly to his bedroom, holding Sherlock with one arm as he opened the door. He pushed Sherlock up against the wall and, arms freed, ran his hands all over Sherlock's lower body, cupping his hot testicles and massaging his hole with one finger. Sherlock whimpered and threw his head back, gasping for breath.

"God, John. I've never felt like this. I had no idea. Is it always this way?"

John smiled, loving the innocence and raw pleasure he saw on Sherlock's face.

"It's usually good, yes. But never this good. For me, anyway. You are gorgeous, Sherlock."

Sherlock looked at him, peaking from behind curls limp with sweat. For the first time since John had met him, he looked self-conscious, unsure of himself.

"Really? This is… enjoyable for you as well?"

Without a word John lowered him until they were both standing. He pressed himself to Sherlock, forcing him to recognize the bulge in his jeans for what it was.

"Ah." Sherlock flashed a grin. "Can I participate?"

"Of course, I had hoped you would."

He hadn't finished the sentence before long fingers were flying, making short work of his belt and zipper. John pulled his own sweater and shirt off, head still covered when he felt a hand wrap around his own aching member. He shuddered, yanking the sweater over his head and saw Sherlock staring intently, stroking. John closed his eyes and tried not to explode, grabbing Sherlock's wrist as the man's thumb swept lightly across the head.

"Sherlock, if you keep doing that, this will be over way too quickly. I have a question. How far are you willing to go?"

Sherlock initiated the kiss this time, showing just how fast of a learner he really was when he swept his tongue into John's mouth, leaving the smaller man breathless.

"As far as you are willing, John. Do with me what you wish."

"Oh, you're a bad man. I hope you don't regret saying that. Go lie down."

Sherlock backed towards John's bed, watching the blond go to his dresser and pull two objects from the top drawer. He smiled when John turned around, holding a bottle of lube and a condom.

"Always prepared, Dr. Watson."

John felt himself get even harder at those words. Well, that was a new reaction to being called 'Doctor'. Fascinating.

"Lay back, Sherlock."

John knelt on the bed between Sherlock's legs. Sherlock was sitting, leaning back on his hands, knees bent at John's sides as he watched John open the condom wrapper and slide it onto himself. John's cock wasn't as long as Sherlock's but it was thicker, and Sherlock was suddenly nervous at the thought of it penetrating him. John saw the look of fear flash across his face and kissed him.

"It's ok. We'll go as slow as you need. Can I touch you now?"

Sherlock trembled slightly at the heat in John's eyes. "Yes. Please do."

John smiled and opened the bottle, squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers. Setting the bottle on the floor he rubbed his hands together, warming the lube and slicking both hands. He moved closer to Sherlock and wrapped one hand around his shaft, making Sherlock arch his back and gasp, and with the other he began to massage Sherlock's hole. He swirled his thumb around the head of Sherlock's member as he slid the tip of his middle finger in an out of his anus, making Sherlock start moaning and thrusting onto his hand within seconds. John was enthralled, and a bit surprised that Sherlock was enjoying both sensations. He slid his finger all the way in and lightly brushed Sherlock's prostate.

Sherlock's eyes flew open as he cried out, hips bucking wildly.

"Oh god! What… was that?"

John's only answer was a smile as he began rubbing circles around Sherlock's prostate in time with the circles around the head of his cock. Sherlock was babbling incoherently now, having fallen flat on his back and fisting the sheets, almost sobbing with pleasure.

"John! John, oh please, don't stop, never stop, feels so good!"

John added his index finger, stretching Sherlock so he would be prepared for what came next. Inexperience or not, Sherlock was clearly enjoying it, whimpering when John slid his fingers out, grunting when he pounded them back in. John was still in awe at what was happening. He hadn't woken up, this obviously wasn't a dream, but he couldn't imagine what he had done to deserve this. The beautiful man below him, moaning his name and impaling himself on John's fingers was too much to comprehend. Then all thoughts but one exited his head.

"John, please. Take me. Please. I need to feel you. It's close, I can feel it, and I want you inside me." Sherlock's eyes were open again, begging, almost cross-eyed from pleasure. John could feel the younger man's cock pulse in his hand, saw how close his balls had contracted to his body and knew that Sherlock wouldn't last much longer. John wanted his first orgasm to be perfect.

"It might hurt a little, ok? Just try to relax."

Sherlock nodded frantically, desperate and not caring about the possibility of pain.

"Please, John. I need you."

John felt a shiver run down his spine at that and knew he would not last much longer either. He ran his right hand over his sheathed cock, slicking it as best he could, his left still stroking Sherlock. He positioned himself at Sherlock's entrance and, holding Sherlock's thigh for support, pushed in. He meant to go slowly, an inch at a time, but Sherlock groaned at the intrusion and thrust upwards with such force that John was buried balls deep before he knew what was happening. They both cried out, brought right to the edge with that one movement.

"Fuck, Sherlock," John panted, trying to maintain control, "Are you ok? Did I hurt you?"

Sherlock was quivering from head to toe, face flushed and tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

"God no! Feels… indescribable. Please…"

John moved his hips until he was almost all of the way out, then just as slowly slid back in, stroking Sherlock the whole time. He would never get tired of the noises Sherlock made, they were the most erotic thing he has ever heard.

"Please what, Sherlock? Tell me."

"John, please… make me… orgasm."

John smiled, falling in love all over again.

"As you wish, Sherlock."

Holding onto Sherlock's leg he began to thrust, deep but not hard, making sure to get the angle right so that he hit Sherlock's prostate with every thrust. He stroked at the same time, holding firmly to Sherlock's shaft and rubbing his thumb across the head. It did not take long.

"oh god oh god ohgodgodgodjohn Joooohhhhnnnn!"

Sherlock's whole body arched as he came, hands clutching the sides of the mattress and wailing. His cock erupted and cum splashed over both of their stomachs. He kept cumming and it was the look on his face, the utter ecstasy of release more than he feeling of him clenching around John's cock or even his moans that sent John over the edge with him, his vision going white as he groaned Sherlock's name.

They stayed in the position for a long time, both trembling and trying to breathe. John finally slid out, making Sherlock whimper at the loss. He quickly discarded the condom and got back into bed, pulling the shivering Sherlock to him. He held his flatmate close, murmuring softly to him. When he saw Sherlock's hand go to his eyes, he stiffened.

"Sherlock? Are you crying? God, did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean…"

Sherlock turned slightly and John saw that while there were tears, he wasn't crying. Rather, Sherlock had a lazy smile of complete satisfaction on his face that John had never seen before.

"Goodness no, it was simply powerful enough to bring tears to my eyes. Like listening to Beethoven. John, that was, unequivocally, the most incredible feeling I have ever had. I had no idea how good that could feel. I hope… I hope it was pleasurable for you as well."

He glanced away, looking unsure and worried. John leaned into him and pressed his mouth to Sherlock's. Breaking away, he smiled.

"That was the best sex I have ever had, by a whole lot. I hope that you want to keep doing that, because I think you just ruined me for anyone else."

Sherlock beamed up at him, eyes brimming with tears again. John brushed them away.

"I can't think of anything at this moment that I would enjoy more. Although, I do hope you realize, you have just surpassed even cocaine as a stimulant, and I have a feeling I have found a cure for my insomnia as well. Are you prepared for the work that this may involve?"

John slid his hand down Sherlock's side and across his stomach, closing around Sherlock's member, which was already beginning to harden again. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed, pressing his back into John.

"Yes, I think I'm up for the task."