Prompting Part XXXIV

[sherlockbbc_fic]

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MEME LINKS
Pinboard Archive - Delicious Archive - Guide to the Archive
Filled Prompts Posts: Parts 1-23 - Parts 24+ - Spoiler Free
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Love Post - Chatter Post - Searching Post
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Links to previous prompting parts

OTHER LINKS AND AFFILIATES
sherlock_rant: A place to rant about or discuss anything with few to no restrictions.
sherlock_rpf: This is a kinkmeme for RPF about the show.
sherlockcrit: A multi-fandom betaing/concrit community, with a focus on BBC Sherlock.
sherlockbbc: A community dedicated to the BBC adaptation of Sherlock Holmes.
Useful resources for Sherlock and LiveJournal.
Sherlock screencaps.

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Comments

Fill: No Refuge from Memory: 22a/22

[cbzofdeath.livejournal.com]

Part 22: The First Steps of Healing

John could not keep from smiling like a fool as he watched the Cessna taxi across the small airfield. Mycroft stood next to him, leaning on his umbrella, pinching his lips together in an expression of distaste. John didn’t take it personally. He knew that Mycroft was just as relieved as he was that Sherlock was back. Over the past eight months, they’d gotten to know each other better, and while they would never be friends, they would always be allies in the battle to make Sherlock more human.

He’d used the past eight months to process the trauma of his past. On the advice of his therapist, he told Harry almost everything. He was surprised to find that she had already suspected quite a lot that had occurred, and that her own struggles with alcohol were partially fuelled by her guilt at abandoning him. They still had a lot of progress to make before their relationship could be considered healthy, but at least they were honest with each other now.

The loud whine of the jet’s engines filled his ears as it came closer. He forced himself to stop bouncing on his toes with excitement as the aircraft stopped and the crew opened the door and set up the airstairs.

Seconds later, Sherlock launched himself out of the plane and onto the stairs. He was leaner and a few new freckles were sprinkled across his cheekbones. John set off at a rapid walk, barely able to keep from breaking into a run.

He threw his arms around Sherlock, burying his face in his chest and breathing in his smell for a few seconds before tilting his head back just in time to feel Sherlock’s lips crash against his own. He gasped at the heat and the sweet taste that he had missed for so long. Sherlock’s tongue slid into his mouth, slick and hot, licking inside him, tasting him, devouring him.

The sound of a throat clearing brought him back to a reality in which more than one person existed. Mycroft watched them. A forlorn expression flashed across his face, swiftly replaced by his characteristic sour expression. Sherlock gave him a nod in greeting and the three of them stepped into the car.

*

Their long time apart had left Sherlock more fragile and less human than ever. They sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Sherlock’s hands shook slightly as he held the cup of tea John had made for him.

“How have you been?” he asked, his voice clipped.

“I still have a long way to go, but I’m a lot better than I was the last time we were together.”

“Your memories?”

“All present and accounted for, both the good and the bad.”

Sherlock hesitated a moment then asked, “Have you-? What about-?” he waved vaguely between the two of them.

John swallowed. “I still love you. Do you-?” His voice broke on the last syllable and he couldn’t bring himself to continue.

“Yes.”

“We need to go slow and careful, get to know each other again. I was a mess when you left. I don’t know if you’ve ever known me when I wasn’t a mess.”

Sherlock smiled and set down his teacup. “Slow is good. Messy is good.” He reached out and ran his index finger down John’s cheek. “How about we go to my room and get messy and slow together.”

John shivered as heat raced down his spine.

They lay down on their sides, facing each other. John guided Sherlock’s hands on his body, showing him the safe places to touch. He couldn’t remember when they had taken their shirts off, but the feeling of Sherlock’s bare chest against his own drove him wild with desire. He pressed closer, grinding his clothed erection against Sherlock’s hardness. Sherlock moaned into his mouth and John took the opportunity to deepen their kiss.

Sherlock ground desperately against him, ripping his lips away to gasp, “Oh, John,” before he claimed his mouth again. John pulled away and rolled over, scrabbling desperately in the top drawer of Sherlock’s nightstand for the bottle of lube he knew he kept there.

He kissed Sherlock again, slowly, sensually this time. “Touch yourself for me.” he whispered, “I want to watch you come.”

Sherlock shivered and arched against him, “Only if you come with me.”