Chapter Text
It takes Sherlock a moment to comprehend that John is kissing him, and when he does he has no idea what to do. Why is John kissing him? Does this mean that John feels the same? Is he just looking for a shag? What about Sarah? What does this mean?
“Sherlock, stop thinking and kiss me” John breathes against his lips which causes the detective to inhale sharply. Tentatively he nips at John lower lip and when the omega hums appreciatively Sherlock runs his tongue along it. When John slowly opens his mouth Sherlock licks into it, deciding to run along with this as long as he’s allowed. At the first taste of the omega Sherlock moans softly and his hands grip tightly to John’s jumper. John tastes like tea and toast with jam, and danger, and home. When John seeks out Sherlock’s tongue with his own the detective positively whimpers, beyond caring, completely lost to the sensations of kissing John Watson. The sensations of being kissed by John Watson.
John kisses him as if the world has stopped (and Sherlock isn’t certain that it hasn’t) and they have all the time in the world. He kisses Sherlock as if Sherlock is something precious and the alpha can feel his heart breaking as he realizes this.
Suddenly he pulls back starring at the omega, there’s no going back he realizes. There’s no way that he’ll be able to carry on like they have before now that he knows how John’s lips feels, how he tastes and how his hands feels in Sherlock’s hair.
“You look so lost” John whispers while stroking back one of the detective’s stray curls.
“I don’t want to ruin what we have” Sherlock whispers back gripping even tighter to John’s jumper sounding terrified even to his own ears.
John doesn’t answer this straight away, instead he directs his right hand to Sherlock’s chin and the detective closes his eyes and leans in to his touch as the doctor strokes his prominent cheekbone with his thumb.
“You haven’t” the doctor says softly and Sherlock opens his eyes. “And you won’t” John adds firmly and leans up to give Sherlock a quick kiss. “But I think that it’s been a long day, and I’m barely able to stay awake and I probably should be for this conversation so could we maybe talk about this tomorrow?”
Sherlock nods slowly as he tries to read his flatmate, unable to see anything but John’s fond tired expression. He then stands abruptly and starts walking towards his bedroom. Just as he’s about to enter it he can hear John quietly bid him a good night.
Despite being convinced that he’d never be able to fall asleep after the eventful evening, Sherlock wakes up nine hours later with the sun shining through his window. As always after sleeping for far too many hours, Sherlock feels a bit groggy and it takes a while for him to wake up properly. When he does however he goes absolutely rigid, he kissed John. But even more importantly, John had kissed him, and he’d initiated the kiss as well.
The good thing about this was that obviously that the idea of kissing Sherlock didn’t repel John, but Sherlock had no idea if this was a one-time thing or if John was interested in some more kissing. Sherlock certainly was. Just the memory of John’s lips and his wicked tongue made Sherlock’s blood boil and head south. He forced his transport to behave and tried to analyse the situation. However, as always when it came to John, he had no idea what was going on or how to deal with it.
After lying in bed for a good 40 minutes terrified of leaving his room and risk bumping in to John (how was he supposed to act!?) he scolded himself and headed to the bathroom to empty his bladder that felt as if it was about to burst. After washing his hands he headed out to the shared living space and realized that John was nowhere to be found. Had he bolted after Sherlock had fallen asleep? What if he had realized exactly what Sherlock wanted of him and decided that it was too much and that he was having none of it. Sherlock thought back at the previous evening, he had kissed John just after the doctor had been kidnapped and strapped to a bomb after all, maybe the chock had worn off and he’d been disgusted by Sherlock’s actions. Whatever reasons it was clear that John had left. His shoes as well as jacket was missing and the whole flat felt cold and empty as always when the omega wasn’t in it.
The detective threw himself on the sofa and retreated to his mind. What was the point of staying in the present if John Watson wasn’t in it?
After some time (judging by the light outside, or rather lack of, Sherlock would say it was late afternoon) the front door opened and closed. Sherlock braced himself as he could hear John’s gait in the stairs. Was he back to get his belongings? Maybe Sherlock should retreat to his room as to avoid an embarrassing confrontation, there was however no time for it as John opened the door to the flat and walked in. Sherlock tried to make himself as invisible as possible on the sofa.
“Oh there you are! I had an absolutely awful day at work today, first there was this woman that..” John’s voice filled the flat as he told Sherlock about his day, but the detective was barely listening, he was busy being in shock.
After spending endless hours of following Sherlock around puzzle solving, John had been kidnapped and had a bomb strapped to him, after surviving that Sherlock had thrown himself at him with kisses and declarations and the doctor had just taken it all in stride and headed to work just hours later. Sherlock couldn’t help but to stare at the remarkable man before him, and once again marvelled over how perfect he was.
John hadn’t left him. Sherlock let the knowledge of that sink in. John was back in their home, making tea and seemed genuinely pleased to see the detective, Sherlock almost felt like crying.
As the doctor settled down in his chair with a cup of tea, after putting one on the coffee table for Sherlock, he looked over at the alpha. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked and blew on his tea to cool it before he took a sip.
“I thought you’d left” Sherlock answered truthfully.
John must have heard the vulnerability in his voice because his features suddenly softened and Sherlock could practically feel the warmth radiating from him. “Sherlock, I’m not leaving” he said softly. “Get used to it” he then added with a smile and Sherlock could feel himself smile in return.