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Sherlock was an exquisite musician. A lifetime of practice had given him mastery over his instrument and there was nothing John Watson enjoyed more than sitting around their flat and listening to his best friend play. It felt nice.
Literally.
John had a tiny bit of a secret that he never mentioned to anyone. If he heard a particularly moving bit of music, John’s skin tingled and his arm hair stood up. If the vibrato was particularly intense, he could feel it in his sternum. If he was swept away by the composition, John experienced a full body flush that was pleasant and enjoyable. If he went to a concert…well, John always made sure he got a seat someplace discrete.
Life was essentially back to normal now that he had returned to Baker Street, the last few years only beginning to fade away like remnants of a bad dream. John spent their free time now lounging in his chair having a bit of a read, or pecking out an entry on the blog he had restarted, and enjoying a nice cup of Sherlock’s tea. He’d missed it. Many people assumed that John did all the home-care chores at 221 B Baker Street but John knew better. Sherlock brewed a superb cup of tea and he was fond of cooking complex meals made of many different dishes just for the technical challenge of it all. The least John could contribute was shopping for the ingredients and doing the washing up after. He didn’t even need to clean their flat or do laundry, Mrs Hudson loved to tidy and Sherlock now had John’s things sent out with his own. Life was very gentle.
John and Sherlock were working together to rebuild their very fragmented friendship. It had taken a lot of hits and strains over the year but after all was sifted and sorted, John admitted that he still cared for Sherlock more than anyone else in the world and Sherlock admitted that he understood now what he hadn’t been able to understand then, and they’d agreed to make a new start together. It was so good. They already had many things in common so using those as starting points, John and Sherlock tentatively began forging a way forward. They weren’t exactly boyfriends but both of them understood that they’d committed to something more than just friendship, they didn’t hide their affections from each other anymore.
Sherlock knew John enjoyed how he played his violin, so he played regularly. John knew how Sherlock had secretly enjoyed reading his perspectives on their cases, so he’d begun blogging again. They made each other happy with simple things. “There’s a concert in the park tonight, free to the public. Care to go for a listen?” Sherlock just putting his violin away, coming to the sofa to stretch out and smile at his friend, “I’m not exactly sure what the acts are though, could be terrible.”
“Could be good, too.” John set his cup down. A walk would be just the thing to settle dinner. He’d make sure to wear his longest coat, just in case, even though it was a bit on the thin side. “Sure, it’s a nice evening. Let’s go.”
They strolled slowly, not in any kind of hurry even though they heard the music grow louder as they approached. There were a number of live acts set to play, and everyone was listening while standing in small groups of friends and acquaintances. John and Sherlock stood together off to the side where it wasn’t so crowded though more and more people showed up as the night crept over them. It was lovely. No two acts played the same kind of music, only staying onstage for two or three songs each before being cycled off, stagehands helping to cart instruments off and on, and technicians quickly working to complete rapid change sound-checks.
The very last act was a singer from a very distant land. Her voice was ululating and strange to his ears but undeniably lovely. She played a strange stringed instrument that he had never seen before and the combination was more than enough to make the hair on his arm stand straight up. He shivered when a particularly acute dissonant harmony caught him up. “You’re cold.” Sherlock sounded concerned and then a moment later, John was enveloped in Sherlock’s long coat, his friend holding him from behind.
Well, this wasn' t good.
“Thanks,” John could hardly push away especially since Sherlock was right. Now that the music wasn’t distracting him he could feel how icy his hands and face were and realised that he’d been shivering all along. Sherlock’s coat was expansive and warm, and without thinking, John leaned back against Sherlock’s chest. Sherlock raised his arms to put them around John and held him while they continued to listen to the music. Eventually, Sherlock rested his head on John’s but neither man spoke.
The woman was amazing, her strange looks and odd music compelling as well as moving. John had no idea what she was singing about but it made his heart ache. He could feel it in his bones and it made a tear well up. John felt Sherlock rub his cheek against the top of his head as his arms tightened for a moment. Sherlock had hugged him. John swallowed hard and continued to listen to the song until the last note quavered away in the darkness. Sherlock did the clapping for both of them when it was over, the crowd appreciative as the performer bowed before beginning her second song.
This was beautiful too, and once again, John’s heart ached. It was a love song, one filled with entreaty as well as promise. Once again, the hairs on John’s arms stood up as the song swept him up, but when her voice climbed the registers to hit an impossibly high note before dancing its way downward, John realised that the rest of his body was on the rise as well.
Oh dear.
John stood there and tried to ignore his growing arousal. The singer was very good though and more than once, she caused John to gasp, and shiver, once making him arch up as a sweet note made his nerves sing along. He was in raptures and his body was shameless about it.
Any hope that Sherlock had failed to miss these obvious cues vanished when John felt Sherlock’s breath against his hair and nearly gasped into the darkness as he felt Sherlock release his hold around John’s waist and let his hands go lower. John went tense as Sherlock cupped his erection and whispered one word into his ear, “Alright?”
John had the fastest think he’d ever had. They were right out in the open but it was night. They were surrounded by people but currently, all the groups were focussed on the performer and not anyone else. Sherlock and he had never once discussed a physical relationship and this didn’t seem to be the best location or time to do so. John was harder than he had been only five seconds ago and suddenly he wanted nothing more in the world that to have Sherlock touch him this way, “Alright.”
Sherlock managed to pull his arm out of his sleeve while keeping it around both of them. John wasn’t sure how he’d done that exactly but it didn’t matter because Sherlock had reached down and was cupping John’s erection again. He was also beginning to kiss John’s ear and that was the hottest thing he’d ever experienced. Sherlock bit his earlobe gently and whispered, “I want to make you come, right here. Can you be quiet?”
John nodded and tried to keep breathing as Sherlock slipped his hand into John’s trousers and touched him. Now Sherlock needed to use his still en-sleeved arm to hold John up while his other hand began to stroke him carefully. “Sherlock.”
“Shh John. I want to do this. Let me do this.” Sherlock sucked on the tender sensitive flesh right below John’s ear and he felt his cock twitch in Sherlock’s hand. He could also feel Sherlock’s erection growing against his back as his friend began to press carefully against him, “I want to make a mess of you right here in the open. I want to feel your body as you come in my hand. I want to take you home afterwards and I want us to fuck each other until we are so exhausted that we sleep for days.”
John turned his head a bit and awkwardly, their lips met. Sherlock heaved a shuddering breath and then kissed John passionately, his hand stroking John’s cock with firm but still discrete strokes. When their kiss ended, Sherlock resumed whispering in John’s ear. “I noticed, John. When I play my violin you always pick up the paper or a magazine or something to cover yourself. The music makes you react and you feel vaguely shameful about it. Don’t. It’s wonderful when I play for you and see how my music touches you. I want to touch you. I want to make symphonies of your moans. I want you, John. I want your cock in me and I want my cock in you. I want to write sheets of music to play for you just to see you sigh and fidget and try to hide from me. You can’t. I watch you constantly, I can’t take my eyes off of you. You’re beautiful John and I want you so much that the feel of you in my hand right now is almost enough to make me come all over your back. Can you feel me? Can you feel how hard you’ve made me with your gasps and your twitches and the way that you let the music sink right down into your soul? Beautiful.”
Sherlock held John’s cock firmly, stroking him expertly. John knew he was beginning to leak because Sherlock was managing to catch and use it as a lubricant, making the slide and squeeze of his hands that much better, “Sherlock.”
Sherlock’s whisper was almost inaudible and spoken right against his ear so that the breath from the words caressed him, “Silent, John. Don’t call out, just come, my love. Come right here in the park where we walk every day. Come inside my coat so that I’ll have the stain to remember this night by. Come all over my hands so that I can lick it off my fingers and taste you. We’ll go home right after and then, John then I want you on your knees, my cock in your mouth, my come running down your face. Will you give me that? Can I have your come now and give you mine later?”
Sherlock’s words were so intensely arousing that John had no chance. John closed his eyes and tried to stifle his panting breaths as his orgasm overtook him. It was so sharp that it cut through his entire body, making it nearly impossible to stand. John would have fallen if Sherlock’s arm was not still cinched around him, his hand milking John’s cock for every drop. John wasn’t sure if he’d kept all his moans in and after a moment, he opened his eyes and looked around.
Absolutely no one was looking at them. In fact, the crowd had grown thicker and they couldn’t even see the stage anymore though they could hear the woman as she began yet another song. John couldn’t focus. He felt exhausted now but also energised. Sherlock let his coat fall open so John turned to face him as Sherlock slowly brought his fingers up and carefully licked them clean. John kissed him again and now people noticed, giving them fond glances and rolling their eyes, but not recognizing that the men in front of them had semen on their lips and tongues and that John’s cock was still hanging out the front of his trousers though no one could see that due to Sherlock’s still open coat. “That alley is dark.” John nodded over to the streets as they fixed their clothing, “I don’t want to wait for home.”
They walked away from the concert and made their way to the alley in just a few short minutes. John found an old cardboard box on the bins, flattened it and used it to kneel on in front of Sherlock, “You don’t have to, John, not here.”
John didn’t stop. He wanted this so he undid Sherlock’s flies and undid his belt. Sherlock used his coat to shield John on either side but wasn’t very successful at keeping himself quiet. John familiarised himself with Sherlock’s cock, running his lips and tongue over it, getting used to the taste and feel of it before opening his mouth and letting it in. It felt amazing. John understood what his ex-lovers meant when they told him they enjoyed sucking cock. It was a pleasure all on its own to make Sherlock shake and try to cant his hips.
John held him firmly against the alley wall but didn’t try to prolong the experience. Instead, he focused on gently repetitive moves that he knew would get Sherlock off the fastest, indeed, his lover was now gripping the shoulders of John’s coat and saying John’s name over and over again. Suddenly, Sherlock’s hands were on either side of John’s head to still him and Sherlock pulled his cock out of John’s mouth just in time to make the stripes of come he released land over John’s face and mouth. Sherlock hauled John to his feet and licked him clean before kissing him again, seeming to be just as aroused as he had been before he came.
John smiled as he looked witnessed Sherlock’s carnal side for the first time. It was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, “Come on, Sherlock. Time to go home.” John tucked him away. They had a lot of sex to have and music to listen to. Hand in hand, the lovers of Baker Street ran through the night together.